(Hey! I have a question - who is it from Germany who reads my blog? Not that I have anything against that, not really, I'm rather privileged, it's just that the link is only known by a VERY limited number of people from the US and it's kind of unlikely you just accidently came across me somewhere on the web. :) Once again, no worries, I'm just really curious who that might be and if we actually know each other)
Anyway... today, as I was trying to clean a huge mess of my old school notebooks and binders, I came across a journal I used to keep way back. Well, I suppose you can't call that a journal... It's more like a notebook with like 5 entires that were made far in between each other, but that's not the point. I usually don't like dwelling on the past by reading stuff like that, but this time something caught my attention, and for a good reason.
Those were the very first things about God I ever wrote. I was raised very agnostic (or probably God-hating if you will) but I always wondered if there was something more than the life we see - school, then college, then work, your own family, then at some point, death. I wondered if there was anything more than meets the eye. I couldn't understand why all the worry, if we would end up buried in the end.. Okay, that is probably going into too much detail, but you get the point. I was... wondering.
At some point, I stopped doubting there was something Greater than I am. I remember having dreams of God at night but it was difficult to believe in a loving God... because at some point, I stopped believing in love.
I remember how some guy preached the Gospel to me when I was about 8 or 9. It would be fun to find out who it was, because it was most likely somebody from the church I now attend. I remember reading the sinner's prayer for the first time, without much understanding, just clinging to the simple words that God loves me. This phrase, especially mixed with that stranger's words that God was my Father, were nothing short of astounding to my love-starved child soul.
I remember taking the New Testament home, the little blue book that my church is piled with. I remember trying to read it and giving up on 'that stuff' because words made no sense to me, until I was born again. My mom threw the book away holding it at arm's length a few years ago (you get the picture of how love-starved she is. But I am happy to report, things are shifting!!).
From that point on, however, somewhere deep inside I knew there was God. I had no idea who He is and all the more how to even approach Him, but I knew He was there. At times I would hear something like whispers in the quiet, saying 'I love you! I love you!' but you have no idea how easily I shrugged them off, thinking I was crazy (years after that, when I was already a Christ follower, I got the confirmation that I indeed am crazy, but that's okay I guess :) ). More importantly, I knew there WAS God.
Even when I shouted in one of my fits of rage that he hated me.
Even when I thought about, or attempted, suicide or when I was self harming.
Even when I was hating and cursing people left and right, and got the same in return. I knew there was God.
The reason why I am even typing all this is that so often, I completely forget how hard I struggled. How long it took me to actually resond to my Savior's voice that was dripping with love. When I slowly started to respond, it felt like something inside me was melting. Such a... weird feeling. Like there was a huge pile of frozen wax on the inside of me that was starting to melt after being exposed to the ultimate source of light and warmth - Jesus and His ever-loving heart.
Of course I had (and still do) my weaker moments, even after I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But he has set me free from so much. It's true that he who has been forgiven much, loves much.
The words in that old journal of mine that really caught my attention were 'I don't even feel like a human being. I feel like a huge bleeding mess on the inside. I am compelled to live a life of duplicity - I appear normal on the outside, but on the inside there is just nothing but brokenness. Everything is broken. I can't control myself. I scream and scream things I don't believe, things I don't want to believe... will there ever be any way out of this?'
There was.
(This is what it's like to be demon-possessed, just in case you ever wondered.)
I remember how precious every thought about God once became to me, I remember how I prayed for hours on end every night, as quiet as I could, because my mom thought it was nonsense. I remember skipping geometry (and a couple other classes too, I admit) in order to go to church and just be in His presence, crying tears of sudden and unknown happiness and then letting him dry those tears with gladness unspoken.
I am sure God wanted me to see this for a reason. It is so easy to get caught up in the moment and just go on because you 'have to'. Our prayers become mechanical so often. It's so good to just go back to the past sometimes and remember that very first, purest love. We as Christians often pray for the 'revival' to come, but too often we fail to realize that it doesn't take a crusade to start one. It starts with you. When your soul, your heart, your mind and your strength are REVIVED to love the Lord your God!
These are two songs that mean the world to me (the first one even gave the name to my blog). These describe and express what God has done and is still doing in my life so well. I can never be not in tears while listening to them. It's such a joy to just worship my Maker with all I've got, holding nothing back!
And actually, I didn't mean for this to turn into a whole testimony... ha ha. I just wanted to say how much I long to return to that first love. :)
You can't even imagine how much of a JOY that is to shout out Jesus' name, completely blasted by the Holy Spirit, instead of shouting how much he 'hates' me!!!
Anyway... today, as I was trying to clean a huge mess of my old school notebooks and binders, I came across a journal I used to keep way back. Well, I suppose you can't call that a journal... It's more like a notebook with like 5 entires that were made far in between each other, but that's not the point. I usually don't like dwelling on the past by reading stuff like that, but this time something caught my attention, and for a good reason.
Those were the very first things about God I ever wrote. I was raised very agnostic (or probably God-hating if you will) but I always wondered if there was something more than the life we see - school, then college, then work, your own family, then at some point, death. I wondered if there was anything more than meets the eye. I couldn't understand why all the worry, if we would end up buried in the end.. Okay, that is probably going into too much detail, but you get the point. I was... wondering.
At some point, I stopped doubting there was something Greater than I am. I remember having dreams of God at night but it was difficult to believe in a loving God... because at some point, I stopped believing in love.
I remember how some guy preached the Gospel to me when I was about 8 or 9. It would be fun to find out who it was, because it was most likely somebody from the church I now attend. I remember reading the sinner's prayer for the first time, without much understanding, just clinging to the simple words that God loves me. This phrase, especially mixed with that stranger's words that God was my Father, were nothing short of astounding to my love-starved child soul.
I remember taking the New Testament home, the little blue book that my church is piled with. I remember trying to read it and giving up on 'that stuff' because words made no sense to me, until I was born again. My mom threw the book away holding it at arm's length a few years ago (you get the picture of how love-starved she is. But I am happy to report, things are shifting!!).
From that point on, however, somewhere deep inside I knew there was God. I had no idea who He is and all the more how to even approach Him, but I knew He was there. At times I would hear something like whispers in the quiet, saying 'I love you! I love you!' but you have no idea how easily I shrugged them off, thinking I was crazy (years after that, when I was already a Christ follower, I got the confirmation that I indeed am crazy, but that's okay I guess :) ). More importantly, I knew there WAS God.
Even when I shouted in one of my fits of rage that he hated me.
Even when I thought about, or attempted, suicide or when I was self harming.
Even when I was hating and cursing people left and right, and got the same in return. I knew there was God.
The reason why I am even typing all this is that so often, I completely forget how hard I struggled. How long it took me to actually resond to my Savior's voice that was dripping with love. When I slowly started to respond, it felt like something inside me was melting. Such a... weird feeling. Like there was a huge pile of frozen wax on the inside of me that was starting to melt after being exposed to the ultimate source of light and warmth - Jesus and His ever-loving heart.
Of course I had (and still do) my weaker moments, even after I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But he has set me free from so much. It's true that he who has been forgiven much, loves much.
The words in that old journal of mine that really caught my attention were 'I don't even feel like a human being. I feel like a huge bleeding mess on the inside. I am compelled to live a life of duplicity - I appear normal on the outside, but on the inside there is just nothing but brokenness. Everything is broken. I can't control myself. I scream and scream things I don't believe, things I don't want to believe... will there ever be any way out of this?'
There was.
(This is what it's like to be demon-possessed, just in case you ever wondered.)
I remember how precious every thought about God once became to me, I remember how I prayed for hours on end every night, as quiet as I could, because my mom thought it was nonsense. I remember skipping geometry (and a couple other classes too, I admit) in order to go to church and just be in His presence, crying tears of sudden and unknown happiness and then letting him dry those tears with gladness unspoken.
I am sure God wanted me to see this for a reason. It is so easy to get caught up in the moment and just go on because you 'have to'. Our prayers become mechanical so often. It's so good to just go back to the past sometimes and remember that very first, purest love. We as Christians often pray for the 'revival' to come, but too often we fail to realize that it doesn't take a crusade to start one. It starts with you. When your soul, your heart, your mind and your strength are REVIVED to love the Lord your God!
These are two songs that mean the world to me (the first one even gave the name to my blog). These describe and express what God has done and is still doing in my life so well. I can never be not in tears while listening to them. It's such a joy to just worship my Maker with all I've got, holding nothing back!
You can't even imagine how much of a JOY that is to shout out Jesus' name, completely blasted by the Holy Spirit, instead of shouting how much he 'hates' me!!!
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