I was 10 years old. Like every good girl at VBS, I got
“saved”. My
dad said he was proud and everyone took pictures when I was baptized.
dad said he was proud and everyone took pictures when I was baptized.
I was 21 years old. I was so sick of partying, or so I
thought. I
heard the gospel for the very first time. The true gospel. The
you-are-dead-but-Jesus-can- change-that gospel. I started studying
scripture. I became a bit of a mini-theologian. I spent many hours
debating the “L” in TULIP. I shared this gospel. I helped others
grow in their relationship with the Lord. I was baptized in the Coosa
River. The knowledge I gained during this time was absolutely not wasted. But I chose to serve the false god of drugs and alcohol instead of the True and Living God.
heard the gospel for the very first time. The true gospel. The
you-are-dead-but-Jesus-can-
scripture. I became a bit of a mini-theologian. I spent many hours
debating the “L” in TULIP. I shared this gospel. I helped others
grow in their relationship with the Lord. I was baptized in the Coosa
River. The knowledge I gained during this time was absolutely not wasted. But I chose to serve the false god of drugs and alcohol instead of the True and Living God.
I was 31 years old. The concerned looks on the faces of some of my best friends are forever sketched in my mind. They were tired of the lies. They were sick of being manipulated and stolen from. Their hearts ached at the thought of me killing myself.
But most of all, they hated seeing me break
the heart of God.
My pastor said they would do whatever it took to get me the help I
needed. Finally, I was exposed. Finally, I could get the help I
needed. Finally, I could take off the unbelievably thick mask. I
could quit juggling all of the acts required of me to keep this
circus of a thing called life going. Finally—a way out of the cycle of defeat that narcotics and vodka had left me in.
Finally I could surrender.
My pastor said they would do whatever it took to get me the help I
needed. Finally, I was exposed. Finally, I could get the help I
needed. Finally, I could take off the unbelievably thick mask. I
could quit juggling all of the acts required of me to keep this
circus of a thing called life going. Finally—a way out of the cycle of defeat that narcotics and vodka had left me in.
Finally I could surrender.
Finally I could be obedient.
And that is the difference.
"My eyes finally see you..."
I tried to think of a
cool blog name that had to do with grace and second
chances. But this kept coming to my mind. It is my heart's
song.
I sort of pulled it from two different verses.
"
I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you..." -Job 42:5
"And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of
affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall
see your Teacher'. - Isaiah 30:20
I had to
add in "finally". Because in all of my searching, I was
restless. I knew there was something more than what I was
experiencing. I had prayed that all of the head knowledge would one day transfer to my heart. I knew a whole lot about God, and I also knew that I was made for more. So when God brought me to my white flag moment, it was
a relief. Finally. Finally, I could stand before God....in all of the
mess that I created. Because He had sought me out, and I was finally free. Finally I could stop running. I could rest in his arms,
because believe me, I was exhausted.
And for the first time in my life, I
knew and believed with all of my heart that He loved me. The unlovable girl that I have always believed that I
am finally let herself be loved. And I knew He had been pursuing me for
"such a time as this". All of those "twists" and "turns" that my life had taken now had a purpose. He never gave up. I was dead, but by His grace, I now can live. He opened my spiritual eyes to see Him.
He is so faithful!
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