Faith Journey: Part Two

The journey continues...

If life is a road, then eventually my journey down it wound away from First Baptist of Buda. It was a forced change of direction, for the church split. At age seventeen, I did not seek, nor did I care, to know the real reason for the ailment that cast out my pastor and youth minister. I was content merely to complain about the injustice of it all. Years later, I found out it was a parishioner’s entrepreneurial business deal, in which he sought investors from within the church, that divided the congregation, and those I followed out of First Baptist, the pastor, youth minister, and a small group of parents, were the ones mistakenly mixed up in the sour boondoggle. Nevertheless, my parents, who had become less than satisfied with the church and, having been duped, lost money in the investment, decided to move their membership to another Baptist church across town. It was there I finished my last year as a “youth.” On one of the first Sundays I began attending this new church, the youth minister resigned and left within the week. To this day I do not know the reason. This rapid succession of change – these potholes in my life road – wrapped me in uneasiness. I was certain of nothing. Just as, at age eight, I lost all confidence in the certainty of a long life, so did my cozy home environment crumble as I began college at Southwest Texas State University.

The only thing left to fall would be self-confidence, both spiritually and physically, and the wrecking ball would come midway through my first year of college, from a Bible study in which Hebrews 11:1 was expounded. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” I was taught that the word “hope” denoted certainty rather than unsure expectation. It was tight-fisted assurance rather than a wringing of the hands. Therefore, the verse could be read, “Now faith is being certain of what we are certain for and certain of what we do not see.” I was taught that this was the essence of being a Christian – to know you were saved and to completely rest in that fact. And because nothing in my life was certain – especially my own salvation, which I agonized over silently year after year, my constant sins of dishonesty, laziness, and adolescent lust jack-hammering my mind with doubt – I feared I did not possess true faith. In those years, full of confused prayers and dozens of “rededications,” I continually recalled a heavy-as-brick statement by Rick, a speaker at one of the youth camps I had once attended. With dark, certain eyes and an intensely fixating glare, Rick had looked us all over and said concerning salvation, “If you’re 95% sure you’re saved, you are 100% wrong!” This quote pounded in my head for years.

Hebrews 11:1, if it commanded me to be certain, was a verse to which I knew I could never live up. In high school a pattern of “rededicating my life to the Lord” had begun, taking place at almost every event I attended; I believed salvation was all about my individual decision, and I had prayed for salvation enough times to save a small country. This cycle only grew more intense in college. After all, I imagined I was so young that night years before under the covers that I most likely did not get the prayer right. I hadn’t fully understood the weight of sin or the weight of glory at that age, so obviously that cry to Jesus was of dubious validity. There was no joy in my journey of my faith. Was I even traveling the right road? As each year passed, I would come face to face again with the euangelion, and each year the need for salvation would gain more weight, become much direr a situation. So, kneeling again, I would grapple for grace, beg for eternal safety.

My struggle centered not only on spiritual uncertainty. My daily behavior while in college was shaped by a pervading sense that I was not – could not be – anyone of importance. With my friends I would welcome, sometimes even instigate, humorous but degrading jabs directed at me, mainly because I did not feel worthy of nobler words. In the occasional relationship with a girl, time and again she would mention my lack of confidence, how disconcerting it was to her that I saw myself able to influence no one. The few periods in which I took on a leadership role within a campus ministry or church group, I was plagued internally by constant doubts that I was doing any real, lasting good. I believed that once I stopped sinning and perfected a daily practice of reading the Bible, praying, and, as a result, experiencing daily revelation from God, only then would I feel the love of Christ that so many other Christians gushed about. God would not be silent to someone who was truly faithful, truly saved.

One of the first moments of illumination through the dusty murk of this crisis came halfway through my time in college ...

To be continued...