When I was a little girl, nighttime shadows were large around me, and I imagined spirits and demons against the wall. Bible passages and revival meeting preachers had painted vivid pictures in my mind of the horrors of hell, and I was afraid of dying and going there. I did not know how to be a Christian, and I was afraid to ask. Lonely and terrified, I cried myself to sleep many nights.
And then one day I gathered courage. I talked to my mom and dad, and I did what they told me. I prayed and asked God to forgive my sins and take me to heaven when I died.
The fear was gone. And God was close–so close, that lying on my back on my bed I could have reached up and touched Him–but even that cannot describe His closeness. He was next to my heart. I felt that He loved me, and this surprised me. Puny Luci Miller, nine years old, inadequate, and fearful–and this God of the Universe loved me? The revelation changed my life.
I nursed that beginning of a relationship like a tender young seedling in my heart. As I got older, my desires grew and changed, and my understanding of life deepened. But I could not forget the startling reality of my nine-year-old revelation–that the God of the Universe loved me. I never again feared going to hell.
That abandoned child’s fear was replaced by a new fear, gentler, but more potent–I wanted nothing to damage this tender seedling of love, nothing to come between me and this Startling Person I had glimpsed. It was all I really wanted: to know this Person better. He allured and called me–the words were gentle, but they pierced me.
When I was a young woman of twenty-two, I dedicated my life to Him in a public service. Trembling, joyful, reckless, I prayed these words: I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord. I’ll do what you want me to do. I’ll say what you want me to say, dear Lord. I’ll be what you want me to be.
With all my heart, I meant every word.
But time moves on, and I move with it. I have not stood unwavering in that holy and dedicated spot. Rather, it is the opposite. In the five years since I made that promise, I have gone through intense periods of questioning God. I have felt anger towards Him. I have felt my faith rocked by doubt until I could only hold onto the sides of the boat and pray I would not sink.
I do not know why this is, unless it is that Satan hates my prayer of dedication as much as I love it.
Trying to understand myself, I look for the root of the doubts. These are my conclusions:
1. In the intervening years since that prayer, I have become far more connected to the world outside my small Christian community. Internet is a huge connector. Work, and the people and lifestyles I come into contact with there, is another. I read widely and am influenced by the books and articles that I read. But the most powerful of my connectors are the friendships I have formed, the real admiration and love I have conceived for people who make no profession of Christianity and may even oppose it. Real, flesh-and-blood people will always be more effective than disembodied words.
2. Whatever fuels it, the real source of my doubt comes from within. The doubts are vague and all-encompassing. When I examine them, they have no basis in anything solid or reasonable–and yet, they have the power to sway me to my depth. I wonder why this is, and have concluded that the doubts are not fed from an outside source, but from some faithless corner of my heart. The reasons for my doubt have changed many times–but it does not really matter what the reasons are. Any reason, however groundless, would have the capability to cause me to stop and reconsider my faith. This doubt is a part of my fallen nature. It is my rebellion, my blindness, my self-thinking pride, my inability to comprehend God.
3. I am gullible. I tend to believe what people tell me. When people tell me conflicting things, I have a problem. Enough said.
4. Hell is still my biggest problem. I no longer fear it, but I grapple with the idea of it. This Biblical concept of a lost humanity headed toward a doomed eternity is the one part of my faith I do not like.
5. I have felt myself ashamed of my faith. I have been told I am narrow-minded, non-intellectual, old fashioned. These things sting.
I wish that the Bible teachings would be less harsh, less single-minded, more pleasing to other people. I wish that there weren’t found in its pages such an inflexibility of right and wrong. I wish that I could read the Bible, and reading it, still happily believe that everyone, regardless of belief system or moral choice, is headed for the same happy hunting ground. It would be more pleasant. So much easier. No offense involved.
I look with envy at these other people, the ones who have no bulky Bible beliefs to weigh them down. It would be nice, I think, to be “normal,” like them. Nice to live without this deep sense of responsibility toward humanity. Nice to live in the moment, with no thought of eternity. Nice to live without the obligation of sharing my faith. It would be pleasant to align myself with the “in” crowd, to choose my own beliefs and make them acceptable, intellectual, and easy. How fun it would be, I tell myself, to be able to live that way.
And the writing that is so important to me. Too bad the only thing I am really passionate about is Jesus. It would be easier to write about something else.
But who am I kidding?
If I didn’t have Jesus stuck in my head, my life wouldn’t be easier. It would only be lonelier. Someone once said to me, “We are all lonely,” and I thought, “but I’m not.” Sometimes I have felt alienated and vastly different from other people, but at times like this, I talk to God and know that He understands me in a way no one else can. His hands formed me, and He is my Friend. I am never lonely, because He is with me.
Maybe, if I didn’t have Jesus, I could choose easier beliefs, but it’s more likely that I wouldn’t know what to believe. Believing all things, I would end by believing nothing.
Maybe, if He wasn’t stuck in my head, I could write books that were popular and acceptable. But I think I would not. I think I would still be a scared little girl lying in a bed and unable to handle my world. Jesus is my passion and my courage. He makes my life worth living. He gives me something to write about.
Maybe, if I didn’t have Jesus, I would be free from this burdening responsibility towards humanity. But I would also have to live without this deep love for people that I know comes from Him. I would have to live without the words He speaks to me in the early mornings, live without the joy that fulfills my longings, live without His love that is close as a wedding band around my heart.
I would give up everything, every home, every friend, every dream, in order to keep this one friendship with Jesus that began when I was a scared, nine-year-old girl.
Jesus told a little story about a field one time. I know exactly what He meant by it:
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hid in a field; which when a man has found, he hides, and for joy of it, goes and sells all that he has and buys that one field.
This is me. It doesn’t matter how the doubts rock me, and how vicious they are. In the end, I must come to Jesus. He is my everything. He is my field.
***
I wrote and published this post almost five years ago, in June of 2014. The article was since republished in Daughter’s of Promise, an Anabaptist women’s magazine, and then in a new book, Homuspun, a collection of stories and articles by Amish and Mennonite women. It’s good for me to go back and read what I’ve written before. I was brave back then, I think, and honest–and there is a certain innocence I wonder if I’ve lost. I understand some things a great deal better than I did then, but other things–like my passionate dedication to Jesus–I’m glad to be reminded of. May He still be my passion in 2019 and the next year and the next and the next.
I LOVE THIS…and to be honest,
(even though I love your writing) this encouraged me more than anything else :)
So glad this encouraged you, Linda. Good to hear from you.
Lucinda, I felt this same way when I redicated my life back to Christ and became a plain, conservative Christian. I wondered if I lost my mind. I wanted everyone to go to heaven as long as they were sweet lovely people.
I didn’t want the convictions I had because I felt old-fashioned and almost prudish. This was back in 2006 and I’ve grown up spiritually since then. I was actually in my 40s back then and I’m still holding on to my beliefs. I may look like a weirdo in my church and husbands probably tell their wives never to dress like me but that’s okay.
Bless you, Regina. It takes a lot of courage to change, and especially when you’re older. I’m glad you understand my feelings.
Luci, thank you so much for sharing this honest and inspiring post!
Prayers for a blessed New Year!
Sarah Fetterman :)
Thank you, Sarah. So good to hear from you. A blessed New Year to you and J and the two little J’s. :)
Lucy, this is beautiful, powerful, n touching. I have thought many similar things but haven’t put it into words like this. Thanks for sharing. Jesus is worth everything!
Yes, He is. Thank you, Karen.
If it wasn’t for Jesus… I love Him so much! We need to go back to Him…. Always….Sometimes I think our traditions draw us away from Him.
I don’t think our traditions draw us away. I think our hearts draw us away, chasing after other things, and then our traditions distract us, make us think we still have something valuable when we have only empty shell. But still those traditions are there. They help us remember, and that is the purpose of them. Communion, baptism, washing feet, wearing a covering–all meaningless without a heart commitment, but all in place to help us remember and to make the Word an action Word in our lives.
Thank you for your honesty and vulnerability, it is comforting to know we do not wrestle alone. I too at times do not know how to be a Christian or what that means. I can ask and study, though in Christendom there are so many views and definitions. Beyond the dangerous self-centric ground of ‘my’ Jesus, yet it is personal. Is a simple, practical faith illusory? I am 44 years old, I made a beginning in middle school. Often since then thinking it would be nice to be “normal” To lack accountability, responsibility, perhaps non-committal. Though the Lord is relentless in His pursuit of us. I have ran, I have hid. He has always come near, bridged the gap, rolled away the stone and called me out of the grave. His grace has always been more than sufficient, never short of amazing! Often I think I should have done this or that. Sometimes I remember, today I will not should on myself. Yes, God works mysteriously, but God works. I know He works all things for good, my life in Him, my wife, my children, our friendship. Emmanuel, God with us. Happy New Year!
Yes, Amen to God’s mysterious and wonderful work. And happy New Year to you and your wife and your little girls! I know a simple, practical faith is not illusory because I have seen it in action. It can’t be pinned down to a certain action or people group, but it is real and beautiful. It has something to do with simplicity, I think–cutting out the unnecessary and choosing what is real. Choosing trust and obedience over the complex wanderings of our own mind.
So…this is not the point of your post. :) But your first few paragraphs got me thinking. I can so well identify with those nine-year old fears of hell (and of the Lord’s return and I wouldn’t be ready to go and would be left behind and people up in heaven would look down and wonder why I’m in hell. Okay, nine year olds (and younger children) should not be terrified of these things. Even though I made a commitment to Jesus when I was 8, I was still terrified of His sometimes. And I look around ….and wonder if children today in our churchea are as terrified as I was, or if they have a safe place to talk about their fears. I certainly hope they do. Is there something we can do to help out sensitive children feel safer? Just thinking……
That is a very good question. I don’t like fear mongering. What do you think would be a good help and safeguard for children?
I don’t know that I have definite answers. But I most certainly have ideas. I think if parents can work at understanding their children, be “tuned in” when the oversensitive one is bothered, and do what it takes to provide a safe place for that child (whether that is talking about the fears or unwanted thoughts or giving a hug, etc) that would be HUGE! I think if children have a place where they know they are safe, this will be key in dealing with fears. I am not a parent, but it is my hope that the children I interact with know that I love them, care about them…and that they are safe when they are with me. Make sense?
This is one of my favorite of your writings. I’m glad you reposted it to remind me again of the truth that I would choose Jesus over everything.
Gina
Thank you for this post. I too remember the fear I had as a child of hell,dying, being left behind. and then after receiving Jesus, knowing the peace. I like your parents suggestion. May you feel His presence throughout the coming year!
Thank you for reposting this. Those doubts and questions are so familiar, and yet it’s so good to be reminded of the treasure we have.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I could definitely connect with what you wrote, especially 3 and 4. In the past few years I have grappled with doubts more than I ever had before, and those are two of the biggest ones I wrestle with. My heart cannot come to terms with millions of people in a hellish eternity, yet…. it’s there. Why?! And almost without fail, whenever I hear a different opinions on a theological or religious argument, doubt rises up to strangle. Thank you for sharing and being honest.
Such a beautiful testimony. Thank you Luci!