Am I Even Qualified?

I've asked something similar to this my whole life.  Not just am I qualified to write about a relationship with God, but am I even a worthy Christian?

Well, here's my resume, the Curriculum Vitae of my walk with God. 

I grew up in a couple Baptist churches.  One as a child up to 9th grade and another as a teen/ young adult and a sprinkling of a few others I visited.  I was well-trained.  I was prepared with theology, doctrine and song.  I was sitting there as a child singing Victory in Jesus in my frilly dress with knee socks and patent leather shoes every Sunday sucking on a butterscotch from the crunchy bottom of mom's purse. We were the good girls of the church, the well-behaved "McCoy girls." I still didn't feel adequate in my mind.  I had that voice in the back of my thick skull telling me it's not enough.  You will never be cheerful enough, pious enough to be a Christian.  I would listen to well-versed college theology students in Bible study and want to desperately know more, but was held back because of that nagging voice saying, "You won't be content not being a Biblical scholar."  I almost married a youth pastor but could never visualize that life for me.

For years, I made sure my life was one of chaos.  I started college and flunked miserably during my parents' acrimonious divorce.  My fiancé left me (granted, he really needed to, I was the worst).  Death took several family members. I tried the Greek life in College.  I tried to find friends that would "stick."  I turned to years of drinking at parties, heavy doses of prescribed drugs for depression/ anxiety that left me a zombie, and relationships with men so toxic I never thought I would meet "Mr. Right."

But you know what?  God still kept trying to speak to me.  He kept trying to draw me back into his arms and I just turned my back over and over all through my twenties. 

I remember a book on the floor of my bedroom that had fallen off my nightstand face down.  It said something on the back like, "Are you seeking me?" or "I'm here, come back to me."  I don't remember because it was 20+ years ago, but I know it was so jarring, that I wrote an e-mail to a large church in the area just asking for prayer. 

I was completely broken down mentally, lonesome, and was worn down from the promiscuous relationships with men that treated me like garbage.  That church I e-mailed prayed for me without question.  I sought out healing for my abandonment issues, and my overwhelming rage through a wonderful Christian counselor.  I tried some new-fangled hip churches where I could become involved.  I produced beautiful artwork for multiple covers of their bulletins, even put my art in a show at the church gallery (who was very art and music centered) and participated in a small group.  It worked for a little while.  The old ways crept back.  Again, the voice was there telling me, "These people aren't your friends." "Everyone in this small group has children and you are single.  Remember? you hate children."  Meanwhile, I kept trying to find another "romance" to fill the void (I needed a man like I needed a hole in my head.)

At some point, I gave up the thought of marriage altogether.  It wasn't going to happen and working on myself was what was best.  I still saw my counselor and pressed on.  I stopped going to small group, but kept going to the church and sort of blended in.  I never spoke to anyone, I just listened.  It was very lonely.  I am an awkward person, and it is hard to make/ keep friends, but I am pleasant when I try. I worked on art for therapy, and it helped immensely.  I made some beautiful pieces during this time for my healing.  I think some scared my mom, because of the dark nature of them, but it brought out the light in me.

Fast forward, I get a response from a singles ad on a website.  I had forgotten I was still on there. I messaged this handsome fellow a long time ago and he responded, but I had been already settling for another man that wanted to date me and everyone else in the United States at the same time.  I was stood up by the "dates all the chicks" guy on Valentine's Day and gave up on that one too. I eventually start talking to the handsome guy gradually on the phone and lunch dates every day and long story short, we are married a year later. (there's way more to our love story, but we will save that for another day).

We made the decision to find a church and start attending before we got married.  He was raised Catholic-ish and of course, I was Baptist.  We found a loving home at a local Methodist church.  We both felt embraced and welcomed.  I felt like I was whole.  I could be a Christian for real!  The church was thriving.  Then, our pastor was moved to a new church.  It was very sad, but we looked forward to a new pastor and continued growth.  Nope.  We got an unfriendly curmudgeon of a man who needed to retire.  It brought my church family down and many of us left.  We stopped going to church altogether.  I gave up again because of man.  Here's where the scripture gets tossed in for you guys.  What does the Bible say about believing in man?

Psalms 118:8: It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man. 

I have since learned; this is the truth.  Man will always let you down, but God never does.

We checked out a few other churches that just didn't fit us.  We were still newly married and didn't want children and those churches were crawling with them and happy young families which in my alternative art girl mind I think: ew, gross, kids.

Now here we are.  We make our way to our church family. Finally.  We start attending the church our old associate pastor from the Methodist Church moved to.  Was I putting my faith in man again?  Yeah, probably, we really like our pastor, plus he married us: nostalgia!  We join the church.  After my sweet nephew is born, I decide kids aren't that gross.  We try for our own child.  We were told it wasn't going to happen.  I am 34 at this time and my husband is 39.  

Again, I trusted in God.  I got down on my knees at that altar and prayed deeply for that child.  I promised that if God gave him to me, (I was confident in a son, but happy either way - don't ask me how, but a Mama knows) that I would bring him up devoted to Jesus.  I am not sure how long it was after that prayer, a week or two, but I awoke on a Sunday morning at 5 am weirdly confident.  I took my last pregnancy test, a digital fancy one, knowing full well I had been at the fertility doctor a week before and nothing was on that ultrasound but cystic ovaries.  I was pregnant.  We welcomed our son, Evan Arthur on July 28, 2015.  

We stopped going to church for fear of interrupting everyone with a screaming colicky baby.  I hated sitting in a nursery the whole service not hearing  what was going on.  Motherhood is so challenging.  The sicknesses: constant ear infections, busting his head open and staples, a broken femur a couple years ago, ADHD, but he has been my greatest gift.  

We end up going to church sporadically.  I rarely crack open God's Word.

2019 comes.  That is the year our lives change dramatically.  My husband can't breathe.  He's been coughing for weeks, and he is exhausted.  At our son's 4th birthday, multiple family members pointed out his horribly swollen legs.  After much urging, I get him to see the family doctor.  I think, well, it's untreated Diabetes and bronchitis.  Think again, sister.  He is in heart failure.  His heart is enlarged and those swollen legs & the coughing are from fluid retention.  He is pretty much at death's door.  We return to our church family for strength.  They prayed and wept with us.  I realize we should have never left.

At his heart catherization, we find out that he has 100% blockages in all of his main arteries.  The only way his heart was still beating was that it made its own bypasses to continue to function.  The doctor explained it was rare but did occur.  He praised it as a miracle, and we should be grateful that he didn't have a massive heart attack or stroke.  Our pastor was with us and some of our family, I don't know how I did it, but I left there and ate lunch.  How can I eat at a time like this? My husband had no short term or long-term disability and I would be the sole breadwinner for months.  I had peace about the situation even though I was reeling.  Believe me, I went up and down about the peace, but I knew we would make it through this.  I humbled myself and raised money so we could get through that time.  Our families helped, co-workers, friends and even people I had never met.  We were truly blessed by cards, notes, monetary donations and just plain snuggles.

On the day of my husband's quintuple bypass surgery, my family and church family were there.  He was in there for 6-8 hours and I colored in coloring books, read, laughed, ate tasty hospital chili (that's a whole 'nother story too - best chili ever) and I spent quiet time in the hospital chapel where I prayed every day while he was there.  God showed up in a way I couldn't imagine.  That peace was beyond what I can understand.  He had no complications, a full recovery and was back to work in a couple months.  We were strong as ever!

Here's where COVID hits - 

I am furloughed and laid off.  Everything closes for a bit.  It's just a waiting game.  

What does God do?  He shows up like usual.  I had been praying for a new job and during that time, that voice in my head, much different this time, said WAIT.  I was applying for jobs before COVID and I kept hearing WAIT.  When COVID came, I was able to stay home for a while and take some time after caring for Brian and a small child.  I got closer to God by studying my Bible and reading devotionals.  The WAIT was what I needed.  Even though the church doors were closed, and we had to worship either outside or online, I renewed my relationship with the Lord.  I created some beautiful artwork on post cards for shut ins of our church and sold some postcards and paintings to multiple other people.

We have a few bumps and hiccups and a broken leg (my son) along the way, but I still have Jesus. My son has Jesus.  He was baptized just this Palm Sunday and we were never prouder.  He is wise beyond his years, a unique soul, kind, encouraging, strong, funny and loves to learn about Jesus.

Every time I have turned away, I realized I was wrong and living a life without Him is far more difficult than with Him. 

Christians will still have bad days.  I have miserable days at a job I am unhappy in right now, but I feel truly overwhelmed by God's love each day.  I pray for strength every morning before I go into work, and I listen to the online Bible study our church began during COVID that continues to grow and reach out to people around the world.  I also lift myself up with some good tunes and come home and paint when I need it.

Now how did this post end up so lengthy? Why did I tell my whole life story? Maybe it needed to be this long for credibility. As I sit here and look back, am I qualified to write a blog that could impact the faith of others? 

God has been stirring something in me to do this for a while. I remember lying in bed a month or so ago with the urge to write a Christian blog, for the fiftieth time, and of course, asking God why?  What can I even give?  He said so clearly to me:  "it's your story."  Your story is what you should share with people.

Remember the woman at the well?  I just love her story.  She was as flawed as I am, but to Jesus it didn't matter. He qualified her.  He came for a drink of water at the well.  He knew she was a Samaritan, an enemy to the Jewish people.  He also knew that she had been with many men, which made her a double outcast.  She was a believer though.  The woman knew a Messiah was coming. She believed his words instantly when he read her story to her like it were listed on an invisible scroll: 

²⁸ The woman then left her waterpot, went her way into the city, and said to the men, ²⁹ “Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?” John 4:28-29

Here's my qualifications:

I love Jesus.  My God is always with me.  He gave me grace and mercy when I didn't deserve it. in my fourty-two years on this planet.

I may not have a degree in Theology, but when God calls you, He qualifies you.   

He qualified me through my story.