My parents were divorced when I was two. My mother was raising us: me, my brother who is two years my senior and my sister, then a new born, alone in Sacramento. She met my step dad when I was six. They were married soon after. We moved to his house in Sonora, California and became a family.
My sister and I took gymnastics lessons over the summer and within two years we became competitive gymnasts. As a young gymnast, I received the most attention and praise when I was outstanding, when I won. When I shined, the audience loved me, the judges loved me, my coach loved me, and my supporters loved me. But when I didn’t, I seemed to have failed everyone. Once I fell off the beam at a championship meet. Afterwards I cried for the rest of the night. I believed my value as a human being was based on my performance.
My life revolved around performing. I had to be the center of attention; even at the expense of others’ feelings. Once in high school I made a joke in class that made everyone laugh except for the one girl it made cry. I became louder and funnier and more obnoxious always seeking validation through the attention of others. My feelings, my sense of belongingness and worth came from my perception of how people perceived me. Whether I made them laugh or made them irritated would determine my state of mind. In my mind everything boiled down to my performance and judgments.
As I got older I could not distinguish between performing and just being myself and I got tired of it. The truth was too glaring, that I wasn’t being who I really am even though I didn’t know who that was. I knew that I was lost. I kept saying things like, “this isn’t me.” To close friends I said, “You don’t even know me.” I began to pray, “God help me. Who am I?”
When I was 24 years old, a “regular” at my work came in on his way into town and he told me that he thought that God was leading him to come in the store. He asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus Christ into my heart and I said, “Yeah!” Although I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, my mother did and so did my grandmothers so Jesus wasn’t an unknown to me. I wanted him. So the gentleman and I made a prayer together and he told me, with tears in his eyes that angels in heaven were rejoicing. That year my mother gave me a bible for Christmas.
I couldn’t get into the bible. I read parts of it but I didn’t get it. I was bored and couldn’t read a lot of the text and wasn’t really paying attention to it. Without a church community to support and teach me I thought I had to interpret the bible and find my own personal meaning in it.
I thought that God was something I could conjure or invent for myself, something far out and spiritual, and something that ordinary people didn’t get. I thought God was far away. So I went looking. I bought a plane ticket to Nepal. Maybe I could find God in a temple high in the Himalaya. I became a vegetarian and tried to meditate on the beaches of Thailand. Often I just fell asleep or daydreamed. In Costa Rica I read the Tao, I Ching, the Gita, Psalms and Proverbs. I’d sit in old churches and cry, my heart aching to be filled with God. I flew to the jungles of Ecuador seeking God’s Spirit in the Amazon. Shamans chanted over me, spit alcohol and rubbed eggs on me as I stood holding a spear and silently prayed to Mary mother of God. I smoked, drank, philosophized, fasted, hiked, danced, sang, shaved my head, chanted, pierced my nose, drummed, burned incense, wrote poetry and ran with tears running down my cheeks crying God, where are you? I feel like I am turning my back on you! Which I was.
Eventually I returned home; back to my parents’-now a Christian Catholic home- in Sonora. I decided to leave the life I was living and go back to school at Columbia Community College in my home town. Every morning I went outside and prayed. I listened to sermons in my car as I drove to school. I felt a sense of peace and comfort as I listened to Pastors Chuck Smith and Jon Courson talk about Jesus. I talked to Christians on campus. I began to long for a Christian life because somehow I knew it was right. When my devoutly Christian friend talked to me about God, I could not muster any form of argument against him. Actually I could not say anything; only listen. I finally gave up trying to think I would ever invent God. I could only listen as someone who actually knew God talked about Him.
Because of my friends who are saved, their prayers over me and their willingness to share with me their relationship with God, I knew in my heart that there is one true God and that my friends knew Him. That was the first defining step in committing my life to being a Christian: I want to know God too.
My brother-in-law recommended I pray for spiritual hunger which I did. God responded to my hunger with this church. I came to Gracepoint hoping to get involved in serious bible study. The first time I came to church, a member of the college ministry staff approached me. As we walked together she asked if I would be interested in college bible study. From then I slowly began to understand the message of the Gospel. Through group bible studies with friends, meetings with my group leader, listening to and talking about our Pastor’s messages, prayer meetings and weekly bible study with our Pastor, relationships with more spiritually mature sisters and family members, and prayers, I have come to recognize and accept the message of the Gospel: That we are all sinners, God gave his Son as a ransom to pay the debts of our sins and now we can have a personal relationship with God. And, if we believe in Jesus Christ we will go to God and live forever with Him in Heaven.
I really started to understand why we need and revere Jesus once I began to see myself truly as a sinner. Until then I didn’t think I was that bad. But as I listen to my thoughts and look at my intolerance and disgust towards people (even myself), I become more aware of my corrupt heart. When I can leave church feeling like a good and happy Christian only to walk up the street and hate the people I saw, when no matter how much I try to forgive someone for hurting me, my heart still cries out against them; when I know what God tells us to do and I don’t do it; I realize that I am a sinner, a debt producing sinner and Jesus died to pay for my sin so that I may know God and live forever in His presence.
I recall a sister’s message about being a sinner one night at college bible study. She read from Romans chapter 7 where Paul says, “We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. . .What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God- through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.” Paul’s words captured my struggle and blares the truth of my nature.
I am in debt to Jesus because of what he did on the cross. When he died so bloody a death, because of God’s mercy for me, I became his servant. The cross is a symbol of mercy and grace. It is the way an undeserving soul can know God. It is totally selfless love. It is sacrifice for the undeserving, all to please the father who created us and loves us. When I think of the cross, I think of wood and Jesus’ blood. I think of torture for me and I can’t bear the magnitude of his honor and obedience to the Father and love for me. He is my savior, my hero. I decided to spend the rest of my life in the practice of being his. I hope for discipline and obedience to his commands.
Jesus is my confidant, my counsel, my friend, my comforter and support. I don’t have to be insecure when I walk with the Lord. He reminds me of what is important, that which lasts forever. Performance has taken on a whole new light for me. I want to perform for Jesus in the ways that please him.
I feel very sad when I have difficulty relating to non-Christian old friends or family members. There seems to be a sense of vacancy and sorrow. The depth of relationship I once believed in has vanished and I am sorry for their investment in autonomy (although I can certainly relate). God is working on my heart of compassion for the lost. I have been able to pray for people instead of ridicule them as I am convinced others have done for me. After all, I was lost and got on a plane to find God when he was with me all the while, loving me and wanting a relationship with me.