I have been thinking about writing this for a while now, and that idea was compelled forward by a post I read this morning.
Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you and worked for those who take refuge in you, in the sight of the children of mankind! Psalm 31:19
My life, like Steven's (in the link above) is a story of God's goodness. It's also a story of God's individual care, for my story doesn't look exactly like his. It shows God's guidance, but in a unique and different way than his story. Each of our stories does the same.
Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you and worked for those who take refuge in you, in the sight of the children of mankind! Psalm 31:19
My life, like Steven's (in the link above) is a story of God's goodness. It's also a story of God's individual care, for my story doesn't look exactly like his. It shows God's guidance, but in a unique and different way than his story. Each of our stories does the same.
So, here's my story of God's goodness... the God who called me out before my birth... the One that is by His grace and mercy, receiving glory for my life of learning to depend on Him.
(*warning - lengthy post to follow - its hard to encapsulate 26 years into a few paragraphs!*)
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I was born in Pennsylvania. My family background is both German and Italian. With that in mind, I should probably have been born into a Roman Catholic family. Instead, by God's mercy, I was born into a family that told me of Jesus at a young age. I grew up with parents that were concerned that I be cared for, so they sacrificed to put my sister and I through Christian school. When none was available, they homeschooled us. They worked hard to do what they thought was best for us. I however, found myself conforming to the ways of my parents instead of accepting it as my own. I always questioned how I could know this faith was real and not merely a by-product of my culture.
Because of my family heritage (and because my family moved a lot when I was young), I was always interested in other cultures and languages. In high school, I began learning German. My family was very passionate about reaching other cultures, so for 2 years, we had foregin exchange students from Germany live with us (though my sister and I tried so hard, we were never able to convince my parents to get the cute guy from Russia. *sigh*)
In college, I lived with one of our exchange student's family for a summer. The questions I had always had in the back of my mind (how can I know this is real? does religion simply depend on where you grow up? are there really absolute truths? it's possible to be convinced but to be wrong, so how can I know my convictions aren't wrong? etc.)... these and more questions welled up for years, yet I never found a satisfying answer. For me, "just have faith" was not sufficient. My heart was longing for answers that could not be found. Throughout high school and college, I began to believe that there was not absolute truth - that each individual simply needed to do what they believed was best and that as long as you were genuine, you were okay. I believed that you could not know for sure and therefore it didn't matter. God didn't matter. How I lived my life didn't matter.
I could not have been further from the truth.
Outwardly my life reflected the good "Christian" I was thought to be. Inwardly, I knew that was not the case. Conforming was easier. And since I was in a Christian culture, I conformed. During this time, I came to know people who (like me) were sinners. But the background I grew up in was not a culture of confessing sin to God and relying on other's support for help - it was a background of hiding your sin and legalistically pretending that all was okay. As long as you looked good on the outside, no one asked questions. Everyone seemed more concerned with others thinking you were perfect than dealing with the root of the problems.
I began to believe that I deserved more and that I was the victim. I expected people to meet my expectations. I looked at wrongs done to me as greater than my sin that killed Christ. I thought no one understood me. No one cared for my soul, they were more concerned with my actions. And I was tired of playing the game. I had played the game for 23 years and was sick of it.
I was done. Game over.
Three days before college graduation, I was expelled from school. For me, that was the final straw. There seemed to be no point conforming anymore. To me, all this "game" was was "put on a good show and no one knows the real you." And no one cared to see the dirt and grime. But I wanted someone to know me. I wanted for someone to love me for who I was, not for who I appeared to be.
In my desperate lonliness, I then conformed to a different culture - the world's. I sought satisfaction in everything I desired. There was nothing "off limits" for me at that point. I did what I wanted, I bought what I wanted, I served only myself and convinced myself that this was the best I could ever hope for. At this point in my life, there was no difference in who I was from the previous years, simply a difference in what I did. I did not believe there was any eternal happiness possible. Life was hard, the best I could do is simply cope and then I'd die. A life of miserable "coping" is not a life worth living. That was my assumption.
At that point, a friend of mine introduced me to a Christian counselor named Rick Thomas. I was not thrilled to be talking to him. I had my idea of who he was and what he would say. He turned out to be very different than that assumption. After some time of building a friendship with Rick and his wife Lucia, they told me of a place where people cared about you, weren't judgmental of who you are, and truly loved you for who you are not simply how you appear. I remember telling Rick "I don't believe that exists, but if it did, that would be the best place ever."
I was convinced to prove him wrong.
I had told Rick I would come on August 3rd, 2003 to the first public meeting of Grace Covenant Church (now Sovereign Grace Church), but I was too hungover to be out of bed by 10 AM. When Rick called to see where I was, I told him the truth, thinking he would be shocked and leave me alone. He didn't. He invited me to come the following Sunday. On August 10th, 2003, I came simply to prove to him that what he thought of this church was wrong (and to get him off my back). That Sunday, the pastor and his wife invited me to come to their house the following Sunday for lunch. Free food? Sure, I'd sit through 2 hours of anything for a free homecooked meal. So, I came back. I ended up at their house from noon until 10PM that night talking to (and mocking) them for what they believed. But they were patient and loving each step of the way.
That was unexpected and made me question why.
Fast forward... I came and left the church countless times over the next 6 months. One morning, I met Jim (our senior pastor) and Rick (counselor/pastor) for breakfast at Jack in the Box. I remember Jim asked me if I was a Christian. I said yes. He asked why I believed that. I told him because I knew that Jesus was God's Son and that He died on the cross to save sins. I will never forget what Jim said to me next. He said. "Emily, Satan believes that too. Tell me, why is he condemned to hell for all eternity and you expect any different. What makes you different from him?" I had no answer. For the first time in my life, I was scared about that.
Fast forward again... I came and left again countless times over the next 6 months. I would show up at church dressed immodestly, hungover or high and mocking so many of those that were there to worship God. But despite my antagonism, these people loved me and cared. They were different. I couldn't explain it. God used that love to show me the meaning of the phrase "the kindness of God leads to repentence." One Saturday, again, Jim, Rick and I met for breakfast - this time at Cracker Barrel. I remember Jim sitting across from me with tears in his eyes, pleading for me to change. Pleading for me to repent. A man I had only known for a few short months, was broken over my lack of brokenness. He cried, pleading with me to repent.
He cried tears of love and it cut to my core.
God used the kindness of my church family to lead me to my Savior. He used free homecooked meals, little notes and cards, countless tear-filled prayers, trips to amusement parks (another long story) and so much more to show me His love. I didn't earn the love I was shown. I tried to push it away. Yet they pursued. God Himself pursued me. As I was running away, He came running after me. He came after His little loss sheep. It was unexpected, unwanted, and supremely kind.
About 2 1/2 years ago, God drew my hard soul to Him. He broke the walls down and showed me true hope - it happened after a trip to Carowinds (an amusement park in Charlotte, NC). That trip could be a separate post, and maybe one day will be, but to summarize, what I saw that day was a group of eight 20 somethings who were serving each other, loving each other and prayed for God to be glorified in all they did that day. My thought was "that's stupid. God's not at an amusement park, He's in church."
That day, He proved me wrong.
This thing called the "gospel" affected how those seven people lived that day. As Jess prayed for God to be glorified, something in my heart told me to simply watch. See if what they believe matched how they lived that day. So, I watched what I now know as the gospel, played out in human form that day. The Cross of Christ had changed their hearts, and was producing beautiful fruit. This truth I had been hearing about, didn't just affect the pastors, it changed how those people spent a day at an amusement park - those people I referred to as "stupid 5th graders" showed me true maturity that day. I had no explanation. They were serving. They were unselfish. They were loving.
It was different and SO appealing. The hope they had - I longed for that.
God's kindness, as displayed that day through my friends, blew me away. It had changed them and that could not be denied.
Through God's grace, new life was breathed into my dead soul. I am undeserving of that grace. God's kindess led my sinful soul to repentence of my infinite sins and to a trusting faith in Jesus as my only Hope. Not a "coping" anymore - this truth became a new reality. This was a new life. It was beautiful. The awful cross became to me a place of sheer beauty. Though I wanted to look away in shame, He drew me closer, ever reminding me that my shame was paid for completely in full on that bloody cross. There is NO PART of my sin that was not exponged that day.
I am truly undeserving of such grace. All praise to my God, for He is infinitely worthy!
Because of my family heritage (and because my family moved a lot when I was young), I was always interested in other cultures and languages. In high school, I began learning German. My family was very passionate about reaching other cultures, so for 2 years, we had foregin exchange students from Germany live with us (though my sister and I tried so hard, we were never able to convince my parents to get the cute guy from Russia. *sigh*)
In college, I lived with one of our exchange student's family for a summer. The questions I had always had in the back of my mind (how can I know this is real? does religion simply depend on where you grow up? are there really absolute truths? it's possible to be convinced but to be wrong, so how can I know my convictions aren't wrong? etc.)... these and more questions welled up for years, yet I never found a satisfying answer. For me, "just have faith" was not sufficient. My heart was longing for answers that could not be found. Throughout high school and college, I began to believe that there was not absolute truth - that each individual simply needed to do what they believed was best and that as long as you were genuine, you were okay. I believed that you could not know for sure and therefore it didn't matter. God didn't matter. How I lived my life didn't matter.
I could not have been further from the truth.
Outwardly my life reflected the good "Christian" I was thought to be. Inwardly, I knew that was not the case. Conforming was easier. And since I was in a Christian culture, I conformed. During this time, I came to know people who (like me) were sinners. But the background I grew up in was not a culture of confessing sin to God and relying on other's support for help - it was a background of hiding your sin and legalistically pretending that all was okay. As long as you looked good on the outside, no one asked questions. Everyone seemed more concerned with others thinking you were perfect than dealing with the root of the problems.
I began to believe that I deserved more and that I was the victim. I expected people to meet my expectations. I looked at wrongs done to me as greater than my sin that killed Christ. I thought no one understood me. No one cared for my soul, they were more concerned with my actions. And I was tired of playing the game. I had played the game for 23 years and was sick of it.
I was done. Game over.
Three days before college graduation, I was expelled from school. For me, that was the final straw. There seemed to be no point conforming anymore. To me, all this "game" was was "put on a good show and no one knows the real you." And no one cared to see the dirt and grime. But I wanted someone to know me. I wanted for someone to love me for who I was, not for who I appeared to be.
In my desperate lonliness, I then conformed to a different culture - the world's. I sought satisfaction in everything I desired. There was nothing "off limits" for me at that point. I did what I wanted, I bought what I wanted, I served only myself and convinced myself that this was the best I could ever hope for. At this point in my life, there was no difference in who I was from the previous years, simply a difference in what I did. I did not believe there was any eternal happiness possible. Life was hard, the best I could do is simply cope and then I'd die. A life of miserable "coping" is not a life worth living. That was my assumption.
At that point, a friend of mine introduced me to a Christian counselor named Rick Thomas. I was not thrilled to be talking to him. I had my idea of who he was and what he would say. He turned out to be very different than that assumption. After some time of building a friendship with Rick and his wife Lucia, they told me of a place where people cared about you, weren't judgmental of who you are, and truly loved you for who you are not simply how you appear. I remember telling Rick "I don't believe that exists, but if it did, that would be the best place ever."
I was convinced to prove him wrong.
I had told Rick I would come on August 3rd, 2003 to the first public meeting of Grace Covenant Church (now Sovereign Grace Church), but I was too hungover to be out of bed by 10 AM. When Rick called to see where I was, I told him the truth, thinking he would be shocked and leave me alone. He didn't. He invited me to come the following Sunday. On August 10th, 2003, I came simply to prove to him that what he thought of this church was wrong (and to get him off my back). That Sunday, the pastor and his wife invited me to come to their house the following Sunday for lunch. Free food? Sure, I'd sit through 2 hours of anything for a free homecooked meal. So, I came back. I ended up at their house from noon until 10PM that night talking to (and mocking) them for what they believed. But they were patient and loving each step of the way.
That was unexpected and made me question why.
Fast forward... I came and left the church countless times over the next 6 months. One morning, I met Jim (our senior pastor) and Rick (counselor/pastor) for breakfast at Jack in the Box. I remember Jim asked me if I was a Christian. I said yes. He asked why I believed that. I told him because I knew that Jesus was God's Son and that He died on the cross to save sins. I will never forget what Jim said to me next. He said. "Emily, Satan believes that too. Tell me, why is he condemned to hell for all eternity and you expect any different. What makes you different from him?" I had no answer. For the first time in my life, I was scared about that.
Fast forward again... I came and left again countless times over the next 6 months. I would show up at church dressed immodestly, hungover or high and mocking so many of those that were there to worship God. But despite my antagonism, these people loved me and cared. They were different. I couldn't explain it. God used that love to show me the meaning of the phrase "the kindness of God leads to repentence." One Saturday, again, Jim, Rick and I met for breakfast - this time at Cracker Barrel. I remember Jim sitting across from me with tears in his eyes, pleading for me to change. Pleading for me to repent. A man I had only known for a few short months, was broken over my lack of brokenness. He cried, pleading with me to repent.
He cried tears of love and it cut to my core.
God used the kindness of my church family to lead me to my Savior. He used free homecooked meals, little notes and cards, countless tear-filled prayers, trips to amusement parks (another long story) and so much more to show me His love. I didn't earn the love I was shown. I tried to push it away. Yet they pursued. God Himself pursued me. As I was running away, He came running after me. He came after His little loss sheep. It was unexpected, unwanted, and supremely kind.
About 2 1/2 years ago, God drew my hard soul to Him. He broke the walls down and showed me true hope - it happened after a trip to Carowinds (an amusement park in Charlotte, NC). That trip could be a separate post, and maybe one day will be, but to summarize, what I saw that day was a group of eight 20 somethings who were serving each other, loving each other and prayed for God to be glorified in all they did that day. My thought was "that's stupid. God's not at an amusement park, He's in church."
That day, He proved me wrong.
This thing called the "gospel" affected how those seven people lived that day. As Jess prayed for God to be glorified, something in my heart told me to simply watch. See if what they believe matched how they lived that day. So, I watched what I now know as the gospel, played out in human form that day. The Cross of Christ had changed their hearts, and was producing beautiful fruit. This truth I had been hearing about, didn't just affect the pastors, it changed how those people spent a day at an amusement park - those people I referred to as "stupid 5th graders" showed me true maturity that day. I had no explanation. They were serving. They were unselfish. They were loving.
It was different and SO appealing. The hope they had - I longed for that.
God's kindness, as displayed that day through my friends, blew me away. It had changed them and that could not be denied.
Through God's grace, new life was breathed into my dead soul. I am undeserving of that grace. God's kindess led my sinful soul to repentence of my infinite sins and to a trusting faith in Jesus as my only Hope. Not a "coping" anymore - this truth became a new reality. This was a new life. It was beautiful. The awful cross became to me a place of sheer beauty. Though I wanted to look away in shame, He drew me closer, ever reminding me that my shame was paid for completely in full on that bloody cross. There is NO PART of my sin that was not exponged that day.
I am truly undeserving of such grace. All praise to my God, for He is infinitely worthy!
That's my story. Its just beginning. I can't wait to see how it ends. I can't wait to meet my Jesus, walk hand in hand with Him and see His face. I was created for Him. He drew me to Him. He upholds me now through trials. He is beautiful to me.
I'm looking forward to the next step of this journey on May 18th. God is truly good. I'm eternally grateful.
The story He has written for me is amazing and humbling. It is only by God's mercy I am where I am today. His grace is beautiful.