I don’t think I ever loved church or even church folks. But I loved God. I loved the idea that someone could love me and want me that way. The idea that I had a God who saw me as beautiful and worthy even before I knew what that really meant. And I loved prayer. How I didn’t have to worry about Him not hearing me or answering the phone. The thing is, I’ve never done well with rejection. I believe that it was the love of this idea of who God is that kept me in church; even when so called ‘church folks’ or ‘God’s people’ did everything they could to make swear never to enter a sanctuary again. And when I was fifteen, I remember accepting Christ for the first time and I remember that feeling and revelation that this God, this love and idea were more than just a child’s imagination or human desire to serve something greater but it was reality. This God really existed and had chosen me, of all people and on that day I remember choosing Him for myself. Not just because I grew up in the church and had no other choice but because I had felt God. I had experienced Him in all of His truth. I realized that no matter how much God desires and wants us, there will still come a day when we have to knowingly choose Him back. That day I felt like I had accepted this adoption that had been works before my mother’s womb ever embraced me. And every day since that day, I still find myself in tears thinking of His goodness and every day I have to remind myself that nothing I did made me worthy of being chosen by Him but His grace always rules. I remind myself and I thank Him that who I am or what I do or do not do does not determine the size of His love for me. And every day since I was fifteen years old, I know that God made a place for me in His kingdom and I must fight the fight of good faith so I can store up all things eternity and all things God.
An excerpt from my book ‘Surrender’ Available now on Amazon