Originally Posted 11/17/07
I didn’t set out to become a Christian. In fact, I had every intention of NOT becoming a Christian. I grew up in a small farming community that centered around a little white church. My father was a deacon and as you may have guessed, if those doors were open, I was there, even baptized a couple of times. So, although I had been dunked twice & was a good little church girl, I had never met Jesus.
At the ripe old age of 23, I had lived in two states, been married, given birth and gotten a divorce. So, of course, I knew EVERYTHING. Using the vast intellect that comes with being in my early twenties and experiencing that much of “life”, I reasoned God out of existence. Since I could not see Him, touch Him or hear Him…..He must not be real.
The next thirty years were lived with the idea when I died that would be it. I did have some vague concepts about becoming “one with the universe”, but I think my involvement in the drug culture & reading Carlos Castaneda had a lot to do with that particular belief & not an actual well thought out reasoning.
This all changed for me after my mom’s husband died and an old friend, a professional gambler, died. My mom and I both were struck at how impersonal a funeral was when done by a pastor who did not know you. My mother decided she had to start going to church again, so that when she died, her preacher and church family would know her. But she would not go unless I went with her. I grudgingly gave up one hour of my Sunday to accommodate her.
We started by visiting the various Baptist churches in our town. I found it easy to slip back into the same place I did as a child. I became rather smug about our one hour on Sunday and took note of those that were not on their way to or from church. I, once again, was a good little church goer without an inkling of who Jesus was. But Mother was just slipping into her 70s and was not in good health. As Mother faced her mortality she was not happy with these churches. She wanted more than they were giving.
I suggested we try a non-denominational church that my boss had invited us to visit. Mother was not sure. Her comment was “That’s one of those churches that raise their hands.” Since my boss kept encouraging me to try her church “Trinity Fellowship”, I talked mother into going at least one time. Little did I know one time was going to be more than enough.
We pulled into the Trinity Fellowship parking lot with the attention-getting round green roof on the sanctuary. We got out of the car and made our way to the double doors into the foyer. But before we could even get to the doors to open them, a man I later learned was Oscar Chavez, burst out the door, grabbed our hands, pumped them vigorously, welcoming us to church while simultaneously leading us down the aisle to the second row from the front in the middle. We were so dazed from the enthusiastic welcome, we did not even realize where he had plunked us until it was too late. (We both preferred the much more private, easy to escape back row.)
The praise and worship segment (as we later learned it was called) had already started. I had no idea how lively a spirit-filled, charismatic church service could be. They had guitars, drums, back up singers and lots of enthusiasm. The fellow in front played guitar & duck-walked across the podium a lot like Chuck Berry. We were amazed to discover he was Pastor Steve Rogers, Head Pastor for Trinity. The people in front of us, behind us, on each side of us & in the other two sections were singing, dancing and talking in tongues. Being a music enthusiast, I was really enjoying the music, but I was looking around thinking, "This music is pretty cool, but these are the craziest people I have ever seen!"
At that very moment I became aware of a figure standing to my right. I looked up and up and up. He was soooooo tall and dressed in a pure white robe. Two thoughts went through my head at the same time. First, I knew no one else could see Him and second, I knew He was Jesus. I stood there dumbfounded and He leaned down and put His arms around me and said “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you”. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I could feel His love pouring into me and as it poured in and filled me completely, I could feel all the anger, hurt, pain, bitterness, shame and sorrow in me begin to wash out because there was no room for it. My life did an instant 180 degree turn.
Before I met Him I was such a hardened sinner. There was not one of the ten commandments that I had not broken at some time. I had been promiscuous, a liar, a thief and a murderer. I had a foul mouth that erupted with the most disgusting epitaphs and curses to anyone who crossed me. My temper was uncontrollable. Now I was pure and clean as a new-born baby. I have no idea what the sermon was that day. All I do know is I met Jesus and He loved me and my life changed. And if He can change me that drastically......He can change anyone.
I didn’t set out to become a Christian. In fact, I had every intention of NOT becoming a Christian. I grew up in a small farming community that centered around a little white church. My father was a deacon and as you may have guessed, if those doors were open, I was there, even baptized a couple of times. So, although I had been dunked twice & was a good little church girl, I had never met Jesus.
At the ripe old age of 23, I had lived in two states, been married, given birth and gotten a divorce. So, of course, I knew EVERYTHING. Using the vast intellect that comes with being in my early twenties and experiencing that much of “life”, I reasoned God out of existence. Since I could not see Him, touch Him or hear Him…..He must not be real.
The next thirty years were lived with the idea when I died that would be it. I did have some vague concepts about becoming “one with the universe”, but I think my involvement in the drug culture & reading Carlos Castaneda had a lot to do with that particular belief & not an actual well thought out reasoning.
This all changed for me after my mom’s husband died and an old friend, a professional gambler, died. My mom and I both were struck at how impersonal a funeral was when done by a pastor who did not know you. My mother decided she had to start going to church again, so that when she died, her preacher and church family would know her. But she would not go unless I went with her. I grudgingly gave up one hour of my Sunday to accommodate her.
We started by visiting the various Baptist churches in our town. I found it easy to slip back into the same place I did as a child. I became rather smug about our one hour on Sunday and took note of those that were not on their way to or from church. I, once again, was a good little church goer without an inkling of who Jesus was. But Mother was just slipping into her 70s and was not in good health. As Mother faced her mortality she was not happy with these churches. She wanted more than they were giving.
I suggested we try a non-denominational church that my boss had invited us to visit. Mother was not sure. Her comment was “That’s one of those churches that raise their hands.” Since my boss kept encouraging me to try her church “Trinity Fellowship”, I talked mother into going at least one time. Little did I know one time was going to be more than enough.
We pulled into the Trinity Fellowship parking lot with the attention-getting round green roof on the sanctuary. We got out of the car and made our way to the double doors into the foyer. But before we could even get to the doors to open them, a man I later learned was Oscar Chavez, burst out the door, grabbed our hands, pumped them vigorously, welcoming us to church while simultaneously leading us down the aisle to the second row from the front in the middle. We were so dazed from the enthusiastic welcome, we did not even realize where he had plunked us until it was too late. (We both preferred the much more private, easy to escape back row.)
The praise and worship segment (as we later learned it was called) had already started. I had no idea how lively a spirit-filled, charismatic church service could be. They had guitars, drums, back up singers and lots of enthusiasm. The fellow in front played guitar & duck-walked across the podium a lot like Chuck Berry. We were amazed to discover he was Pastor Steve Rogers, Head Pastor for Trinity. The people in front of us, behind us, on each side of us & in the other two sections were singing, dancing and talking in tongues. Being a music enthusiast, I was really enjoying the music, but I was looking around thinking, "This music is pretty cool, but these are the craziest people I have ever seen!"
At that very moment I became aware of a figure standing to my right. I looked up and up and up. He was soooooo tall and dressed in a pure white robe. Two thoughts went through my head at the same time. First, I knew no one else could see Him and second, I knew He was Jesus. I stood there dumbfounded and He leaned down and put His arms around me and said “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you”. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I could feel His love pouring into me and as it poured in and filled me completely, I could feel all the anger, hurt, pain, bitterness, shame and sorrow in me begin to wash out because there was no room for it. My life did an instant 180 degree turn.
Before I met Him I was such a hardened sinner. There was not one of the ten commandments that I had not broken at some time. I had been promiscuous, a liar, a thief and a murderer. I had a foul mouth that erupted with the most disgusting epitaphs and curses to anyone who crossed me. My temper was uncontrollable. Now I was pure and clean as a new-born baby. I have no idea what the sermon was that day. All I do know is I met Jesus and He loved me and my life changed. And if He can change me that drastically......He can change anyone.
