Fall 1998

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).

 

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.”

 

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.”

 

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!)

 

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.

 

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?

 

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 

God of My Story, Growing Up

(…continued from God of My Story, Part 6…)

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. 

God of My Story

(…continued from God of My Story, Part 5…)

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…

God of My Story

(…continued from God of My Story, Part 4…)

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…

God of My Story

(…continued from God of My Story, Part 3…)

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…

God of My Story