This is the first of four short essays written to explain my journey in Christian faith. I wrote in such a way that the series might communicate easily with readers who do not have a history within the church, primarily by avoiding religious lingo and employing metaphors. I hope I have accomplished this goal.
I grew up in rural southern Georgia. My mom attended college in the next town over, where she met my dad, who was born in Texas and had moved around quite a bit as a child. She was a country girl training to be an elementary school teacher. He played guitar, enjoyed motorcycles, and was a good writer. They fell in love, married young, and I was born later. My mom knew that my dad was a drug user, like many other college students in the mid 70s. However, she was unaware of how to diagnose an addict, which is what my dad turned out to be. After a few rocky years, she and her brothers put him on a Greyhound bus headed north. I was two years old at the time and didn’t see him again until I was fourteen.
Natured very much like my dad, I felt out of place in rural Georgia. When I was seven, my mom married a farmer. He and my dad were as different as two men could be. As I matured and began to wrestle with personal identity, he was unable to help. I needed someone who understood me — why I liked to draw and sing in the choir, why I didn’t care about baseball, and why literature was my favorite class at school. I needed to be known.
We would describe our family as Christians and church-goers, though we attended sporadically and our “religion” didn’t seem to make any noticeable difference in our lives. My grandmother took me to her United Methodist church and the pastor often gave me opportunities to help in the service. Looking back, I realize that God was drawing me to him through his kindness. In the early 90s, the pastor was reassigned and a younger pastor began to serve our congregation. He brought new vitality to the church. He befriended my family and encouraged me to sign up for a weekend youth retreat called Chrysalis. I agreed.
Chrysalis began on Thursday night and continued until Sunday afternoon. The retreat consisted of a long series of “talks,” most of which were given by non-clergy members of local churches. Our mornings began with a worship service in an old chapel on the campgrounds. On Saturday morning, I sat toward the back of the chapel and listened to the speaker give a sermon, the contents of which I have long forgotten. After his closing remarks, he invited anyone who wanted to pray to come to the front of the church. All weekend I wrestled with existential questions, in the way discontent fifteen year-olds do. I walked to the altar at the front of the church and knelt to pray. My prayer was incredibly unspectacular, something like, “Lord, I give up. I am so frustrated with my life. I’m tired of trying to figure things out. I’m tired of trying to be happy. I give up and I give it all to you; you can have all of it. Where I go to college, what I do for a career, who I marry… you can have it all. I’ll do whatever you want.” I had no clue at the moment how seriously God would take my sincere little prayer.
When I prayed this prayer, I felt almost no emotion at all. However, life began to change for me at that moment. During the remaining talks throughout the weekend, I felt God’s presence in a new (though subtle) way. I began to be aware with new clarity that he was communicating with me through the speakers and the circumstances of the weekend. There was one distinct moment when he impressed a thought upon my heart. I was certain that I could “hear” him say, “I made you exactly as you are and I love you. You are my son.” With these words, a young man who felt fatherless and alone suddenly gained a confidence that had been conspicuously absent. I left that weekend feeling, indeed, like a new creature.
Over the rest of the weekend and the following months, it seemed as if life was in a beautiful crescendo. Every aspect of it began to be more vibrant. Sincerely, the fall air seemed more crisp, colors brighter, and the world to be very good. Though I did not know how to explain what was happening, I knew I was experiencing life in a way that felt so different from what I had known before that I could only describe it as a new life altogether. It was beautiful and vibrant. I was full of a joy that I could not explain.