If I told the whole story, it would be far too long for the space afforded here. So, this is the abbreviated version.
I was “born into” the church. My dad was a preacher of the faith for 60 years. He was brought up by a Christian mother and survived the great depression and an abusive alcoholic father. His life story is far more interesting than mine and when I heard the stories of his life of poverty and abuse, I was glad for how I was raised. I have no doubt that he loved us, but that love was not always demonstrated in ways that I understood or appreciated.
I am nearing the end of my journey. My years on this earth will be far less than some people my age, but I am not afraid of what I face. I have learned more about myself in the last 10 years of my life, than in all the years prior. For all the years I spent sitting through my dad’s sermons, I now know that the grace of God is a vital part of my faith. I don’t remember hearing a lot about the Holy Spirit, grace, or the role they played in my salvation. I do remember hearing a lot about hell and the horrors of that place. What I needed was to hear more about the unfailing love of God. During my teenage years and early adulthood, it seemed that all I could see was the hurt that family and others could inflict.
Now, I try to focus on living what I believe is more important for the Christian’s way of life. The principles of love and faith mean more to me now than at any other time in my life. I want God to see me through the blood of Christ and not as I truly am – a sinner. I have seen God’s love demonstrated. I have felt grace. I have looked angels in the face. And yes, I believe I have seen miracles. God is good; God is good all the time.
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