starting to figure out who I was. Who I am. Let's start with where my story first collided with His.
I
was eight years old. That's when I officially remember choosing to
have a relationship with Jesus. Now I'm not one of those people who
can remember the exact date, time and place where I turned my life
over to Him. Instead, for as long as I can remember, it seems like I
knew He was there, and I never doubted it. But eight was the turning
point -- when I went from knowing He was there to realizing that I
needed him. Desperately.
It's
only looking back now that I realize what a selfish decision it was
to start our friendship. I'd moved around year after year, being
uprooted from people and places, and I wanted a friend. A friend I
could count on. I was sick of being the new kid, either constantly
trying to fit in or else forced to elbow my way into already existing
friend groups where I wasn't wanted. Yes, I wanted a friend.
Painfully.
I'll
never forget first grade when my teacher, Miss Smith, designed a
class activity for us to become blood brothers. She gave us each a
small piece of red construction paper and instructed us to tie it
around our wrist. Then she told us to pick one classmate with whom we
wanted to become blood brothers by rubbing our red papers together in
front of the class.
Now,
I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what kind of activity
this is for a first grader, right? And I wholeheartedly agree with
you, but at the time, I was six. What did I know? It sounded like
fun, and I couldn't wait to start. Miss Smith gave the go ahead and
soon her room was abuzz with first graders running across the room to
lock elbows with their future blood sibling in anticipation of the
big ritual.
I
made a beeline for Amy; but I was too late. Jennifer had beat me. I
took a step back and anxiously surveyed the classroom only to
discover that I was the only kid without a partner. I stood there
looking at all of my classmates smiling contentedly in their little
pairs, each one oblivious to my situation, and I felt like the
biggest failure in the world. I was looking for someone to take me
in, anyone, but there was no one left. It was a crushing blow to
my child psyche. I know this to
be true because other than being chased around the playground by my
male classmates and taking a Rorschach test, it's the only memory I
have of first grade.
Sensing
my desperation at that moment, Miss Smith convinced Amy that it was
acceptable to have three people in her group. With forced smiles, she
and Jessica took me in. But I knew the truth. I was second best.
When
I rubbed my red paper with Amy's, I didn't experience the same twinge
of satisfaction that the other kids did. Instead, I felt a deep
loneliness. I was the blood sister that nobody wanted. But even that
blood friendship didn't last long. By second grade I was on my way to
another school, and then another, to do it all over again.
So
at eight years old (after having made my fourth move in three years),
when I kept hearing that Jesus was a forever friend who'd always be
with me, never leave me or forsake me, and would love me just the way
I was, well, it seemed like a no-brainer. Who wouldn't want that?
Just say a little prayer, and he'd come into my heart and the
friendship would start instantaneously. What wasn't to like?
And
so while I'm pretty sure that my eight year old brain believed all
the other stuff about Jesus –- that he was the Son of God, had died
on the cross for my sins, and had risen again to be my Savior -- it
was the fact that I'd have a forever friend that really sold me on
him. He was the forever friend who loved me so much that he was
willing to do more than rub a piece of red construction paper against
my wrist. He was willing to seal our friendship with real blood, his
blood. That was a bargain my eight year old brain couldn't pass up.
And so my relationship with Jesus began.
*
* *
Of
course, when you're eight, nobody reads you Luke 14:25-33(NLT):
A large crowd was
following Jesus. He turned around and said to them, “If you want to
be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison — your
father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes,
even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. And if you
do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.
“But don’t begin until you
count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building
without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to
finish it? Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before
running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. They
would say, ‘There’s the person who started that building and
couldn’t afford to finish it!’
“Or what king would go to war
against another king without first sitting down with his counselors
to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000
soldiers marching against him? And if he can’t, he will send a
delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far
away. So you cannot become my disciple without giving up everything
you own.”
No!
Instead, they tell you about God parting the seas, and Jesus walking
on water, and Noah building an ark big enough to cram in two of every
kind of animal. They give you fun crafts to make, prizes for the Bible verses
you memorize, and a sticker if you have perfect attendance, but
somewhere in all of that, they conveniently leave out that as
wonderful as your friendship with Christ is, that it's going to cost
you something. No, not just something, everything.
Maybe
that's too much for a child to swallow at such a young age, but even
as an adult, I can't think of too many churches I've been to where
the pastor has been up front about the whole thing. Where he's gotten
down to business and said, more or less, “Okay, you want to be a
Christian and join our church? Great! But here's a list of what it
might cost you – father, mother, spouse, children, friends, wealth,
property, all of your possessions, popularity, worldly success. Am I
forgetting anything? If I am, you may have to part with that too.
Still interested?”
It
would almost be refreshing to hear someone say that instead of
finding ways to explain away what Jesus actually said and call it
“interpretation.” But many of us, myself included, have become
adept at finding a way to make the Bible say what we want it to so
that we can feel good about doing exactly what Jesus told us not to.
In other words, so we can live for ourselves.
At
any rate, somewhere along the way I blinked and went from being a
little girl who selfishly wanted a best friend and was told I could
have him for nothing more than a prayer to a young woman who realized
that that wasn't the whole truth. That somebody had been holding back
on me. Because the more I read and studied the Bible, the more I
realized that that little prayer wasn't enough. It was enough to
begin the friendship, but it wasn't enough to keep it going. This was
a friendship that was going to require more of me than I'd ever
realized. Much more than a red piece of construction paper that's for
sure.
*
* *
Has an experience of loneliness ever led you to a place of intersection?
If so, what did you learn there?
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