Naive

There are times when I wonder who I would have been had I not been protected.  In Bible College, I joined a choir which toured the northeast states.  During each performance, our choir director would randomly invite several students to share their testimonies.  We never knew who he would call on.  I wasn’t ashamed of my faith, but I was definitely nervous to speak in front of a crowd.  Some of my classmates had dramatic and extended testimonies filled with backsliding and debauchery.  In contrast, my testimony was boring.  My parents were missionaries in France.  My mom led me in the sinner’s prayer when I was four or five years old.  That was it.  I didn’t sleep around.  I wasn’t into drugs.  I didn’t smoke.  In fact, I didn’t swear and I never touched alcohol until I was out of college (and rarely at that).  I was squeaky clean.

The bottom line is - I was seriously sheltered.  I went to a Christian school K-12.  Throughout middle school and high school, I attended a youth group called “Evidence.”  I still remember belting out “Our God is an Awesome God” while the worship leader hammered away on his DX7 keyboard.  I was sold out for Jesus.  My faith was central to everything.  I even wrote Christian rap songs and promised God I would only rap for Him if I ever became famous.  I couldn’t imagine being anything but a Christian.

My parents played a huge role in the development of my convictions.  They read their Bibles every day.  My mom loved the Psalms.  Her favorite hymn was “This is my Father’s World.”  My dad was often in his art room, slaving away at a new Christian themed painting or calligraphy.  He was on a constant mission to witness through his artwork and often asked for prayers that God would “direct the brushstrokes of his hands.”  I was inundated with the idea of “using my gifts for God.”  I was surrounded by Christians.  Apart from my parents, I had a number of positive influences - a band teacher who took the time to listen to my rap songs, an English teacher who encouraged me to write original poetry and a track and cross-country coach who challenged me in my walk with Jesus.

Yet another world existed outside of my perfect Christian greenhouse - yet I was clueless.  Multiple scandals in the Christian school and church I attended (completely unrelated to the mentors I mentioned above, for whom I still have great respect).  Schoolmates drinking, getting high and having sex.  And most shocking of all, my dad wasn’t the person I thought he was.  I’m not sure what he was into exactly.  Yet looking back, there are so many oddities which didn’t add up.  I never questioned any of this.  I trusted my dad - and when you trust someone, you overlook the weird stuff.

What if I had known what was really going on?  Would I be the same person today?  I imagine I would be pretty screwed up - yet who but God can say what a person would become given a different set of life circumstances?  Was I simply imitating what I saw in my parents and mentors?  Would I have still imitated them if I knew back then what I know now?  Was I brainwashed into believing the Bible?  Did I simply buy into the idea that Jesus was the only way to Heaven…or did I know deep in my heart that this was the truth?  Did I choose Jesus - naively following in the footsteps of those I looked up to - or did Jesus in some way choose me?  

I believe the Bible (although there are parts I don’t understand).  I’m thoroughly convinced that Jesus is the only way to heaven.  Yet I also believe God’s ways of leading a person to that conclusion is as distinct as the sands on the seashore.  For me, it took a greenhouse and a hellhole.  God did protect me for a reason.  He planted the seeds, watered them, all the while knowing the fragile flowers of my heart would first best flourish in the bubble.  All along, He was preparing me for the nightmare.  He was the same God regardless of my surroundings or my disposition.

It’s still a mystery to me how God can use the ugly things of this world to glorify Himself.  People choose sin, yet so often like a boomerang, God’s truth and conviction transcend the lies, hypocrisy, scandals and scars.  Christianity is like a train station covered in colorful and obscene graffiti.   It’s overrun by criminals and varmints.   Yet the train keeps running, carrying people from darkness to light.  Christians are broken people…and I’m one of them.  That’s the whole point of the cross.  My faith must always be built on Jesus, His forgiveness and nothing else.  

There are still so many questions.  But I can look back and see how God has used so many bad things for good.  The fire came and went (and will come again).  The rafters fell and the beams collapsed.  Through the journey, I’ve learned that the truth is inextinguishable and will forever stand even if spoken by fallen heroes.