Meeting Jesus, a Personal God
I was raised in classic American middle class home. I was a raging perfectionist with a driving desire to be liked by teachers, loved by boys and adored by friends and family. My desires were met in every ‘A’ I brought home to my parents, every honor I received on my volleyball team, whenever I made a room full of friends laugh, and every time a cute boy asked me out.
Then came college and all of the sudden my parents were far away, my volleyball teammates and friends were dispersed and so what was I left….boys (well I guess men…they were in college after all). And so what pleased college men was your willingness to drink, party, and wear skirts that would make a mother cringe. And so I did and the boys were pleased, I however was becoming increasingly more aware of my weariness in preforming to others standards.
The pit in my stomach grew with every weekend that came and went, a thousand hangovers, a thousand embarrassing words that left my lips, and a thousand people that cared little for me sober.
And then a girl told me about Jesus. I knew who Jesus was, after all I was the perfect child (church attendance included). But she told me about a God that was personal, and so began a year long journey of getting to know this God that culminated with one of the sweetest days of my life when through tears as big as dimes rolling down my faces I recognized my total depravity and my unparalleled need for Him.
And so that day I was saved by what Christ did on that hill in Jerusalem two-thousand years ago.
That single event, the entirety of the Gospel, has since transformed my world view into one of desiring less of me and more of whatever beautiful thoughts and desires dwell in the mind of our Lord.
The Gospel has made known to me that beautiful mystery of Joy and Peace the kind that to try and put them into words would do them a disservice. But more than anything the Gospel made it possible for me to know the One my heart ached for since birth and for that I am forever thankful.