Soul Capsule

On my bookshelf is a photo box labeled "memories". These are things which I have determined to remember. Below is a narrative of my spiritual life that I wrote in Autumn 2005. Names have been changed except where noted.


When I met God:
I thought it was when I was 7 and asked Jesus into my heart in Sunday School. And I do have a few childhood memories of reading the Bible (Psalms specifically) and making up songs with the words. Or once when I was 8, I felt like God spoke to me through a verse in Proverbs. I was angry with my parents for not letting me get my ears pierced, and the verse shut me up. 8:1 "Children honor your father's commands and obey your mothers teachings." I remember crying at that moment. The connection with God was more important than the ears.


When I became a Christian:
The youth group was doing a popular study on sexual purity called True Love Waits. The emotionally charged evening led me, and several of my friends to pray with a youth sponsor. We all prayed the same thing: to rededicate our lives to Christ. I was 12 at the time. That period of my life was spend in an entirely Christian world. Youth group and Christian school were my only communities. I took an interest in being right. In understanding the lessons, in making connections with the verses. And in singing loud harmonies to praise songs. (I loved getting compliments on my voice.) I was the conscience, rather the preachy, self-righteous, goody-two-shoes of my Christian middle school. I was always proud to tell them what was right, and that they weren't. I'm not proud of it anymore. When high school rolled around I started going to public school. A missionary to bring hope to the lost! Or an alien set loose on the natives. I attended prayer circle in the morning, Bible club on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the annual stand for Jesus: See You At The Pole. Around that time, my parents decided to quit attending organized church. They went to other Christian meetings where they discussed the community of Christ and rethought commonly accepted teachings. I went with them a few times but did not separate from church. I stayed for social reasons.


When I began a relationship with Christ:
My sophomore year of high school found me listening to Christian rock, due to the influence of my older sister. I had started attending the concerts that a local youth group put on. I often bought t-shirts from touring bands. The day I really began a relationship with Christ, he pointed a few things out to me. One, that if I preferred wearing band t-shirts and jeans, why did I bother with the preppy name brands and khaki shorts? Good question, Jesus. Also, why did I waste 2 hours per day straightening out the perfectly good curls he'd given me? It struck me then, that I was made by God, and for God. That year I taught Bible study during lunch at school with my friend Brittany. Only recently recognizing Jesus as an active figure in my life, I was amazed at real-life analogies. As well as the new revelations he gave me through the Bible, through others, through teachings, and overwhelmingly through music. Leading Bible study with Brittany soon became a cause of distress, as she wasn't ready to blunder into spiritually uncharted areas. At that point I was asking the Lord for a friend who would join me in my search for who he truly was. My prayer was soon answered as Lynn entered my life. She was quirky, liked the same music as me, and was already discovering God on her own. We hit it off immediately. We were very soon best friends. After spending the summer with Lynn garage-sailing, watching the Emperor's New Groove, making plastic bead bracelets, and talking about Jesus, I entered my junior year of high school weird as can be. I loved every moment of that year. Going to Christian concerts, praying at youth group, weirding classmates out with my incessant talk of Jesus and/or llamas. Within a year of that time, Lynn got a boyfriend: an atheistic, train-hopping punk. Because our friendship was Christ-centered, she had a hard time telling me about him and put it off for three months.


When I quit being a Christian:
When she did tell me, I was at an utter loss. I spent two months in depression. I couldn't understand why she didn't tell me about it earlier, and came to the conclusion that I was too religious. And that she feared my scolding. The validity of that conclusion is questionable, but I found no other answer at the time. I was hurt, and Christianity was not there for me. It told me she was unequally yoked, and falling into sin. And that I could not be a part of that. So I ended our friendship. I had quit going to church by this time. And Bible study at school, too. Although I was expected to lead that year, I declined. By that time I had found that Christianity had more to do with a morally standardized community than a life graced with God. I wanted to move on, with God, away from Christianity, away from pain, away from mediocrity. I started going to local shows, and quit going to Christian concerts. My senior year ended, I graduated high school not giving a damn about school, and summer rolled around. Lynn and I happened to be at the same show once, and we talked. It was good. We hadn't really seen each other for months. By that time I had let go of the hurt and filled my best-friend-shaped-hole with the local scene. That summer I moved to Dallas with my cousin and her family. I lived with her while watching her children. My first month there was terribly lonely. Through a chance hyperlink-clicking, I found my way to Deliverance Bible Church. It was exactly what I had been craving. A community of believers who were just as tattooed and black-clad as my favorite bands. The next four months were amazing.


When I met love:
One Sunday evening during service, Pastor Cleetus (yes, really) put forth the challenge to truly seek God, to press into him. He encouraged us to stand, and open our palms to receive something from God. He said he would count to 3 and then we would get it. He made it to 3 and I triumphantly said to myself "see!? counting is hokey and God doesn't do that." I then received the revelation that my pride was an obstacle in seeking God. I accepted the offer to go forward for additional prayer. At the front I waited, eyes closed. Soon a lady held my hands and began to pray for me. In that moment I heard the Lord speak to my heart. He told me that he loved me.


And the narrative stops there, in Autumn 2003. It does not go on to chart spiritual highs the following year in Europe. Nor spiritual lows in the months leading up to the narrative. I've decided not to retroactively extend it. It's like a little spiritual time capsule: me and my faith, ages 7-18. The value of it is this: because of my Christian upbringing, I had no way to interpret life except through a moral lens. What I love about life is that with every day I live, every little thing in nature that I notice, every song that makes me want to dance, and every person I bring into my heart, that lens is chipped away. And the less I wear the goofy morality goggles, the more I can see things for how they truly are.