Out of the Grey

In two days I'll celebrate one year of walking with God.  I feel embarrassed that it's only been one year.  I was raised in the Seventh Day Adventist church from birth until age 17 and then did a stint in a radically fundamentalist (and otherwise very strange) church in New York for most of college and a few years after, so you would think I'd have some kind of track record in the faith by this point.  But I don't.  Those were not years of knowing God  but rather knowing about God.  I look back and see how He was trying to break through to me... through loving, compassionate people, through music.  I can remember moments of genuine Spiritual insight and perhaps a tingling of His presence, but it seems His gentle voice was consistently engulfed and drowned out by lists of things to do, people watching my every move, and the weekly schedule of services, meetings, and requirements.  I left the church and God  in May of 2003, and "walked in the grey" for eight long years.



On May 15th, 2011, I gave the life that God had given me back to Him.
And the life I gave to Him, He has changed from the inside out.

Before I write about walking with the Lord, I have to say the following... Those years of walking in the grey were not without worth.  I have a real disdain for Christians who speak as though life without Jesus is without value and unworthy of their respect.  People are making sense of their worlds, facing their fears, and trying their best - every day.  Contrary to what many Christians of the more judgmental variety believe, people are attempting to live their lives with dignity, honor, and hope.  That is worthy of respect.  It's worthy of celebration.  These are the tracks and chapters of the human heart.  And this journey, apart from God, was a chapter in my life as well. 

I explored myself during that time; I considered my roots and habits.  I finally had the space in my life and, more importantly in my mind, to figure out what I thought about some things.  I read parts of the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, and other ancient texts.  I grieved the death of my mother without "Christians" telling me how to do it.  I was allowed to be angry, sad, depressed, anxious, and all the other completely normal emotions associated with grief without someone telling me that my emotional roller coaster meant I wasn't "trusting in God."  It was a time of freedom.  And also chains.

I was a relationship addict.  A failure to effectively bond with my father left a vacuum in my heart that I attempted to fill with romantic feelings.  I married, divorced, and landed myself in some dangerous and pathetic situations.  Not only could I not see my way out of the prison I'd built and maintained, I couldn't see the prison itself.  I just kept running my head into steel bars, wondering why I had such a terrible headache...

So were those years difficult?  Yes.  Were they fun at times?  Yes.  Were there moments of breathless magic?  Yes.  Did I form friendships that have stuck closer than family?  Absolutely.  I learned a great deal and grew as a result of it.  I explored, doubted, questioned, and challenged.  I survived crises and came out of them resilient and eager for tomorrow.  But all the good times, deep thoughts, and self-revelations still brought me to my knees.  It was a revelation of God from God Himself that put all that "insight" into perspective; compared to knowing Him, it was all grey.

Then May 15th of last year...

I cannot honestly say that this past year has been easier than before.  In some ways it has, and in some ways it's been much harder.  All I can say with certainty is that I haven't walked alone.  I don't think I was alone for those eight years either, but I didn't acknowledge the God walking alongside me.  He simply walked next to me, speaking gently but constantly in many ways, wincing when I hurt myself, aching when I cried, holding His arms open to me while I wrestled alone.  Steadfast in truth, I wasn't ready to accept it yet.  What's been different in this past year is that when I cry, I run to His arms.  When I laugh, He laughs with me.  I'm frankly learning to hurt myself (and others) a lot less often!  When I wrestle, I'm often wrestling with Him, and His Spirit sustains me during and afterward.  When it's over I'm not spent, depressed, hopeless and pulling myself up with the last drop of strength I have.  I'm renewed, revived, covered, drenched, and drowning in His grace and acceptance.

I believe God honors those years in the grey.  I know I do.  They are chapters in my life, pages in my heart.  And a God who would die to bring my heart close to His would not disown parts of it.  God doesn't edit.  He renews.  There's a difference.

At our one year celebration, I believe Jesus would listen to me tell my story and raise a glass of (really good) wine and say,

"Here's to my girl, Vanessa.  She's out of the grey.  She's home."

"Here's to another year, Jesus.  You are the Love of my life."

(clink!)

P.S. Thank you to BW, CR, CN, and LD for walking with me this year.  You are all "God with skin on."