At the beginning of God’s creating my heart and soul, all those decades ago, Godself came to me after a heartfelt and contrite plea flooded the words of my mouth. Godself wrote a beautiful healing remaking of my very soul, and tumbled me into Christianity eventually, brought me to shore in the Presbyterians knowing I needed ground and stone and reading. The zapping by God’s amazing love was something golden and rich and warm and truthful and trustworthy and vast and mysterious.
I did not have words then like the above or like: God, Jesus, Bible, Kingdom of Heaven, Grace, Confession. My prayers were more like a wish list to Santa, until that moment.
It was then all I needed and more than I ever dared to dream: a rebirth into forgiveness so rich that the whole world was more beautiful. The grass was greener. The daffodils (it was spring) were yellower.
Yet from there to now. From painful losses and deep down dreary endless gray days and circle back up again to the core question: why am I a Christian? Why do I church?
From that beginning, like layers of onion unpeeling yet growing ever richer and outward like some sort of parable, God is still at work in the making of us all. And my trust is still with God, with Jesus, with the Holy Spirit and, sweeter than honey, with the vast complexity of the Word of God. From at first merely (merely!) giving me a shelter from the storm, a rock instead of shifting sand, to very now and right at hand God seeming to pierce my heart or enrich my core, to fill me. Christianity is both contemplative and practical, both fantastical stories and deeply painfully human stories. And laughter! My story has become woven into it. I am Christian now, however good or ill, however poorly or dimly a light I shine. What at first I clung to, now I live into, knowing I am held but not safe.
And yet words are hardly able to sift and sort the complexities and simplicities of the very ground, as personal as toes in dirt, as mysterious as our unknown hearts. God as a plum line. God as a weaving into and knitting together of allness and healing, and still just words, mere flickering shadows.
And thus I church, because it isn’t do-it-yourself. When I am weak, my sisters will be strong, my brothers will make me laugh, someone will need me. Some beauty will shine, or my ever new-made soul will beauty bring into something newly verbed: created, born, crafted, melded, molded, sown, reaped, uplifted, upheld, healed.
When we are, I am. When Jesus asks a question, like “Who do you say that I am?” I try to answer “Yes.” I try to live the answer “Yes”. I try to reach out to the answer with “Yes.”
So….let me know….is this a statement of faith? Do you find anything that relates to you? Did it shine any light? I haven’t been given any “guidelines” about writing my statement of faith yet from my church as a part of becoming a Deacon. So this is just me “winging it”.