She Speaks: Fuel for My Faith Journey

I wish that I could share with you the many discombobulated stacks of journals that I’ve been writing in and keeping for most of my life.  I have journals written in spiral notebooks, fancy colorful journals, journals that lay out and format how and what you will write, journals that focus on fitness and health, journals that focus on empowerment, and, I’m ashamed to say, just as my faith journey seems to take so many twists and turns, many of the entries into said journals lack dates.  I often pick up one journal and write in it awhile, then, some weeks later pick up another and write in it.
 
I wonder what my children will think after I’ve gone as they read some of my first entries written by a first or second grader where I journal about the Christmas gifts I’ve received, “I got new mittens!” “I got a new hat” “I got my first journal!” “I lost a mitten!”  “I found a mitten!”  (It’s obvious that I have no journaling experience as I write one of these brief entries on each day in the journal.)
 
God has been the constant in this jumble of journals and in my life.  In my journals I thank Him, I praise Him, I cry out to Him.  At times, I trust Him without hesitation.  At other times, I wonder where He has gone.  I find that, when I allow Him, He drives the desires of my heart.  And, in the past many years, He has been sending me a strong and consistent message.
 
“Bring them to me.”  “Share Your Story.”  “Write Your Book.”  “Plan Your Speech.”  “Bring them to me.”
 
I’ve started my book, “Faith Journey.”  I’ve written the introduction and outlined my ideas.  I’ve come upon a theme for my book.  But, over the past several years, I can’t seem to get going, really get going, with My Book.  This past weekend and for the past twelve plus years, I have attended Set Apart, a Christian Women’s Conference at Northwestern College in Roseville, MN.  This year, my friend Kim inquired about “My Book.”  She, with all the love and encouragement you can find in a dear friend, pushed me, prodded me, and gave me an idea to get me going.  “Write a blog,” she said, “This will get you writing on a consistent basis and could some day be the makings of your book.  I said I’d think about it.

Then I received the e-newletter from Lysa Terkuerst about the She Speaks Scholarship.  Oh, and you have to have a blog.  Hmmmm.  Okay, I hear you, God.

“Bring them to me.”  “Share Your Story.”  “Write Your Book.”  “Plan Your Speech.”  “Bring them to me.” 

I’m ready to write that book.  I’m ready to plan that presentation.  I’m ready, God.  Choose me.

"For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, . . . everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. . . . Colossians 1:15 (Msg)

Ghosts in Church

One of my first memories of knowing God was at Sacred Heart Catholic School and first grade.  I have great memories of walking across the playground each morning from the school to the church basement for our milk break.  For a little girl who really didn’t like plain milk, the second, oh so yummy choice of chocolate made each day a little brighter.  But, before we could get that chocolate milk, we needed to bring our milk money to school.  My mom would tie up our dimes and nickels into the corner of one of my dad’s clean white handkerchiefs.  Some of this change was for the milk, and the rest was for the collection plate at our morning church service.  The handkerchief, once knotted, resembled a little white ghost.  As I was a great entertainer even back then, I put on a play for all the other little girls with my little ghost “booooing” and “wooooing” and flying all around our little veil-covered heads.  The show ended very abruptly as Sr. Mary Ann Putchelli placed a firm hand on my shoulder, took away my little Casper and moved me into the boys section.  Boys and girls were separated back then (not sure what the nuns thought a group of first grade boys and girls were going to do during church!) but the embarrassment of having to sit by said boys was excruciating.  My face, bright red, (I was a blusher back then) was even redder as Sr. Mary Ann watched me very closely to make sure that I wasn’t going to start a new show for the boys.

Oh the many times that I’ve been stopped abruptly in my life and reminded that “now is not the time for this.”  I can be over zealous and under cautious as I entertain and laugh my way through the day.  And I am constantly reminded as I read, journal and pray that I need to be still and be present in order to hear my God’s voice.  It is only in the present that I will experience His Holy Presence.

Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46.10

Starting the Journey

The very first time that I really truly believed in Jesus Christ as my savior was in eighth grade.  My English/homeroom teacher, Mr. Putbrese, required our class to read “Run Nicky Run,” a book about a New York City gang member who finds God and turns his life around.  Today it would be completely out of the question of whether a Christian book like this could be required reading in a public school.  And perhaps it was a big stretch from the recommended reading list for public schools in the 1970s.  I believe that Mr. Putbrese had very strong convictions about his faith and was willing to stretch the boundaries of recommended reading for his faith.  With his strong convictions, he was able to bring a very real and loving God and the precious son he sacrificed, Jesus, into the lives of this group of thirteen-year-old boys and girls. 

Flash forward 40 years.  I still have my copy of “Run Nicky Run.”  The back pages are filled with my doodling (which I’m still famous for, at least in my own mind) of cool looking crosses, a finger pointing straight up with the words “one way” written nearby, and in reference to something even better than Coke,  “Jesus Christ, He’s the Real Thing!”  From time to time, I re-read this book and remember the impact it had on my faith back then and still has on my faith today.  Tears still come to my eyes as I read about Nicky, a cold blooded murderer and leader of the toughest street gang in New York, as he drops to his knees, tears dripping down his face and declares his faith in our Lord.

Soon after I finished this book 40 years ago, I too found myself on my knees declaring my belief in Jesus Christ who was crucified for our sins.  This began my faith journey.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

One Way

I am directionally challenged.  When I go into a restroom at a big arena, I enter from the right, and as I leave, I take another right.  My journey ends once I’ve completely circled the arena, wondering, “How did I get here?” until I finally find my section.  Finding my seat (“row 22, seat 4, or was it row 4, seat 22?”), is another challenge.

The signs were there.  The section numbers are clearly posted.  With my mind racing on many things at once, I ignored the signs and kept walking.

I’ve been lost many times when driving.  Again, I seem to drive aimlessly, circling my destination, unsure if where I am is where I really want to be.  Many years ago, while driving my “Peewee” aged son to a hockey game, I got lost.  We drove out into the country, circled our destination (I think) and the time got later and later.  Finally my son crawled into the back seat, began dressing for the game, silently sniffing and holding back tears.  I knew we would be late.  He knew we would be late.
 
Again, the signs were clearly posted.  I ignored the signs and insisted, “I’m sure it’s right up ahead.”

We arrived at the arena just in time for the third and last period of the game.  My son, now 22, has forgiven me; however, he declared right then and there, “From now on, you don’t drive to my games!” 

My faith journey has been much the same.  A series of directionally challenged movements, leading me toward God, away from God, and circling God as my mind races on so many different things. 

Now we all know that God hasn’t moved.  He is always there, close by, watching, listening, waiting.  He waits for us to follow His signs, follow His directions, follow His will, knowing that we will come to our destination if only we quiet our minds and LISTEN.

Everyone’s faith journey is different, but we all have the same goal, right?  Some may head straight for that goal, never twisting, never turning, and never looking back.  Unfortunately, I suspect that the majority of our faith journeys are less mapped out.  Many twists and turns, fits and starts, fast forward, reverse and even times of being completely lost.  The signs were there, clearly posted in God’s word.  There is ONE WAY and only ONE WAY.
 
Jesus told him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me." John 14.6