Dearest Chris,

Where do I start?  Almost eleven years this month we have been together, first as friends, then as spouses.  It tickles me to no end to think on all those questions from our friends when we were “hanging out” – are you and Chris dating?  are you a couple?

“No, no, no…he’s not my type, just a great friend.”

I’m thrilled beyond words to know that after eleven years we are still great friends.

You are patient, you are kind.  Generous almost to a fault.  I love that about you.

I have never known you to be envious or proud.  Confident in what you do, but never proud.

You are not rude or self-seeking, you always are thinking of our children and me first and foremost.

You are not easily angered and I’m so thankful you keep no record book of all my faults and wrongs.  You certainly exhibit the love, grace, and mercy of Christ in all that you do.  What a wonderful example for our children.

You keep evil far from you, even to the potential ridicule of others in this world that is not our own.  I am always more thankful than words can express for the high standards that you hold yourself to.  I am blessed.

You protect us, you trust where trust is due but do not trust when it is in our best interest to protect us.  What a fine line to walk and what wisdom you carry.

Thank you for laughing with me, holding me when I cry, caring for me when migraine pain attacks, persevering with hope when I was so sick after the birth of our son (that requires a love letter all its own!), giving of yourself to others, being such a great home repair guru, and for being such a great daddy to our children.  To see them so excited when you walk in the door is a clear reminder that you are loved, cherished, and rock their world.  Heck, even the dog gets excited when you get home.

And so do I.

I love you.

For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her ²⁶ to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word.^{[b] 27} He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault. ²⁸ In the same way, husbands ought to love their wives as they love their own bodies. For a man who loves his wife actually shows love for himself. ²⁹ No one hates his own body but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church. ³⁰ And we are members of his body. -Ephesians 5:25-30

A few months before we were married...

A few months ago...

Continued from “Shoeless”…

I think the Holy Spirit whispered to me.

Shouted at me.

Hit me over the head, maybe?

I was sitting in that booth in Panera, sipping my tea from a real mug, reading Wild Choose Chase by Mark Batterson when I felt a spiritual thump.  These words crossed my eyes:

Earth’s crammed with Heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.  -Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Um, what was that again?

Earth’s crammed with Heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.  -Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I read it over one more time.  Just to be sure, you know.

Huh, interesting timing.  I pondered this in my head throughout the day.  Later that afternoon, I checked Facebook and Heather had posted the following in her status:

Earth’s crammed with Heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.  -Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Look familiar?  Yea, thought so.

Thump.

Ok, God, I’m listening.  I’m noticing.  I’m meditating.  What do You want me to do about it?

I continued reading Wild Goose Chase and the battering never stopped!

I think this is one of those stories in which the obvious can elude us.  The holy ground wasn’t the Promised Land.  It was right where Moses was standing.  Don’t wait to worship God till you get to the Promised Land;  you’ve got to worship along the way.  This is holy ground.  This is a holy moment.  Take off your sandals.

Why did God tell Moses to take off his sandals?  I think it was God’s way of saying “Be still and know that I am God.”  (Psalm 46:10)

Let’s not talk about the fact that Psalm 46:10 had been on my heart constantly for several weeks.  Next, I talked to my husband about what I had been reading and pondering.

Chris: Here’s another thought.  What do you do when you go into someone else’s house?

Me:  Um, make myself at home?  Or don’t touch?  (I am a mom of preschoolers after all…)

Chris: You take off your shoes and stay awhile.

Loved that.  Worship.  Holiness.  Holy Ground.  Be Still and Know.  Home.  Friend..

Fast forward to Sunday Morning…as I drove into the sunrise to soundcheck and rehearsal, this is what you would’ve heard if you were hearing my thoughts:

What if the people think I’m wierd for taking off my shoes?  Do my feet look decent enough?  How’s the toenail polish?  When should I take off my shoes?  Do I wear them onto the stage then slip them off or take them off in the green room?  Will anyone notice?  I don’t want them to think I have a “holier than thou” attitude.

Because it’s all about Me, you know.

Not me.

It was time for the worship service to begin.  We prayed together and headed on stage, my flip-flops flip-flopping all the way.  I heard and felt the slap of black leather on my feet.  I stepped behind the keyboard and plugged in my “in-ears” and made sure all my settings were correct on the keyboard and the music on the right page.

Then I slipped off my shoes.

It was surprisingly humbling.  Very humbling.

I felt the warm, rough carpet and the cold metal sustain pedal.  And I was reminded of who I serve, of Who my Master is and why I stand on that stage helping to lead in worship my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ with a talent that I am humbled and blessed beyond measure to have.  I serve Him alone.  I do not want to run away for this is not a Master to run from.  He is a Master I want to run to.

I want to take off my shoes and stay awhile.

⁵ “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”  -Exodus 3:5

My sandals were starting to become uncomfortable.  I slipped them off and pushed them to the side with my toes, further under the keyboard stand.  As I rehearsed the worship set for Sunday with the rest of the band, I kept feeling the stage carpet against my left foot and the ice-cold metal sustain pedal on the bottom of my right foot.

It wasn’t unusual for me to play in rehearsal with no shoes on – I’d done it before.  You know, if the feet hurt, the shoes come off.  Our worship pastor had even asked if I usually played with my shoes off because he’d seen some who do that because of personal convictions.  I shook my head no, not me.

As I played through songs that praised Him for his holiness (a contemporary arrangement of Holy, Holy, Holy for one), I began to ask that question that plagues all mothers of toddlers and preschoolers, “Why?”

Why did God ask Moses to take of his sandals?

If God granted the knowledge for shoes to be created, then why take them off?

Did it have more to do with Moses’ heart?

Did God want a proverbial barrier removed between Himself and Moses?

I wanted a deeper “why.”  I’ve come to learn that everything about God and Scripture involves so many beautiful layers and intricacies that boggle the mind.  Surely there had to be more?

So I posted my question on Facebook – that great repository of friends with knowledge and wisdom who might be willing to think this through with me.  Here are some of the amazing responses:

That’s an interesting question, Tara. When I think about things like this I look at the overall context of the verse within the rest of the chapter. And, even more importantly in some cases, the culture and/or society at the time. My guess, though I don’t know this, is that this could be a cultural thing. In places considered holy by the Jews it’s possible that they took their shoes off. So in this case, I believe (sorry don’t have a Bible in front of me for the conplete context) Moses is approaching the burning bush but doesn’t yet know it is God. So God tells him to remove his shoes because this is a holy place. That would be the clue to Moses that this burning bush is God.  -KSB

I have never thought of this, Tara. I like thinking this way though. This is how the great theological minds learn and gain new understanding of God. Praise Him that He allows us to question Him.

I have always just assumed it was an outward show of respect, to remove the dirt of the unholy ground before standing in God’s presence.  -H.T.

Totally not related to my comment above exactly but may provide some more insite, when my great-grandfather was buried my mother was pregnant with my sister. Because he was Jewish and buried in a Jewish cemetary my mother was not allowed into the actual cemetary (she stood outside) because she was carrying new life. I don’t know the basis of this belief, but basically the Jews believed that new life should not be within a place where there is death (i.e. the cemetary). Not having been raised Jewish I’m not totally familiar with all the beliefs, I just know bits and pieces. -KSB

Tara, I’m down with your no-barrier thought, but also, I think that since the shoes wade through all the muck and garbage so our feet don’t have to, that by removing them, you’re removing the filth in the presence of God. So maybe it’s symbolic of not only removing a barrier, but also acknowledging that there should be no filth, or sin, in His presence. Removing the filthy part is an attempt, however pathetic as we can’t remove anything on our own without his Holy hand, to purify oneself before Him. I definitely get the ‘don’t come any closer part,’ though, because to see Him clearly would be to spontaneously combust in pure awe! Not a pleasant end to the day, I would guess. Or possibly the best ending of all to see God and then find yourself in Heaven because your body couldn’t handle it!  -D.S.S

OK Tara, went digging in my “Dictionary of Biblical Imagery” and found some neat tidbits: wearing shoes signified freedom therefore going barefoot was a sign of slavery or of being beholden to another. Also bare feet symbolize one’s inner state, serving as an image of spiritual poverty- another reference to slavery. The last reason listed is simply for reverence. The only two times God requires the removal of shoes are for Moses and for Joshua when he was confirmed as the “new’ Moses. Only priests with ceremoniously washed feet could enter God’s presence and the men were most likely wearing sandals made of animal skins which would be difficult to cleanse….for people on stage now I think it’s more the spiritual poverty thing- it also feels strange and will help you remember just exactly why you’re playing/singing. Does that help at all?  -J.C.C.

I forgot to type the fact that slaves were kept barefoot so as to limit their chance of survival if they ever did escape. So going barefoot on purpose would be a very meaningful symbol of your heart’s desire. -J.C.C.

My husband thinks Facebook can be socially destructive, but in this case it was fantastic!  Many more commented how the information touched them as well.  See, God can work through Facebook, too.

A couple of days later, I am reading Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson and this quote  nearly jumped out and bit me…

Go here to read part 2 of Shoeless…

I was driving towards my Bible study group meeting last night and the view in front of me was similar to this photo.   Except for the mountains.  And all the green.  And the scenic winding road.  My scene was a four-lane highway, random buildings, and flat.  Lots and lots of flatness.

So really the rainbow is the only similarity.

I am always, always amazed at rainbows.  What an incredible result of the sun shining through droplets of water in the atmosphere.   How some people think this happens by chance is beyond me.  God’s handiwork is everywhere.

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. -Romans 1:20

The rainbow I saw was a complete rainbow and it felt like I was going to drive straight through, almost as if under its protection – the protection of God’s promises.

I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.  Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth. -Genesis 9:15-16

His sun, shining through the rain and the storm, to illuminate the sign of His promise to us.  His Son.  It always reminds that He is so faithful to me, even when I am perpetually not.  It reminds me that His promises will never fail.  It reminds that He is there on the stormy days to provide not only a light to show me the way, but an incredible manifestation of that light that only God could make.

Rainbows always bring me joy.

I have a distinct memory about a rainbow from high school, I believe.  I was at a gas station in a larger town near my home when someone pointed out to me the amazing double rainbow.  I passed on the word to someone else.  I noticed everyone at this large gas station/convenience was talking excitedly, with joy, about the amazing rainbow above us.

Then we all got in our cars and drove away.

For a moment, however, we shared the joy of colorful miracle of light on a stormy day, in awe at the work of God’s hands.  What a fraction of that ultimate joy we will have when we see Him again, with lights more amazing than rainbows even.  I, again, look forward to sharing that joy with others.

¹²I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands,¹³and among the lampstands was someone “like a son of man,”^[b]dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. ¹⁴His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. ¹⁵His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. ¹⁶In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.

¹⁷When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. ¹⁸I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades. – Revelation 1:12-18

ONE MORE TIME

Oh, this one just makes me laugh!  I must say this phrase at least one-hundred and twenty-seven times a day.  Even as I type this, the kids are in the sandbox and not doing their best at listening to instructions.  The words coming out of my mouth are, “If I have to tell you one more time…”

Maybe my kids should write this post.

One

I am glad we didn’t have just one child.  After we had G, we debated having another child for about a year.  Our great fear was going through postpartum depression again.  It was awful, enough to scare you from doing a lot of things ever again.  Including having children.  Especially having more children.

One weekend, we finally decided we were done.  We just could not do it.  We were happy with our family of four:  Chris, myself, G, and our dog.  Yup, happy.  My friend, Mindy, had just found out she was pregnant so I packed up all my pregnancy stuff for her.  They were coming for dinner and I’d hand it all over.  It seemed like a momentous moment in life.  Really, just one?  All done?

We told Mindy and Shawn, laughingly, that we were done having kids, we were happy with one, and handed over all my pregnancy paraphenelia.  That was Saturday night.  I relieved.  The decision was made.

God laughed.  You see, never tell God your plans  Your plans.  He is sovereign.  I am so glad.

The very next morning as I was getting ready for church, I dimly realized my period (sorry, men) was pretty late.  Wait, were my breasts still hurting?  Huh?  Nooooo……    I fumbled under the bathroom sink for a pregnancy test (infertility helps you stock up on these things).  I had one left.

No three minutes necessary.  It was instantly positive.  I didn’t read the instructions only one time.  Nope, I read them a hundred times.  As if I hadn’t read them a hundred times before.  Sheesh.  My breath left me and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

One more?  Really, Lord?  

I stumbled to the living room where Chris was entertaining G.  It was 6am.  ”Um, honey, I think I’m pregnant.”

“No way.  It’s got to be wrong.”

“Uh, nope, they aren’t typically wrong when they are positive.”

I still went to the 24-hour Walgreens and bought two more tests.  One more wasn’t enough.  I even bought the dummy-proof digital response that said “Yes” or “No.”  I didn’t trust myself to compare a plus or minus or circle or square or read directions a hundred times again.

Instantly positive.  Yup, we were having one more child.  One more pregnancy.  

I was terrified, excited, terrified, and in awe.  A surprise pregnancy after needing medical assistance to get pregnant the first time is quite an unusual feeling!  I didn’t feel so broken!

We are blessed beyond words to have our daughter S.  It wasn’t easy, but wow – her zest for life is contagious, her energy is enormous, and we are thrilled that God has better plans for us than we do.  

She is my one today.  

More

Nope, no more children.  In case you were wondering.  Snip, snip.  All done, with acknowledgment that God is the author of life and can even work past snip, snips.

Time

Time to grow.  I keep waiting for my kids to grow and for me to grow.  I keep thinking I’ll finally get something and I still need more time.  I’m so glad my God is so patient and faithful to me even when I am not.  I am glad for time, but time is also precious.  We don’t have as much time as we think we do.

To participate in Thursday Threesome, head on over to Wild Olive Shoot.  Fun stuff!

Chris and I first met at Finley Park in downtown Columbia, SC.  That is the first place I saw his face.  It was a summer concert series.  I was friends with his roommate and was there with him.   (No, I was not dating the roommate – I was fresh off of a break-up).

February 1999

Later, I was at their place waiting on the roommate so we could go to a movie or something.  I had an opportunity to sit and chat with Chris while Josh was getting ready.  Chris was talking about his mother and sister and I could tell he loved them very much and would do anything to take care of them.

I remember thinking, “Wow, whoever he marries is going to be a lucky girl.”

For my bouquet, the women in our families each had a flower and my dad laid it in my arms on a ribbon, which was tied up, all to form my wedding bouquet.

It wasn’t long before we became fast friends.  He’ll tell you that he felt sorry for me.  Most of my friends had graduated the previous year and moved.  Likely story, but I’ll take it.  

Thanksgiving rolled around.  We had been hanging out for a couple of months at that point.  People would ask each of us, “Are you two dating?”  I’d say, “Oh, no, I’d never date someone like Chris, he’s just not my type – but we’re good friends!”

(It’s ok to laugh.  God has such a sense of humor.)

Chris would respond in a typical guy-fashion, “Nah.”

Mike (brother), Nancy (mom), Tara (me), Jeff (dad), Jenny (sister); I am wearing the very same veil my mom wore in her wedding, attached to a new headpiece. A friend sewed in 23 crystals - I was 23 years old when I married.

Back to Thanksgiving.  I drove home to Kentucky (God’s Country, in my book).

I missed Chris.  Oh, no, you don’t get it.  I missed him.  What was wrong with me?  I called him and we talked on the phone every night during Thanksgiving break for at least a couple of hours at a time.  (He doesn’t do that trick anymore.  Apparently, he only does phone tricks like that when trying to woo women.  Ha!)

I drove back to South Carolina to begin Operation: BoyfriendChris.  I couldn’t wait to see him.   I called him with every excuse I could.

“Can you come listen to my pieces before I have to play for jury?”

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”  (Such a gentleman, he always paid!)

Amy (cousin), Lori (matron of honor), Jenny (sister/maid of honor), myself and Chris, Jason (cousin/ringbearer), Naomi (Chris's sister/best "woman"), Kevin (Naomi's husband, went home to Jesus 11/24/2002, our son is named for him), Mike (my brother)

We exchanged a flurry of emails.  He was so cute in them and signed them with roses that looked like this:

–<–<–@

(Why is it that romance like this has to be re-learned once the wedding band hits the finger?)

I still have all those emails.  I’m an electronic pack rat.

He would come get me and I would wait in anticipation for the deep rumble of his big white truck as it came around the corner.  We still have that truck.  Men aren’t sentimental about much, but don’t ask them to get rid of their big white trucks.

I’ll admit to a small amount of sentimentality for that truck, too.

(I could not find the pics of just Chris and his family at the wedding, my apologies! This will have to do.) My parents on the left, Jeff & Nancy, Chris and I, then Regina & Eugene. I always get tickled looking at how Regina has hold of Chris so tight in this pic and all the wedding pics. She loves her son!

After about a week of intense work to get him to notice that I liked him for morethanafriend because I’m too much of a chicken to be direct, he finally noticed.  I very nearly had to climb in his lap and kiss him.

Oh, wait, that’s just about what I did.

So that was the first week of December 1998.  By New Years Eve 1998, we had decided to get married.  I began planning the wedding without an “official” engagement.  

Super Bowl Sunday 1999.  Chris comes to visit me while I was monitoring rooms for a piano festival at the music school.  He was grinning like a cheshire cat, a certain ring burning a whole in his pocket.  We agreed he’d come to get me later that night so we could go to a Super Bowl party our church’s college ministry was hosting later that evening.

Apparently the ring burned right through his pocket and seered his leg.

He arrived at my apartment and here is how the proposal went.

Brace yourself.

Tissues ready?

He arrived and I was ready to go.  I turned out the lights to my bedroom and went to the door.  I greeted him, the same him who was grinning like a cheshire cat.  I realized I forgot my jacket and turned around to retrieve it from my now-darkened bedroom.  I picked it up off the chair or bed or something, and bumped into Chris.

“Oh!  Didn’t realize you followed me!”

“Here, I got something for you.”

He fishes the ring box out of his pocket.  Hands it to me and walks out.  

Whoa.  A ring!  We’re official!

But wait…

Isn’t a question supposed to accompany said ring?

I love him anyways.  I made him “ask” me in the truck, even though we were already “engaged.”  Some people thought we were crazy because we’d only been dating for a couple of months (little did they know we’d decided to get married a month previous!).   I say to that, ten years later, we’re still having a blast, we love being married and we look forward to a whole lot more.   Prescribed times for dating and/or engagements work for some, but not for us.  The question that came to our minds?

Why wait?

Thorncrown Chapel, near Eureka Springs, Arkansas where we spent our honeymoon. One of the most amazing chapels I have ever seen in my life. It was so beautiful and peaceful.

We were married four months after that “official” engagement on May 22, 1999.   Five months after the “unofficial engagement.”  Six months after we started dating. (Yes, we only dated a month before we were engaged to be married.) About eight months after we met.  

May 22, 2009 

Chris and I, taken in January 2009

So how do I move from believing there was one all-encompassing god to only One Way and One God?  What changed?  What happened?  You may be wondering and I’ll try my best to explain what the Holy Spirit did to my heart.

My God, the One True God, had changed my mind, my heart and my soul.   I no longer believed there was one god over all religions and belief systems of the world. 

John 14:6  Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me…”

I no longer believed you just had to be “good” to get to heaven.  I had learned, observed, and finally began to experience that relationship with Christ that cannot be found in the things of this world:  friends, the opposite sex, money, busy-ness, drugs, nature (when idolized as a god), jobs, media and Hollywood, etc.  

Romans 5:10-11 For since our friendship with God was restored by the death of his Son while we were still his enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of his Son.  So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God.

That hole in my heart had been filled.  That elusive thing I had been trying to put my finger was now firmly in my grasp.  This relationship could not be found in that sweat lodge.  There was not enough steam in the world that could cleanse me of any wrong-doing nor bring me any closer to the one Holy God.   There was not enough ceremony or “good things” I could do to bring me closer to Him either.  He was too Holy and I – too broken and dirty.  In fact, my efforts to even get closer to Him like that – prideful! 

Romans 11:6 And since it is through God’s kindness, then it is not by their good works. For in that case, God’s grace would not be what it really is—free and undeserved.

The stunning beauty of it all is that I came to the realization that what God’s Word said was so true – it was lived out in front of me in so many people.  I had seen Him change lives!  What better evidence could there be!  And if all those things were true and real, I had to either accept all of it or none of it.  His Word said that, His voice whispered it in my heart, that He loved me so much that in order to make me good enough to be in His presence in Heaven – because nothing I could ever do would – He had to do something extraordinary to make it happen.  And He wanted and strongly desired a relationship with me.  Was this all true?  

John 3:16-20 “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him. There is no judgment against anyone who believes in him. But anyone who does not believe in him has already been judged for not believing in God’s one and only Son. And the judgment is based on this fact: God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil. All who do evil hate the light and refuse to go near it for fear their sins will be exposed.”

Titus 2:14 He gave his life to free us from every kind of sin, to cleanse us, and to make us his very own people, totally committed to doing good deeds.

 He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, as the ultimate sacrifice at an “altar” to wash the yuck away, far away from me, to make me perfect in God’s eyes so that I could enjoy being in His most perfect, Holy and Pure Presence and to enjoy a relationship with God my Father, Jesus Christ His Son, and the Holy Spirit.

As I stated in the last post, I learned quickly that Christians are not perfect.  I had expected them to be.  I had seen hurt come from Christians.  I had been hurt by Christians.  We are not perfect.  We sinned.  We continue to sin – to mess up – in small ways and in big ways.  The relief that floods my heart is that Jesus Christ has forgiven me, effectively forgotten my sins, and just like He forgives me and continues to do so, I always forgive others on a daily basis.  When I mess up royally, and its often, I repent – I acknowledge I messed up, I ask for forgiveness, and I commit to doing better and the Holy Spirit in me helps and teaches me.  Imagine a marriage relationship – you mess up, your spouse is angry, you ask for forgivenes and an opportunity to do better.  And through the years you both grow in your relationship.  But imagine this on an unimaginable scale – that is how it is with God. 

The standards I live by?  How do I be “good” now?  The Bible, God’s Word, and the Holy Spirit guide me.  I do not expect those in the world who are not in a relationship with Jesus Christ to follow those standards and to understand why my convictions are so strong, because I know they do not have the Holy Spirit in them as I do.  So what about my efforts and beliefs about “being good” before?  Isn’t that still enough to get into heaven? 

I’m so sorry, but no.  God is a Holy and Pure and Sinless God.  To be in His Presence requires purity.  Could you ever get yourself clean enough?  Pure enough?  Could you ever act absolutely perfect?  To even begin to think you could is, quite bluntly, prideful – godlike, even?  Good does not equal perfect no matter how hard you try.  One more step is required – the act of a mediator, a sacrfice and a cleansing to remove all the impurities from your heart, your soul and your hands so that you can now no longer be separated from God.  Jesus Christ is that mediator, that bridge between the sinners and a most Holy God.

Good is not good enough.  Jesus Christ is Perfect and the Perfect Answer.  And He is my best friend.

And Heaven.  Oh my… I.  Can’t.  Wait.  And I do know for sure because I have a quiet confidence, a peace, a joy, excitement and the promise of Scripture – God’s Word.  See John 3:16 above.  We are promised eternal life when we put our trust in Him. 

I am thrilled that He was patient with me, protected me, guided me, even to places I did not think I wanted to go.  He let me argue, observe, and wait until the last possible moment.  But He never left me and He held me in His Hands when I thought it was all a hoax mere days later.  That is the One True God.  I cannot wait to be in His Presence in Heaven.

I hope to see you there, with all my heart.

*The God of My Story never ends, as my life with Him and my testimony never ends.  But for now, this is enough.  I’ll add more later.  To see how God worked in our lives during my journey through postpartum depression, please see the tab/page link above for more information. 

Have you ever been hurt by people claiming to be Christians?  Have you ever thought the church to be hypocritical?  Have you ever scoffed at those people who claim to be so righteous but who seem to be just as bad as the rest of the world?   

Oh, yea, I’ve been there.  Sometimes even today, I still wonder and still encounter some very interesting people.  But I also remember that we are all still sinners. 

Romans 5:8 But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

We still mess up and have junk in our lives, but He can and does help us with that, for we are still growing in our relationship with Him.

But I learned the hard way about this and nearly walked away from it all, this precious new relationship, only days after surrendering my life to Him.

The following Sunday, after I prayed my first sincere prayer to Jesus Christ, I arrived at church eager and excited to share with my church (not just my place of employment any longer) of my news!  I headed to the organ to set up and to plan how I would play the service and L met me quietly in the hallway with a look of worry on her face.

Uh-oh.

“Tara,” she whispered, “something is going on this morning, just play the prelude and, I’m sorry, but you cannot ‘walk forward’ at the end of the service.”  (Traditionally, “walking forward” in some churches basically means getting up at the end of the service to publicly share with the church of your decision to accept Christ as your Savior, baptism follows at the next baptism service.)

I blinked.  “Ok.”  This wasn’t good.

As service time neared, I began the organ prelude and watched as the church members began filling the pews, then I watched, nervously, as the pastor’s entire immediate and extended family filed in and filled the front pew in front of my organ. 

My heart sank.

It brings tears to my eyes to even think about it and my heart hurts to dwell on it too much, so I’ll say it quickly.  After the prelude ended, I believe a deacon or the music minister stood up and said something then the pastor read his letter of leave of absence due to serious allegations of misconduct.  (No need to share details on a public blog.)

Tears filled my eyes.  The service ended mere minutes later and I was relieved to go home without having to play another note.  This was a well-loved church and pastor in the community.  I  loved them, too.  What…?  I drove home to my apartment in shock and sat in the silence and cried and just waited for my roommate, T, to come home from her church.  Thoughts battled in my mind…

These supposed Christians act like this?!  What hypocrites and liars!  Do you really want to be a part of them if this is what they do to each other?  This cannot be happening!  What do I do now, Lord?  I feel all alone.  Forget all of it, forget the decision you made and just move on – these Christians are all bogus anyways, just like the rest of the world!  What wants to be a part of them anyways?  Is this what the church is like?  Who needs church and religion…I could just do it on my own…no, just forget about it…

Just.  Hang.  On. 

T arrived home finally and cried with me and comforted me.  What a Godly woman she was to me.  God surrounded me, in His great wisdom, with so many who could walk me down a right path during a time that was causing me great doubt and conflict.

But it was not over yet.

Either that same Sunday or the following Sunday, the pastor of another church in town who had been at his church for over 20 years resigned after admitting to an affair.  Doubts fueled a new fire in my mind again.  Unbelievable.  In the weeks ahead, more would happen in the situation regarding my pastor at the church I attended and worked for.  A dear friend, N, would make time, even at personal cost to herself, to be sure I did not hear anything from hurtful sources, but would instead come to me quickly and privately to explain and pray with me and encourage me as I processed this especially in my new walk with Christ.

God had His Hand of protection on me always, helping me to grow and to trust, working through those around me.  One of my required classes for graduation was a Religion in Life class.  Our text book?  Henry Blackaby’s Experiencing God.  Wow, did I experience Him that term!  I learned a lot and saw lives changed through that class as well.  Dr. T was incredible.

Do you see?  I was right where God wanted me – in that college-I-had-rejected-but-now-loved.

I never spoke with or saw that pastor or his wife again, but they hold a special place in my heart.  I learned so much from them, more than words can quantify.  The following spring, when things settled down somewhat at church, I was able to publicly tell the church about the decision I had made that previous fall.  They rejoiced with me, and then I was baptized on Easter Sunday by an interim pastor at the evening service.  What a precious memory that is to me even to this day. 

Through these experiences, I learned that Christians are not perfect.  Oh, so imperfect.  But through it all my God is ever true and always faithful, never changing.  That I can trust.  And are there hypocrites?  Sure.  Because we try and we fail and we try again. 

Romans 7:15, 17 -20  For I do not understand my own actions… For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.  So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.  For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.

Hebrews 12:1  Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

And we keep trying, with the Holy Spirit’s help.  We are forgiven, loved, and have the Holy Spirit to help us grow.   The church is made up of people who have a relationship with Jesus Christ and Jesus Christ loves His church!  However, all the people in church are sinners, too,  messing up all the time – and that includes those hypocrites that we need to forgive, and then we can ask the Holy Spirit how to handle those relationships.  But do not let them keep you from church. 

Are you really going to let a few hypocrites and sinners, just like you and me, get in the way of an incredible life-changing and life-saving relationship with the One and Only, Jesus Christ?  Do not give them the credit they do not deserve and do not let them have that power over you.

But what about that one-god-over-all-religions thing?  What happened to that?  Being good?  And heaven?  Did I know for sure now?

Oh, yea…

…to be continued…

Relationship.  What does that mean?  Surrender.  No way I’m surrendering to anybody.  But…  Relationship.  I wanted to be loved, valued, cherished, protected, and adored, too! 

But just saying the words does not get you there.  You cannot just say the words at a marriage ceremony then walk away.  You work on the relationship, you commit to life with that person. 

Relationship.  My heart was craving something I could not put my finger on.  Some of the people around me, whom I observed, had something special that I wanted.  Some of the people around me said that they had something special that I could have, too, but what they demonstrated seemed so hurtful at times.  Why would I want that kind of relationship?  I didn’t get it…  Aren’t Christians supposed to be kind and loving and friendly?

I was confused.  But still seeking, watching, and God knew.  He put me right where I could not get away from it.  A job.  At a church.  

I am often asked how I could have gotten a job at a church without being a Christian.  Easy.  Organists were and still are in short supply.  The roommate I mentioned in part one?  She was the staff pianist there and we knew we worked well together.   Was she praying for me?  Probably.  I’ll have to ask her…

For almost two years, I played two services each Sunday.  It was an old Hammond organ, and challenging to say the least when you are really just a classical pianist, but I had fun regardless.  The pastor and his wife were so kind and friendly, I’ll never forget them.  She led the college Sunday school class.  And his sermons – gosh, I still remember them.  Those are memorable sermons when you remember them over ten years later.   The music minister and his wife – so precious.  They call us even now if they pass through town. 

I watched, I observed, I learned.  I soaked  it in.   The walls were coming down stone by stone…pride by miserable pride…

The fall of my senior year.  November.  Late November, I believe.  The church was hosting a revival service and it was a Wednesday night.  I shattered, I could hold up my resistance no longer.

I wanted a relationship with Jesus.  I wanted Him to be mine.  I wanted to be certain of my future, and certain of forgiveness when I messed up (sinned).  I wanted to surrender my all to Him.  Was I giving up my freedom to Him?  Yes and no!  It was a joyous surrender and a joyous freedom that words cannot explain. 

I knew.

With tears in my eyes and unsure of what to do next, I grabbed my former roommate, L, and told her to please come to my apartment when she was finished because I needed to speak with her.

She knew. 

Somehow I knew that it would be my last chance to accept this relationship, to circle “yes” on this proverbial slip of paper.  Somehow I knew it was a Life or Death moment, with the weight of eternity in the balance for me.  It felt Heavy.  I had never felt anything like it before.  I knew I had a choice, to say no and reject Him – again – yet, I also knew that this time I would run full-fledged into His arms like a child.  My pride had fractured into a thousand pieces and I wanted this relationship more than life itself.  (Little did I know how many years later, it would also save my physical life, literally.)

L arrived and I hiccuped through my tears and we prayed together, something like this…

“Father God, please forgive me of my sins!  I believe you died on the cross for me and my sins and rose from the dead to be my Savior.  I want to have a relationship with you and I want you to live in me and my heart as my Lord and Savior!  Amen!”

The burden was gone.  Gone!  I felt humbled, relieved, happy…did I mention humbled?  But in a good way.  The Holy Spirit, as a result of my surrendering myself to a joyous relationship with Christ, was now a permanent resident of my heart.  I had help for living!  Help!  I was no longer ever alone.  A peace unlike any I have ever known filled me.  Joy unexplainable. 

L took me to our pastor’s home to discuss my decision and to pray together.  We would make my decision known to the church as a whole the following Sunday.  (This is joyous news to share, you do not hide your “light”!)

The following Sunday(s) did not turn out as expected.  In fact, it threatened to shatter my new-found faith.  But God knew way before I did and already had His hand of protection on me and the Holy Spirit in me to comfort me.   Friends were already in place to guide me down a rocky road when I was ready to reject it all so quickly…

…to be continued…

It was so hot in the little lodge that I felt like I could hardly draw a breath.  Sweat Lodge, indeed.  This was more like a let’s-suck-every-bit-of-moisture-out-of-you-then-some-more-while-you-try-to-pray-and-have-a-spiritual-experience lodge.  More water was poured onto the hot rocks in the pit in the center and steamed gushed upward and around us.  I was encouraged to lean down to the edge of the lodge wall and breathe in fresh air before I passed out.  Cool, sweet air…oh, what relief…

This was a way to get closer to God?  The Great Spirit?  ‘Cause it sure is hot in here!

We could only walk in one direction around the fire outside and upon entering the lodge and around the pit inside.  I do not remember everything, but I remember being worried about the details.  Would I get it right?  Would I do a part of the ceremony or actions wrong and anger someone or something?  But I’ll do my best; my dad is here and he’ll help me.  I want to try, I want a spiritual experience.

The people we met who participated in these ceremonies were so friendly and caring, seemingly unlike some of the hypocrites we had met before.   They were so in tune with the world and nature – so why couldn’t it be a perfect match with the God I had grown up with?  He created the world in seven days, we had learned.  Surely, this was the same god?  These people are so good!  How can they not get into heaven, too?  And who am I to say whether or not they will get into heaven, really?  How dare someone say for sure whether or not I was getting into heaven! 

Thoughts like these dominated my mind as I grew from high school into college.  You know, that stage in life where you have no idea who you are or what you believe in and are trying to figure it out.

I continued to compromise my morals and ethics and beliefs in my own mind, but God had His Hand on me the entire time.  Whether I was in questionable or potentially dangerous situations with men, drugs, alcohol, driving (not much to do when you live in the sticks), or what-not, I was always protected somehow.  To this day, I give my God and Savior the glory for that.  Truly amazing.  I will even say unashamedly and unabashedly that I was a virgin on my wedding day.  And that was indeed God’s protection.  I’ll probably never know how much, but I have an idea.  I never tried the drugs either – it was amazingly easy to say no and let them get over it.  I was a poster-child for the Just Say No campaign!

God’s protection there also?  Absolutely.  Look for the hindsight, people, it’s there in your life, too.  You’re reading this, aren’t you?  Perhaps He’s prompting you to look…

I held my own quiet rebellion as I headed off to that Baptist-college-I-rejected-but-God-chose.  I dressed a little differently than everyone else.  (If you know me personally and see me on a regular basis, I am sure that is hard to believe.)  My freshman year composition class I insisted on writing two papers about tattoos and the Bible.  Oh, my sweet professor, I just loved her.  What patience she had!  (She admitted I proved my thesis well.  That makes me grin even now.)  Then I would do things like help circulate a petition against the school cafeteria because the food was horrendous and they charged way too much money for it.  (I was easily let off the required meal plan the next year.  Hmm…wonder why?) 

The quiet rebellion became more permanent.  The weekend before heading back to school for my sophomore year, my mom went with me to get a tattoo.  It doesn’t get much more permanent then that.

Yes, I have a tattoo.  It’s of an angel holding a rose with a moon in the background.  I was fascinated with angels at the time.

Yes, it hurt.  But, I usually forget I even have it.  (My kids call it a “pretty picture.”)

But throughout this quiet rebellion, and my arguing and my challenging of all the Baptist-ness and Christian-ese around me, Jesus Christ was planting seeds.  There was a concert one night at the large Baptist church near campus and I was invited to go along with several of the other students and new friends.  It was a Christian group, sharing the message of salvation.  (I think they are a popular group now.)  I do not recall the words, but I remember being strongly affected.  As we walked back to the campus that night, I was so glad it was dark so no one could see my tears. 

I just wasn’t ready for surrender yet.  Pride, so much pride.

There was another event later that year – Tony Campolo if I recall correctly.  I wasn’t particularly fond of his style of communication, but at the “invitation” to surrender your life to Christ someone next to me wanted to go down to pray and asked me if I wanted to go as well.  I said, “Sure!”  I prayed the prayer of salvation, and apparently that was it.  I was saved!

Um, ok…not so much.  Pride again. 

I had only said the words.   Oh, how many times had I said the words over and over and over again over the years!  But I had not surrendered to truly letting Christ into my heart and my life, letting Him take over and walking into the freedom of a relationship with Him!  I would not know the difference for another three years. 

Oh yes, I continued to argue.  And challenge.  And observe.  And question.  And take it all in.

Then I got a job as a part-time staff organist at a Baptist church near the campus. 

God has a sense of humor with me, remember?

…to be continued…