July 8, 2018
Sunday, 8 July, 2018, a day and a half after “proving” my toughness against church found me getting ready for Sunday morning service. Even as I dressed, my mind was screaming at me, “What are you doing?! You beat God on Friday, why are you going back?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” I had no answer, but two nights of no sleep with portions of worship music playing throughout my head had pushed me to the point of trying church once more. I’m no stranger to insomnia or night terrors, but I had no defense against hearing music that made me want to cry and lay my heart open. I was a little concerned I might be going crazy again.
To be fair, I’ve been crazy before, like legitimately nuts; but this was worse because I knew it wasn’t imaginary, it was totally real. I remembered enough about God from my upbringing and I knew He was moving. I hoped that by going again, maybe a little more respectfully but still in defiance, He would be convinced of the futility of pulling on me. Remember, I thought I had committed the unpardonable sin; so I thought that even if I wanted to get “saved” again, I wouldn’t be able to. In my mind, God was just being extra cruel. But I was eager to get rid of the music and longing feelings that had kept me up the last two nights, so I thought maybe one more service would make it stop. I left the very next day, so I also thought it would be something nice for my parents right before I left. Cue the angry t-shirts (they were really all I had), tattoos, and snarky attitude; I was bound and determined to win against God!
The church entry was just as terrifying as before, that feeling of a Presence more powerful and loving than anything I had ever known was just as strong as Friday night. But this time I wasn’t going to thumb my nose at God; instead I was going to ask Him to leave me alone just as He had been doing for the last 18 years. He couldn’t just walk uninvited back into my life! People were just as genuinely friendly like before; in fact they seemed ecstatic that I was back again. It didn’t matter my attitude, don’t-touch-me approach, or that I didn’t remember anyone’s name, they just repeated it, laughed, and did simple handshakes. I could not win with them! It was so frustrating that I wanted to just tell them I wouldn’t buy what they were selling, but I knew they weren’t selling anything; they were genuine God followers. And that enraged me more than if they had been fakers; I was forever tainted and could never be one of them.
Praise and worship started and again, while everyone joyfully entered into worship, I stood stone-statue still. I refused to even look at the words this time because that’s how they got stuck in my head the first time. I was doing good, too, until the band started playing, “What A Beautiful Name It Is.” I had never heard it and I wouldn’t look at the words; but my breath caught at the part, “You didn’t want Heaven without us, so Jesus, You brought Heaven down. My sin was great, Your love was greater, what could separate us now?” It was like every desire of my soul was wrapped up in that verse. I knew at that moment that I wouldn’t be forgetting that song anytime soon. Immediately that verse began a loop in my brain that didn’t stop for months.
I had heard Frank Seamster preach on Friday and I vaguely remembered Pastor Steve and Kathy preaching years ago so I thought I was fully prepared for the sermon. I was wrong. Nine minutes into the sermon Pastor Steve said, “You may have been the black sheep of the family or the worst kid in the family but that didn’t mean you weren’t in the family.” His words cut into me like the knife I had in my pocket. How could he know that’s what I called myself? Had someone told him that I would be there, me, the evil black sheep? “Relax Heather, remember you’re not that important,” I mentally chanted over and over to keep my rising paranoia down. But his words had an effect that I never believed would be possible again, in that split second I wanted God. The yearning that I had choked back for so long came rising up to the surface; I wanted to experience God again but I was terrified that I had made an irreversible decision long ago. I was still too scared of what God would want me to change if He would even accept me. I didn’t go get prayer that Sunday but my journey had undoubtedly begun.
The next day I flew back to Phoenix and later that night as I was laying in bed, hearing Pastor Steve and that song verse over and over, I knew that I was ready, well, desperate is a better word, enough to see if God wanted me still. In that second, Phoenix was no longer my home. I began figuring out how to get back to Kansas City. I still didn’t know if God was willing to accept me, but I knew I had to find out. I had reached the place where if God was as powerful as He seemed then I needed to serve Him even if I could never fully be “saved;” and if He wasn’t, then there was literally nothing left for me to live for. It was literally Jesus or bust. It wasn’t until August that I had a chance to return to Kansas City, but in the meantime I devoured sermons on YouTube, streaming, anywhere I could get them. I just soaked up any Jesus I could get a hold of. Roughly two months after my going to church to “prove” my defiance I was moving up here to live permanently. This first year has been simply incredible and I can’t wait to see the amazing things God has in store for the next!
To be fair, I’ve been crazy before, like legitimately nuts; but this was worse because I knew it wasn’t imaginary, it was totally real. I remembered enough about God from my upbringing and I knew He was moving. I hoped that by going again, maybe a little more respectfully but still in defiance, He would be convinced of the futility of pulling on me. Remember, I thought I had committed the unpardonable sin; so I thought that even if I wanted to get “saved” again, I wouldn’t be able to. In my mind, God was just being extra cruel. But I was eager to get rid of the music and longing feelings that had kept me up the last two nights, so I thought maybe one more service would make it stop. I left the very next day, so I also thought it would be something nice for my parents right before I left. Cue the angry t-shirts (they were really all I had), tattoos, and snarky attitude; I was bound and determined to win against God!
The church entry was just as terrifying as before, that feeling of a Presence more powerful and loving than anything I had ever known was just as strong as Friday night. But this time I wasn’t going to thumb my nose at God; instead I was going to ask Him to leave me alone just as He had been doing for the last 18 years. He couldn’t just walk uninvited back into my life! People were just as genuinely friendly like before; in fact they seemed ecstatic that I was back again. It didn’t matter my attitude, don’t-touch-me approach, or that I didn’t remember anyone’s name, they just repeated it, laughed, and did simple handshakes. I could not win with them! It was so frustrating that I wanted to just tell them I wouldn’t buy what they were selling, but I knew they weren’t selling anything; they were genuine God followers. And that enraged me more than if they had been fakers; I was forever tainted and could never be one of them.
Praise and worship started and again, while everyone joyfully entered into worship, I stood stone-statue still. I refused to even look at the words this time because that’s how they got stuck in my head the first time. I was doing good, too, until the band started playing, “What A Beautiful Name It Is.” I had never heard it and I wouldn’t look at the words; but my breath caught at the part, “You didn’t want Heaven without us, so Jesus, You brought Heaven down. My sin was great, Your love was greater, what could separate us now?” It was like every desire of my soul was wrapped up in that verse. I knew at that moment that I wouldn’t be forgetting that song anytime soon. Immediately that verse began a loop in my brain that didn’t stop for months.
The next day I flew back to Phoenix and later that night as I was laying in bed, hearing Pastor Steve and that song verse over and over, I knew that I was ready, well, desperate is a better word, enough to see if God wanted me still. In that second, Phoenix was no longer my home. I began figuring out how to get back to Kansas City. I still didn’t know if God was willing to accept me, but I knew I had to find out. I had reached the place where if God was as powerful as He seemed then I needed to serve Him even if I could never fully be “saved;” and if He wasn’t, then there was literally nothing left for me to live for. It was literally Jesus or bust. It wasn’t until August that I had a chance to return to Kansas City, but in the meantime I devoured sermons on YouTube, streaming, anywhere I could get them. I just soaked up any Jesus I could get a hold of. Roughly two months after my going to church to “prove” my defiance I was moving up here to live permanently. This first year has been simply incredible and I can’t wait to see the amazing things God has in store for the next!
I like to say my defiance brought me to church, my pride kept me there, and my brokenness grabbed ahold of Jesus.
Comments
Post a Comment