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Current mood:reflective
My Story...
So, what's my angle anyway? How did I get to where I am? How did I become an exile? When did I first meet God?
Funnily enough, that is a difficult question to answer. There were no blinding flashes of light or Jesus appearing at the foot of my bed or anything.
To really talk about my first encounter with God, I have to go back to when I was four years old. I don't remember this, but apparently after visiting church a few times, I began to stop people in the street. I would say "Do you know they put nails in his hands...?" And that sort of thing. (In my early adolescence I used to cringe whenever I was teasingly reminded of this, but now I am glad that I was reminded.)
After we moved house when I was five, my family stopped going to church. I grew up like most kids in my area, with little thought to God until I was much older.
Always an avid reader, my year seven teacher wanted to give me a challenge. He handed me one of the biggest books I had ever seen - The Lord of the Rings. Once I began reading, I could not put it down. There was something about it...something that I couldn't quite put my finger on...like something glimpsed out of the corner of my eye. I tried, without success, to chase this thing down for more than 15 years. My knowledge of things Tolkien was so good that I even moderated a Tolkien related website* for about three years. Many years later, I finally understood that The Lord of the Rings is iconic in more than just the popular sense. It invites the reader to look through the fiction to what is quietly gazing on them from afar, piercing the heart.
At age 15, I had the great privilidge of being allowed to attend a private school. My parents wanted to give me a good education but instead I got something much greater. The school, Toorak College in Mt Eliza, introduced me to quality Christian teaching, under the chaplaincy of Rev. Peter Burnham. A progressive Christian, I cannot say that I would agree with his theolgy today, but at the time it was as if someone had finally opened the window of my life and let in some fresh air. I couldn't even say Jesus' name without going weak at the knees. Looking back, I feel like rolling my eyes at my own adolescent goeyness.
After school, I went to Uni like you are 's'posed to'. I was studying a double degree in Accounting and Computing and planning on having a nice, clean, well-paid career. But God had other plans. I went through the mill: dropped out of uni, marriage, near death in childbirth, divorce.
After that, I decided that I was finally going to do what I wanted to do. I enrolled in Chisholm Institute's Professional Writing and Editing Course. I found my 'thing' in life. I had a modest talent for writing and writing really made me happy. (will post a sample of my fiction soon).
Another thing I wanted to do was go to church again. I wanted to hear some more of that 'good sense' I remembered. I naively expected to find a good church immediately and I thought that all churches were good. Sadly, things did not work out. It began with a nagging feeling that 'something is just not right'. When I asked one of the assistant pastors about this, they told me that this was Satan's voice and I should ignore it. But the feeling only got stronger, despite pretty intensive prayer and even deliverance prayer.
I assumed the problem was with me, and so doggedly continued to attend. After a while, the woman who had invited me, Bobbi, announced that she would be my mentor. I had never had a mentor before, but it sounded like a good thing, so I acquiesced. Bobbi began to introduce me to the basics, step by step, rule by rule. Most importantly, I must read my Bible and pray to a particular formula every day or I would not 'grow in Christ'. There was no one else available to ask, so I tried to go along with this too. After a week I gave in. I felt like a failure. Bobbi told me that I was allowed to approach any of the pastors but they never seemed to answer their phones or return messages. I did get through to one once, after about two weeks, but I gave up on her since in took so long to get to talk to her.
It was soon obvious that I was a square peg and there were only round holes in this church. Bobbi began 'discussing my situation' with the pastors. The situation got no better. I disassiocated myself from Bobbi after she ridiculed me in public and invited others to do the same. Spirtually alone and feeling I must be the only person God didn't want in his family, I became deeply depressed. The rejection I felt from the church I imagined was from God. In desperation, I contacted the only other person in the chruch I knew, Kylie.
I must say, that Kylie probably saved my life. I badgered her with questions, like If we are all offered the choice of Heaven or Hell when we die, why is evangelism so important? She could not answer. Also, just one point of view on any doctrine was not enough for me. Kylie suggested I study Theology. After a lot of anguished prayer, in 2006 I began a degree at Tabor's Berwick annex. It was here that I discovered that there were in fact differenet types of prayer that were equally valid. I wondered what else I'd been incorrectly taught.
At Kylie's urging, I tried to persevere with the church, but things got no better. Each Sunday I would take my seat and usually be left the only one sitting in my row. It got very discouraging. Finally, towards the end of 2007, I felt God allowed me to leave the church. The sense of relief was like getting out of an abusive marriage (and I've done that too). God's voice was so much clearer, as if the static had been removed from the line. I began not to just grow in tiny increments but to thrive. God brought people into my life to help facilitate the healing process, and their influence has been the subject of some of my other blogs. They gave me more pastoral care in four minutes than the church had given me in four years. And it wasn't their responsiblity. I rediscovered Joy.
In reflection, I got to see what an unhealthy church looks like and what it does to people. I actually lost God for a while. What has shocked me the most since is how common this problem is. A quick google on 'toxic church' revealed 3,000,000 results. Tragic.
I thank God for the people he sent to put the stitches in. Tolkien introduced me to his good friend C.S. Lewis. Reading Mere Christianity, it finally it felt like someone was speaking my language.
I know I am called to study theology for some reason. I don't know the exact destination, but I do know the general direction.
[ * www.planet-tolkien.com]
03:10 AM
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