So much happened when I was 20 years old. It seemed impossible that only a couple years before that time, I had felt so 'together'. Confident, energetic, happy. I wasn't sure I was even the same person anymore. I felt a loneliness and keep emptiness that is hard to even describe. So weighty was the burden I carried it was like strapping on a daily boulder.
What had brought me to this point? Do I really want to open up and try to explain? I hate talking about negative things. I've written this paragraph over and over only to delete it in tears and think "It's too negative" but this part of the story can be no other way. This part of my story was essential if I were to ever begin to understand grace. This part is horribly negative...but it's raw and it's real, and it happened. So here we go...
The church I grew up in as you know if you've read other postings was perhaps the most extreme legalistic type system you could ever encounter. At least close to it. Our security was in the 'right' church. Our hope was in 'doing the right things'. Our confidence was in 'having the correct answers'. If you were asked "Where will you go if you die right now?" your answer would be "I hope Heaven". Presumptuous it was to think you could *know* you were saved so none of us really knew...not about ourselves and certainly not about our brothers and sisters. So the mindset, the perception, was we had to be 'right' to get to Heaven. How right? I don't know, we didn't analyze that far, you just had to be right. You can imagine what this mindset did for unity when everyone thinks they are right, everyone else is wrong and you must 'stand firm' on this or that or go straight to Hell. Yes, frightening doesn't even begin to adequately describe it.
We actually had a list...a literal list, of churches we called 'the brotherhood' that were the only churches we deemed acceptable. We claimed we were not a denomination so I've never understood this but there ya go...we had a brotherhood...a nondenominational denomination and it blew up in our faces. Not just our 1 congregation but multiple ones, the whole 'brotherhood'...imploded. The List of sound churches torn to shreds. A prominent brother and sister had had a terrible falling out and everyone lined up behind one of them or the 3rd option...neutral... which made the other factions dislike them even more and so it all just fell apart. As a 20 year old young lady, I could do nothing but watch in disbelief, in horror...as all I had ever known and believed was shaken to it's core and I knew a truth in every fiber of my being: What I had been told was 'truth' all my life was in fact, not. And that sent me into a spiritual tailspin that could have destroyed my faith utterly had it not been for the grip of grace holding me tightly...a grace to whom I had yet to even be introduced.
I saw people I grew up with and loved with all my heart just walk away from each other. Lifelong relationships over in a moment. The carnage was people like me, youth who saw the reality for what it was and were just young and open-minded enough to be done with the whole thing. So I just walked away from the whole scene. Not to one side, or other, or neutral...from the whole scene entirely. Just done. Adios. There has got to be more to church than *this*, was the scream in my heart. I knew there had to be more just by reading the Word. This was nothing like the church I read about in scripture, no matter how much we claimed 'restoration' as our mantra...it just wasn't there. If there was nothing more than this, just take me now, Jesus, because I want you...but your bride who scripture describes as radiantly beautiful has turned leprous and I have no idea what to do from here.
So it was a very torn, beat up, hurting gal who walked through the doors of The Yellow House, YH for short, in February 1996. YH was a campus Bible chair at Stephen F. Austin State University, the school I had just transferred to. I remember the day well. The sunshine was so brilliant it was like a summer day...unseasonably warm. Happy weather. It made me feel the contrast of my own darkness yet the more and I knew I needed help. I thought maybe this group of fellow students might be what I needed. Technically YH was a ministry of a church like the one I grew up in but on the 'liberal' side of the spectrum...which just meant a lot healthier, vibrant, 'with-it', and balanced from my perspective. I was surprised when lightening didn't strike me when I entered. They weren't on The List ya know. :-) Not even a light year from being on The List.
I found such wonderful friends/brethren there. Fellowship for which I had been literally starving. Spiritual worship I had craved. Healing I desperately needed. I found sanctuary. It was one of the most beautiful times that began when I walked through those glass double doors into that 2 story brick building that looked like a Frat house for the Lord. :-) I loved it. I thrived. Imagine meeting people that could relate to my pain and help me through it in a healthy way. It was glorious. I even remember singing so passionately during worship times I would see the light fixtures trembling. Glorious. It just was. I loved it.
Mental walls falling down, boxes in my mind crumbling.... It was an amazing time of discovery! I was questioning everything and reading scripture without the filter to which I was so accustomed. Letting it just speak and not running everything through a prescribed lenses. Such an amazing time of growth! I felt like Paul when the scales fell from his blind eyes. I truly felt myself seeing for the first time...IN COLOR. Oh, the joy!
Summer rolled around and a friend from YH who was a youth minister at a nearby church invited me to be a counselor at a church camp. I had never been to church camp...I grew up thinking those things were 'innovations' and wrong. So of course I jumped on the opportunity. Thought it would be fun and I could get away for a week and hear some good teaching and enjoy more good singing.
About midway through the week I found myself late one night in the mess hall with my friend who had invited me and the pulpit-minister of a nearby church. The minister was named brother Mays. I had never met him before this camp and never saw him again, but the man changed my life. The 3 of us just got to talking about different things in our spiritual walk when I just opened up and told him I'd never actually been sure I was saved. Ever. Never real abiding peace. Not even after 2 baptisms and now that the '1 true church' idea had fallen apart in my mind when I saw the behaviors that were still seared in my memory, I didn't have security in anything. Spiritually floundering. I lacked a solid foundation on which to rest. I wasn't it. The church wasn't it. Not even 2 baptisms were it. On what do I rest?? --was my soul's aching cry.
Brother Mays was so patient. He gave me his Bible to use while he made me turn to select scripture mainly from Romans. He made me read it to him and then answer questions he would ask. He didn't actually give me the answers...he made me do the work based on what he had me read. I could not possibly put all the quotes here that he had me read...chapters at a time from Romans and other passages elsewhere. The light of grace was just 'switched on'...literally... that night. He told me I could be SURE I was saved, I could KNOW it, on the basis of the finished work of Jesus, not my perfect obedience. The ideas he helped me codify were these: There is no condemnation for those in Christ, we obey and produce fruit of the Spirit because we ARE saved, not in order to be saved. Being saved means being covered in the righteousness of Christ himself...so the righteousness I now have, is not my own but His. Those basics. That his blood continues to regenerate me...continues to cleanse from all sin. He keeps me saved, not perfect knowledge, perfect obedience. Rather, perfect HIM. He IS the foundation on which I can rest.
Now I look back and think "That was Grace 101...why was I so moved to tears??" Because I didn't know those things at all! I had read the entire NT several times but never did I *get* Romans and any teaching really, about grace. This was the first introduction I had to the most beautiful part of the Gospel..it IS the Gospel. How did I miss it for so long?
Of course I did not fully understand grace that night as I don't fully understand it now...but the switch was turned on. God has shown me from that moment onward more and more beauty of his grace which continues to blow my mind.
You know what was crazy?? The weather that night. We were in the piney woods of deep east Texas in the middle of 'The Big Thicket' as it's called. A thunderstorm...and I do mean Texas sized Thunderstorm struck. Lightening, thunder...terrific rain. We were staying in these tiny little cabins that shuddered when the wind blew. Reminded me of a typical chicken coop...only *I* was sleeping in the chicken coop which afforded me my only protection
Everything in the cabin was moist and sticky from the hot stormy weather. What you'd expect weather to be like in the jungles of South America on the Amazon. ;-) Yes, like staying the nite in a chicken coop on the Amazon! That's it! That's how it felt! :-) There was a clap of thunder so loud it hurt my ears and the lightening lit up the sky so that for a moment it looked like broad daylight at 2:00 a.m. Unbelievable storm! I distinctly remember thinking "I could DIE at this camp!! That tree right there could just fall on this tiny cabin and that would be that".
I smiled, rolled over, and went to sleep. If the worst were to happen, I knew where I'd be going. There was no fear any longer. Not even in a chicken coop on the Amazon. No insecurity. No self condemnation. I had Jesus. That's all I needed. I went to sleep and for the first time in my life, slept the sleep of peace.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
My 1st Baptism...then my 2nd...and how I nearly had a 3rd...(spiritual journey memoirs part V)
The Annual Summer Gospel Meeting. It was something our church anticipated all year long. Some churches called it 'Revival'...we shied away from that term because it conjured up images of Holy Ghost stuff that just might include emotional displays and things like speaking in tongues and such. No, 'Gospel Meeting' was properly subdued with the emphasis on GOSPEL and gospel meant baptisms. So many of us growing up in this tradition would plan our baptism around the 'Gospel Meeting'....summer Gospel Meetings...the season of baptizin'.
I was 9 years old. I told Mom I thought it was the time and Mom spent the couple weeks leading up to the Gospel Meeting of taking me through every scripture in the New Testament related to baptism to ensure a proper understanding. I knew what I was doing. "I got this," I thought, "I'm ready." So on the first night of the Gospel Meeting 'I went forward.' That is the same as responding to the 'altar call' in other church traditions. It was a happy nite...but I didn't actually get baptized that nite. The church didn't have a baptistry so we drove an hour to one of our 'sister churches' and for some reason their baptistry wasn't filled and it would have taken hours to fill so the next nite I was immersed into Christ. I felt good. I felt right. It was nice. "I did it, I'm saved," I thought.
The only problem was it didn't seem to change anything a whole lot. I was plagued with doubts. As a teenager I wasn't a whole lot different that my non-Christian friends though I did manage to stay away from the Top Biggies. I had serious faith crises over and over again. I began to doubt whether that baptism even 'took'. I mean, maybe I got something wrong! Maybe my faith just wasn't strong enough. There ya go...that's what it must have been. That's why I continued to doubt and sin...my faith wasn't strong enough and you had to have enough faith to be baptized so there ya go...my baptism had not 'taken'. I was tormented. I blew it. I had to get more faith, somehow...but even if I did, it wasn't during that baptism, so maybe I was just eternally doomed. I tried to just tell myself it was okay but for years would be plagued with knowing my baptism was not perfect...I had not gone into the water **absolutely sure, without a doubt** and my life had not really changed much. Maybe a little...but enough? I knew I wasn't obedient enough. Where would I go if I died? Would I go to Hell? Was Heaven just a mere 'chance'? How much of a 'chance' did I have? What was I to do? What could I do? I felt powerless.
When I was 19 my sister and I confided in each other that we had the same doubts. Evidently her baptism wasn't perfect either. We both had no peace. So we decided to do what any good young legalists should do... read the whole New Testament and get baptized together *and get it RIGHT.* I figured if I read enough, prayed enough, and basically 'psyched myself up enough' to have no doubts, I'd be good to go this time around. God would have to accept my baptism...He just had to. I'd get it right this time. I'd make a list, check it twice, and get it done...correctly. No mistakes. No misunderstandings. I'd make SURE. I could not and would not mess it up this time. It was too important.
So that's what I did. I even remember being under the water and thinking "I'm not doubting...nope...not doubting...not gonna do it". I BELIEVE!" "I did it!!" Let the choruses sing, Julie did it RIGHT this time.
I was happy with myself. By way of baptisms it was just about as perfect as one would hope. I aced it. Strong faith. Knew what I was doing. This one must have taken. Very much like my straight A status at school. I get an A+ on baptism. God must be so proud of me.
The problem was it was more seriously flawed than the first time around because it was even more *all about ME.* My faith, my form, my complete immersion (make sure arms and nose and all body parts are immersed because if you miss part of a limb that might not take as a proper baptism either). The problem with both my baptisms was the legalistic lenses through which I was viewing them.
The beauty and power in baptism is NOT about the person being immersed but into WHOM they are being immersed. The imagery of the death/burial/resurrection is supposed to show *Christ* as the focus...his death, burial, and resurrection which we are invited to mirror. The working in baptism is the *working of God* as it says in Colossians 2:12 "having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the *working of God*, who raised him from the dead." Somehow I had missed this and thought my part had to be just right or it would not 'take'. So no wonder I had so much 'performance anxiety' and pressure. I was trying to save myself.
I have met many people who have the same experience of being baptized not once, twice, but even three, four, or more times...all because of fear that they were not good enough or did it perfectly enough. This whole idea is ironically the opposite of the Gospel message which is this: Jesus lived the life we could not, died for sinners who cannot get it right, and gives us the gift of a righteousness NOT our own.
So it comes down to this: What is the basis of my salvation? My own perfect obedience to baptism or anything I can do? No, the basis is *mercy*:
"But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of *his mercy*. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal *by the Holy Spirit*, whom *he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior*, so that, having been *justified by his grace*, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life." Titus 3:4-7
In the past year of so much spiritual growth I actually had the fleeting thought of being baptized again. Maybe both baptisms were so legalistic as to be loathsome to God...maybe I needed one that was with the mindset of joy and grace...a focus of receiving rather than 'doing.' I briefly discussed it with my wise husband and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Do you see what you're doing? Think about it, Julie." Yes, I get it...I was falling in the same mindset as before...all about me...and doing it *just right* as if I'm the one saving myself by my act of perfect obedience.
In the end, I know God did not find my two baptisms loathsome....he had and continues to have...MERCY. They were flawed, yes. Seriously? Yes. Seriously flawed. He saved me in spite of that fact. He saved me, not because he owed me for my fine baptisms. He saved me because of his infinite mercy to someone *wholly undeserving*. He gave me a gift, not a wage but a free gift. What I was powerless to do, He did. What is amazing is that it is the gift that literally keeps on giving. Everyday he keeps saving me in spite of my imperfect acts of obedience. No matter how hard I try and fail...He keeps on saving me...there is the sense in which we are being saved on a continual basis.
"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." I Corinthians 1:18
Salvation has always been on the basis of mercy...by grace through faith. It has never been on the basis of my obedience...because I could never be obedient enough to merit salvation. Ever. No matter how hard I try. To even attempt is to literally never have a moment's true peace. Ever. Ironically, it is only because I am saved that I then can become obedient and glorify God by my obedience *which He is working within me*.
"To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me." Colossians 1: 29
So there ya go. I could have been baptized 100 times and each time would have been just as flawed as the time before because I, Juliet Power, am a flawed person. Thank God for his mercy, which saves and continues to save me.
I was 9 years old. I told Mom I thought it was the time and Mom spent the couple weeks leading up to the Gospel Meeting of taking me through every scripture in the New Testament related to baptism to ensure a proper understanding. I knew what I was doing. "I got this," I thought, "I'm ready." So on the first night of the Gospel Meeting 'I went forward.' That is the same as responding to the 'altar call' in other church traditions. It was a happy nite...but I didn't actually get baptized that nite. The church didn't have a baptistry so we drove an hour to one of our 'sister churches' and for some reason their baptistry wasn't filled and it would have taken hours to fill so the next nite I was immersed into Christ. I felt good. I felt right. It was nice. "I did it, I'm saved," I thought.
The only problem was it didn't seem to change anything a whole lot. I was plagued with doubts. As a teenager I wasn't a whole lot different that my non-Christian friends though I did manage to stay away from the Top Biggies. I had serious faith crises over and over again. I began to doubt whether that baptism even 'took'. I mean, maybe I got something wrong! Maybe my faith just wasn't strong enough. There ya go...that's what it must have been. That's why I continued to doubt and sin...my faith wasn't strong enough and you had to have enough faith to be baptized so there ya go...my baptism had not 'taken'. I was tormented. I blew it. I had to get more faith, somehow...but even if I did, it wasn't during that baptism, so maybe I was just eternally doomed. I tried to just tell myself it was okay but for years would be plagued with knowing my baptism was not perfect...I had not gone into the water **absolutely sure, without a doubt** and my life had not really changed much. Maybe a little...but enough? I knew I wasn't obedient enough. Where would I go if I died? Would I go to Hell? Was Heaven just a mere 'chance'? How much of a 'chance' did I have? What was I to do? What could I do? I felt powerless.
When I was 19 my sister and I confided in each other that we had the same doubts. Evidently her baptism wasn't perfect either. We both had no peace. So we decided to do what any good young legalists should do... read the whole New Testament and get baptized together *and get it RIGHT.* I figured if I read enough, prayed enough, and basically 'psyched myself up enough' to have no doubts, I'd be good to go this time around. God would have to accept my baptism...He just had to. I'd get it right this time. I'd make a list, check it twice, and get it done...correctly. No mistakes. No misunderstandings. I'd make SURE. I could not and would not mess it up this time. It was too important.
So that's what I did. I even remember being under the water and thinking "I'm not doubting...nope...not doubting...not gonna do it". I BELIEVE!" "I did it!!" Let the choruses sing, Julie did it RIGHT this time.
I was happy with myself. By way of baptisms it was just about as perfect as one would hope. I aced it. Strong faith. Knew what I was doing. This one must have taken. Very much like my straight A status at school. I get an A+ on baptism. God must be so proud of me.
The problem was it was more seriously flawed than the first time around because it was even more *all about ME.* My faith, my form, my complete immersion (make sure arms and nose and all body parts are immersed because if you miss part of a limb that might not take as a proper baptism either). The problem with both my baptisms was the legalistic lenses through which I was viewing them.
The beauty and power in baptism is NOT about the person being immersed but into WHOM they are being immersed. The imagery of the death/burial/resurrection is supposed to show *Christ* as the focus...his death, burial, and resurrection which we are invited to mirror. The working in baptism is the *working of God* as it says in Colossians 2:12 "having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the *working of God*, who raised him from the dead." Somehow I had missed this and thought my part had to be just right or it would not 'take'. So no wonder I had so much 'performance anxiety' and pressure. I was trying to save myself.
I have met many people who have the same experience of being baptized not once, twice, but even three, four, or more times...all because of fear that they were not good enough or did it perfectly enough. This whole idea is ironically the opposite of the Gospel message which is this: Jesus lived the life we could not, died for sinners who cannot get it right, and gives us the gift of a righteousness NOT our own.
So it comes down to this: What is the basis of my salvation? My own perfect obedience to baptism or anything I can do? No, the basis is *mercy*:
"But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of *his mercy*. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal *by the Holy Spirit*, whom *he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior*, so that, having been *justified by his grace*, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life." Titus 3:4-7
In the past year of so much spiritual growth I actually had the fleeting thought of being baptized again. Maybe both baptisms were so legalistic as to be loathsome to God...maybe I needed one that was with the mindset of joy and grace...a focus of receiving rather than 'doing.' I briefly discussed it with my wise husband and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Do you see what you're doing? Think about it, Julie." Yes, I get it...I was falling in the same mindset as before...all about me...and doing it *just right* as if I'm the one saving myself by my act of perfect obedience.
In the end, I know God did not find my two baptisms loathsome....he had and continues to have...MERCY. They were flawed, yes. Seriously? Yes. Seriously flawed. He saved me in spite of that fact. He saved me, not because he owed me for my fine baptisms. He saved me because of his infinite mercy to someone *wholly undeserving*. He gave me a gift, not a wage but a free gift. What I was powerless to do, He did. What is amazing is that it is the gift that literally keeps on giving. Everyday he keeps saving me in spite of my imperfect acts of obedience. No matter how hard I try and fail...He keeps on saving me...there is the sense in which we are being saved on a continual basis.
"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." I Corinthians 1:18
Salvation has always been on the basis of mercy...by grace through faith. It has never been on the basis of my obedience...because I could never be obedient enough to merit salvation. Ever. No matter how hard I try. To even attempt is to literally never have a moment's true peace. Ever. Ironically, it is only because I am saved that I then can become obedient and glorify God by my obedience *which He is working within me*.
"To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me." Colossians 1: 29
So there ya go. I could have been baptized 100 times and each time would have been just as flawed as the time before because I, Juliet Power, am a flawed person. Thank God for his mercy, which saves and continues to save me.
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