Is Christianity Wishful Thinking?
I grew up with Jesus.
Well, let’s put it this way, I was born into a Christian home, raised in a Christian church. I learned to quote scripture and talk to God and sing Jesus Loves Me.
When I was only seven years old, I wanted to make it official, and I asked to become a Christian and became one.
I still cried and yelled at God and loved myself. I went to school and out to eat, and I cared way more about hiding my acne and makeup and boys than reading my Bible.
I went to high school and to college, not much different than anybody else. I wanted to make good grades and stand out. I graduated, and I grew up, and I made mistakes.
And He got my attention.
Who, you may ask.
The story was unfolding in the ordinary, then the extraordinary happened.
It wasn’t a jackpot prize or popularity or promotions. Instead, it was in the brokenness that brought me to my knees to find my worth. And it wasn’t in self-worth; that is such a distraction. It was worth in something so much bigger than me.
In that place where darkness likes to dominate, a light flickered. It was the same that I sang about in childhood and that taught me God was real. It set my world ablaze.
It was in a storm of ignorance and shame that my Jesus calmed waves that crashed and gripped my hand He had held all along.
To feel grace, His grace, is a remarkable thing. It is the embrace of a Holy God no amount of goodness or kindness or act of my own could reach, come down to us.
Now, I read His letters; I sing to Him; I talk and cry and laugh with Him, too.
And if someone asks — is all this wishful thinking, my answer is the only wishful thought I have now is that I wish I would’ve cared more sooner.
You see, I may have thought I cared, really cared when I was younger. In a way, I did — about myself. That was hopeless at best. If I had only realized it sooner.
I could have cried less tears and lived with less fears over the idols I had made. I see them and must contend with them still. A constant struggle between spirit and flesh. To love and enjoy what I’ve been given: my husband, my kids, the work I do, my family, friends, hobbies I have — and not worship them or myself.
This I know — there is nothing more worthy than He who saved me — Jesus.
He came to me, and He held me, and He rescued me from the kind of life I would have made for myself. He still does.
And I cannot explain it away or describe it in a formula you can resolve on paper. I can just say I am free. I am forgiven. I am loved, because I met Jesus.
It is not a wish or make believe or magic.
It is not how I was raised or the easy way, not at all.
It is the only way. He is.
I met Jesus, my friends. I met Jesus, and I want to know Him more.
“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8
Friends, have you met Jesus or have you only heard of Him? Google the Book of John from The Bible, and begin there. There are prophesies of Him throughout the Old Testament and witness accounts throughout the New Testament of The Bible. Message me or comment if you’d like to talk more.