Читать книгу Breaking Through the Clouds - Dannie Gregg - Страница 6

Growing up in a loving home, I never questioned what was right or wrong, but I never really had a basis for establishing right and wrong other than what my parents told me. I knew that I needed to do what I was told, but I had no spiritual basis for determining what I should do when I got older. It’s not that I never went to church; it’s just that we did it so little growing up that I never learned why people go to church. We went to my grandmother’s church a couple of times, but all I could really remember from there was that the service was so long and the people were so old.

So when we got settled into our new home, before Cotton was born, I found it very odd that I started feeling so unsettled by the fact that we didn’t go to church. My home was exactly what I wanted and I loved my husband and sons very much, but there was always something missing. Being newly married and new homeowners brought with it some discussions, arguments, and even fights about money, life, and love. We struggled to express ourselves to each other and even to know why such a little thing could turn into such a major fight.

The uneasiness that we felt seemed to be a constant in our lives and it seemed like I couldn’t do anything right. I thought maybe the reason why I felt the need for a church was because it could help get my life in order. I had in my mind a picture of what church people looked like. I thought that maybe I could be around some of these people and their goodness could rub off on me somehow. I thought that if I could see how they lived, I might be able to live life like they did. Then, the arguments would stop. Then, maybe, I would feel complete.

I thought that the act of going to church could help us to be more of a family. I thought that maybe we might be able to be a part of a group of people who could help us be more together and at least look like we knew what we were doing, now that we were married. It might be that I was confused as to what a church really was, but I knew they had something I wanted.

So, we decided to go church shopping.

I say, “shopping” because that’s what I thought. We’ll take a look at a church, and if we don’t like it, we’ll go to a different one the next week. It’ll be like shoe shopping and I love shoe shopping!

Jordan and I had gone to his grandmother’s church a couple of times, but that was more to keep her company than it was about being at church. To be honest, I didn’t even know how I felt about wanting to go to church because I had no intention on sitting in a church and learning about how many times a week I was screwing up my life by not obeying the rules. Even though I wanted to be in the church and learn from what the church had to offer, I didn’t want to sit close enough to these perfect Christians that they could see how much my life was messed up. But the more I pushed the thought away, the stronger it became.

Jordan took the lead in the shopping, which I was unusually grateful for, and took all my church goals in mind as he picked our first church. My church list was a lot like my house list. The requests I had were:

•It had to be a smaller church

•We would only go for the morning service

•That service could only be one hour

•It had to be close to the house

I wanted to go to church; I didn’t want to live there. I wanted as much of the church life as I could get without having to put much of myself into the process. I didn’t really want my church attendance to change how I acted, or what I did; I really just wanted to improve the lives we already had.

Taking all my requests to heart, Jordan located a few churches in the nearby town of Ropesville. It was the closest town to our house, so it made sense that it was where we started looking, but the surprising thing was, for a town of a little over four hundred people, there were a lot of churches and they each had their own names. I didn’t really question that I wanted to go to a Christian church, but I had no idea what “flavor” of church I wanted.

The thought of choosing the wrong church scared me even more than the idea of walking into a church in the first place. As my mind raced through all the possibilities that were ahead of us that morning, I almost gave up hope. But then I looked over at Jordan, and he was as calm as he could be.

“How can you be calm at a time like this?” I thought. My heart was pumping out of my chest and my mind raced with more fear and anxiety than I had ever had.

Almost at that exact moment, we turned into a parking lot and I read the sign for the first time, First Baptist Church. I immediately wondered what kind of crazy Baptist weirdoes were waiting on the other side of that wall, but we got out of the car anyway.

As we pulled Cason and Colt out of their car seats, I reminded Jordan several times, “If this church isn’t any good, we’re going somewhere else next week.” And he reassured me just as many times that we could do exactly that.

As we walked up to the front door, I became nervous that we had shown up too early. There were only seven or eight cars in the parking lot that morning and I feared that if we were too early, we would be asked a ton of questions about how perfect we were and I knew I didn’t have the answers they wanted to hear.

I felt my nerves shake and thoughts flooded my mind: “Great, I have to sit with all these prefect people. I hope I can fool them so they think we are perfect people too. What if I know someone? What if they find out who I really am and what I have really done? Gosh, and preachers scare me the most. The worst part of church is listening to preachers get up and talk and yell and talk some more.”

I tried to remember why I wanted to be there in the first place, but I was already there, so I just lowered my head and muscled through. As we found our way to the sanctuary, every one of the fifteen or so people in the building immediately came to greet us and hug us. I was surprised that they all hugged us and I couldn’t decide whether or not I should stand there and enjoy the genuine love that I was feeling or run for my life.

Just as I was about to turn for the door, the preacher walked up and introduced himself as Brother Jimmy. I couldn’t even look at him. I was so nervous and I knew he must have been able to see what a wreck my life was because preachers don’t usually greet visitors at the beginning of the service. But he simply shook our hands and said he was so happy we were joining them.

Thankfully, the service was about to start so everyone left us alone and we found a seat. As the service went on, I was most impressed by the preacher. While the songs were being sung, he walked around and shook hands and hugged people.

I had never seen anything like this from a preacher especially during the church service. Most preachers were the kinds of people who never smiled, never acted like they were happy to see people, and usually had a way of telling you how bad of a person you were with every sentence that came off their lips. So to see this guy sincerely excited to see each person in attendance was startling.

Then it came time for him to give his sermon.

“Here we go. Now we’ll see his true colors come out,” I thought.

But yet again, I was shocked by what I saw. My nerves shuddered at first because I just knew he was aware of how much of a mess I was and how much I didn’t belong in this place, but as he spoke my heart was drawn to what he said instead of being pushed away. I didn’t even really understand all that he had to say, but I knew that I had never really heard it put like that before. I was hanging on every word he said and forgot to be scared for a few moments.

He never got behind the podium and you could tell that this wasn’t just another talk. He didn’t point his finger and yell at the crowd. In fact, I have never seen anyone preach this way. He stood by the front pews and helped us feel comfortable. He made the sermon interesting, funny, and kept my attention throughout the sermon. I felt the words come out of this preacher’s mouth and shoot straight to my heart. Sometimes, I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but I just had this feeling that I wanted to hear more, to know more.

When the service ended, I actually felt a little sad because I wasn’t done enjoying the moment. I knew one of my requests for church was that it would only take an hour to get through, but I would have stayed longer just to get to experience more of that place.

As we made our way to the door, Brother Jimmy came to us to make sure we filled out a visitor sheet so he could pray for us and maybe come by to visit.

I had a hard time waiting until we exited the building to see what Jordan had been thinking this whole time. He just sat there with little visible indication of how he felt other than a near constant grin on his face. When we finally got into the car, I asked Jordan what he thought.

He said, “I think we will try that place again next week.”

I was extremely excited about his answer.

A few days later, Brother Jimmy called to set up an appointment to come see us. To make a good impression, I made sure my house was spotless. I hoped this would help us to fit in.

The whole time I worked on the house, I was conflicted about trying to get myself cleaned up to see the pastor.

“Did I really have to do all this? Didn’t he have to accept me however I was?” My mind raced the whole day and I was a little on edge by the time he showed up.

As I let him in, feelings of worry, shame, and fear came rushing back to my mind. “What am I supposed to say to this man? Or not say? Will he yell at me because I don’t know anything about God? How stupid will I look since I don’t know anything? Will he be disappointed? What if he is a cult leader and fills our heads full of crazy mumbo jumbo? I never even looked up what Baptist meant!”

We sat down at the table and Brother Jimmy asked a few questions about our lives, our church experience and expectations, and what we thought about Jesus. I didn’t know much about churches or God so I was scared to even say the name of Jesus out loud. It was weird and uncomfortable to say the name Jesus, but Brother Jimmy is talking about Jesus and saying His name as if it was going out of style!

“What a weirdo!” I thought.

Until that point in my life, I had never met anyone who loved to talk about Jesus as much as this man. He had such a passion for the story and had such a gift at sharing the truth about my need for a Savior. I never felt bad. I never felt judged. I only felt that this Jesus had a plan for me and had made a way for me to escape the sadness and brokenness of my past.

As Brother Jimmy explained what it was to be saved, I didn’t quite understand everything, but I had no trouble believing that it was true. It kind of helped me understand why I had that feeling of needing a church in the first place. It was hard to believe everything he said about Jesus and how Jesus loved us, even died for us, but I knew that if I was going to be saved, this was the only way it could happen. I realized that the only way that I was going to be healed from all the hurt that I had experienced and even inflicted on myself was to accept this Jesus and believe in the One who sent Him.

Jesus said to him,

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life.

No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

I didn’t need a new set of clothes; I didn’t need to get new habits; I didn’t even need a church. I needed Jesus. I had heard that all my life, but never knew what it really meant. So, I decided it was time I found out what it all meant.

That night, I asked Jesus to be the Lord of my life and Jordan did too. It was at this moment that our house became a home and that our church became our family. We had never experienced the kind of freedom that we had in Christ Jesus. I didn’t have to pretend anymore; I didn’t have to act like I was perfect; and I didn’t have to morph into the Pine-Sol Lady anytime our church family was on their way over. I was free!

After we prayed, which was very weird and uncomfortable too, Brother Jimmy said, “So, when is the best time to baptize you guys?”

I thought, “Isn’t that where you get dunked in water in front of everyone? This guy is crazy to think I am going to get in front of people to show them that at twenty-three years old, I haven’t been baptized.”

Fear of what other people would think of me rushed back in and I was about to blurt out, “That’s for kids to do, not me!” But Jordan jumped in and set a date. I gave him a look like, “ARE YOU CRAZY!?!” He just grinned at me as if he knew what I had been thinking.

I hoped we would be able to be baptized without anyone really finding out about it, but as soon as our families found out that we were going to be baptized, they all came to watch. And even though I was extremely nervous to go through with it, the date was set, the family showed up, so into the water we went.

The feeling of the water rushing over my face then falling off was so amazing. It was the physical feeling of a new start. A feeling of hope. I came to realize why it was such a big deal. It was our new start to something wonderful. That day, I vowed to live this Christian life and walk with God like Brother Jimmy had taught us. The best part was, he wasn’t just teaching us, he was also showing us by how he lived.

He lived this life and so did the rest of the church. They loved us and we loved them. We started to catch a glimpse of how valuable a church family really was and how important they can be to our lives. They began to show us that we didn’t just choose Jesus; we also chose His church. We would need this church soon, and the fact that we fell in love so quickly only goes to show us that God was looking out for our future.