I
grew up going
to a Methodist church every Sunday. We did Sunday school and the
worship service. I learned all the stories, and knew all the songs. I
didn't hate it, but I don't think I ever "got it" either. It just
seemed like something you did. Of course there's a god, we go and talk
about him every Sunday.
In
Junior High,
one of our coaches told me about Evangelism Explosion and then took me
through the story of sin and redemption. He lead me through the sinners
prayer and told me I had made a great decision. I still didn't really
get what was going on though. That was 1991.
Fast
forward to
1999. I'm married and just started my first "real" job. One of my
coworkers is a good guy and a christian and one night when he and his
wife are over for dinner they briefly mention the church they go to and
the real cool, laid back Sunday night worship service they attend. It
sounds interesting enough to me so we go and check it out. It's pretty
cool, there's a band that plays contemporary and postmodern praise and
worship music, we all sit at little tables and drink coffee and instead
of a sermon, we have discussion topics.
I'm
enjoying it,
but one night the pastor talks about what salvation really is and it
hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't really saved. I sort of thought I
was, but it never sunk in just what that meant. I spent the next few
weeks talking to the pastor about what it all meant and I spent some
time in prayer. It was awkward; I had prayed when I was younger but
this was different. I felt like there were some important things I
needed to say to god. So one night, I'm sitting at my house and I think
to myself "what am I waiting for?" That night I said a very awkward but
sincere prayer and told god that I believed that he created the whole
universe yet knew me personally and that he sent Jesus to die so I
could have eternal life with him. I asked him into my heart and said
Amen.
Nothing
magical
happened. I didn't really expect it but I was kind of hoping something
would feel different. Undaunted though, I told my friends at church
about what I said and what happened and they assured me, I had been
changed.
Lo
and behold
after a few weeks, I did start to feel different. I saw the world in a
little different light. My prayers seemed more intimate. Everywhere you
looked, it was like there were little post-it notes that god left
behind just a little reminder. Sunrises were awesome and somedays, in
the evening when ther was some cloud cover but part of the sun had
broken through and you could see the rays of light streaking down to
the ground, well those were a big "hey what's up" from god. I talked to
god all the time, like he was my friend riding shotgun with me on my
way to work. I don't remember specific replys from those conversations,
but I knew we were rapping.
Things
continued
to go well; I became more involved in the church. I tithed and gave
extra when we started a building fund. I helped lead stewardship
meetings around the new building. I sang in the "praise team". I was
into it whole-hog. On one camping trip we were introduced to something
called prayer journaling. Basically you get away from your distractions
and sit quietly with a pad of paper and a pen. Then you write down your
prayer and then wait. You cleared your mind and listened to god's
response, and wrote it down. I did this several times and usually got a
response. I was told some nice things and some things that really
challenged me. One time when I was talking about one of my journaling
sessions the pastor stopped me and said "I love hearing what you've
got, it's the whole New Testament being poured out for us". That made
me feel really good and really in tune with god and what he was telling
me.
Our
family had
started to expand and in 2001 our second daughter was born. We realized
at this point our 2 bedroom town home wasn't enough. We had a little
money so we bought ourselves a nice big house. Unfortunately, it was on
the opposite side of town, and continuing to attend our church would
have been impractical to say the least. So we began the process of
finding a new church home.
Well,
god
intervened after several unsuccessful attempts at finding a church we
fit with. We got two flyers about some new churches on our door one
weekend and a neighbor reccommended one of them. Sunday morning rolls
around, and for some reason I decided to try the other church first.
Much to my suprise, an old friend from high school was a member of that
church and had served on the planting committee that decided to open
the church in our neighborhood. The people were great, the children's
ministry was just what we were looking for, and I knew that god put us
there for a reason.
We
became
members soon after that, and got involved quickly. The church met at a
middle school, so I got there every morning at 7am to help set up all
the A/V eqipment and the childrens area. It was great. We volunteered
at all the community outreach events the church put on. I helped hang
door-hangers for Easter. I even started hosting a bible study in my
home every week. I was on fire for god. I even witnessed to some random
guy at a Taco Bell while we were eating. It was very awkward and the
guy wasn't into what I had to say, but I left it with a "Jesus loves
you" and knew that I had planted a seed for god. I participated in
Yahoo's christian chat room and led a few people through the Romans
road of salvation and sinners prayer on there.
Also
during this
time I attended a couple of Promise Keepers rallies and was absolutely
blown away. We debated with a group from American Atheists which was
pretty interesting. But I came away from those rallies with a new
appreciation for god and what he was doing in my life. I also came away
with knowledge of apologetics. I'd never heard of these kinds of books
before, but I was very interested. Josh McDowell spoke at one of the
rallies so the next week, I went out and bought The New Evidence That
Demands a Verdict Vol. I&II. It was a massive book, over 500
pages
printed outline style with two columns per page. I read the whole thing
in a month. I couldn't get enough of it. Here was hard evidence for
what I felt in my heart. I read R.C. Sproul, Lee Strobel, C.S. Lewis,
Tony Evans and several other random books I picked up at Half Price.
I
was on fire
before, now I was an absolute 4 alarmer. I led prayer groups at work, I
was donating even more time and money to the church, I put the
full-court god press on my brother who wasn't saved. I was into it. I
laughed at the foolish atheists who had nothing to live for and who
were doing the devil's work.
Then one day, during an investigation of "the other side", which I did
occasionally (to be an effective warrior, you've got to know what the
enemy is up to) I came across this website
www.infidels.org
which
gave me
pause. Here were academics daring to contradict the truth of Josh
McDowell's evidence. That shook me up a little. For whatever reason, it
made the idea of christianity not being real a small possibility. At
that point I had to investigate further. This took me to talkorigins,
skeptic.com and livescience among others. There I read all manner of
blasphemy, but something about the way it was delivered really struck
me. These people didn't seem evil and hatefilled. They didn't appear to
only be concerned with themselves. They didn't act like they were in
cahoots with Satan, and it bothered me.
It's
now early
2005 and I am stuck in a quagmire. So much of my life has been built
around god, and I have some serious concerns about what I believed in.
I still went to church and did all the same things, but I couldn't
shake the feeling that I had it wrong. I started crying out to god,
begging for him to take the doubt from me, give me just a little more
faith. I told him how much I wanted to believe and would he please help
me through this trial. I started doing more at church. I started
reading my bible more. I was searching for something that I could
anchor myself to, but nothing came. About August of that year I
realized I simply didn't believe anymore. Looking back, I can see the
stages of grief that people go through when a loved one dies. I denied
it, I bargained, I got angry. I did all that, but in the end I accepted
it. If biblegod is real, he let me go; I had no choice in the matter. I
used the brain he gave me and did what he made me to do and this is
where I ended up.
Maybe
this is
some kind of trial and eventually he'll call me back, I don't know. It
doesn't seem likely, given what I've learned about the world and the
natural processes that govern it; a god seems superfluous. I still will
say an occasional prayer. Something like "god, I don't know if you're
there or not, I don't think so, but if you are I'd really like to know
it. I very much want to spend eternity in paradise so if you want me
there show me the way to you. You know me better than I do, so you know
best what will bring me back. If you're real I trust that you'll do it.
Thanks." As of yet I haven't received a response.
I'm
not opposed
to a god being real, though I can't see how the god of the bible is
real. However, if there is an afterlife, I want the best one possible.
I would very much like to spend eternity in paradise with the creator
of the universe and my friends and family and all the celebrities of
history. If there is an all powerful creator, I want it on my side
while I'm still living on Earth. I mean, who wouldn't want that? I just
can't force myself to believe in something that my heart and brain
think is a farce, just like I couldn't make myself not believe when I
was a christian. There was a process that had to occur and it happened
in progressive steps.
Anyway,
if you read this whole thing, I'm impressed. Thanks for taking the time
to do so. That's my religion story, so far.
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this testimonial