Alright, I couldn’t leave that last post up too long. It was making me uncomfortable to leave it hanging there. So now I will get to the “Hallelujah!” part.
I had several friends who attended a local non-denominational church in Coeur d’Alene, which I had had some brief experiences with involving the youth group ministry at my high school (which I mentioned previously). I decided I didn’t really like this church because it felt really fake to me. Everybody seemed way too happy. Also, coming from a liturgical church setting, the charismaticism made me feel uncomfortable.
So, God, of course, brought me to that church and saved me there. Those are the kinds of things He tends to do with judgmental people like me.
Shortly after feeling better due to God’s grace to me through the antidepressants I was taking, a friend from class invited me to come to their weekly youth group meeting at the church. Surprisingly, I wanted to go. And even stranger, I went by myself.
That first night I felt a bit uncomfortable. And to be honest, I never got over the perception of plastic smiles and clickiness. But my soul knew it needed God and that was why I was there. Nothing revolutionary happened that night.
The second week I went again. This time I convinced my friend, Tara, to go with me. The youth pastor preached a sermon on King Asa in 2 Chronicles 19-20. When a crucial day of battle came, he trusted in the Lord for victory, unlike his father Jehoshaphat, who turned to make allies with other nations. Asa believed God so much that he sent out the weakest part of his army, the musicians, marching in front of the rest and singing praises to the Lord:
“Give thanks to the Lord, for his steadfast love endures forever” (20:21).
When the pastor finished the story he said, “You don’t have to fight your battles anymore. God will do that.” I felt something deeply when I heard those words and I wondered if God really cared. I sat down before Him and said “If you exist, if you really are good and love me and will fight my battles for me, then somehow show me.”
This was a bit scary for me. What if nothing happened? I would leave the church that night feeling empty, feeling like God was just religion, like I had felt in all of my previous church experiences.
Before I finished the prayer, a hand was placed on my back. It was the hand of my friend Bryon standing behind me, but I knew in that instant that it was really the hand of God. I broke down in amazement and gratitude and I believed.
I went home that night and I opened up my Bible, which I had probably not done since I was confirmed. The pastor had said, “If you’re not familiar with what’s in there, open it up in the very middle and you’ll hit the Psalms. That is a good place to start.” So that’s what I did.
Whenever I feel like the Word of God is dead, I need to remember that first time I opened up my Bible and it was so alive to me. I felt like the psalms explained all the things I had felt in my depression that I could not describe. I felt understood. I felt like God had somehow been intimately aware of my struggles all along.
I had known the gospel story since I was very small. Now I believed. I wanted to follow God. In the following weeks and months, I experienced the fruit of this change deep down inside of me. I started the process of confession and repentance for sin. I wanted to learn about God and get involved with other believers. Bitterness and resentment towards people I knew was being killed in me. It was very encouraging to see all of this happen.
“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of the soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb 4:12).
Satan loves to taunt and torture new believers. So does the flesh. More about that next time.
