bringing God back

I grew up in a religious family, attending church every Sunday morning and saying a prayer before every meal and at bedtime every night. I learned the most popular bible verses and could recite the Lord’s prayer by the time I was seven. And I even went through a time period in my preadolescence when religious activities were the essence of my existence. Friendships were based on a common belief in God. Weekend excursions were opportunities to serve God and share in fellowship with those around me. But by the time I was in high school, my beliefs had begun to fade to the background and I found myself lost in a maze of confusion and doubts and rebellion. My parents still insisted I go to church every Sunday, but my appropriate church attire was quickly replaced with bohemian skirts and combat boots. I took the liberty of engaging in fantasies throughout the sermons and wrote dark poetry on the backs of bulletins. When I moved away from home to attend college at the age of 17, I was relieved to be able to make my own decisions about church and God. The problem resided in the fact that I didn’t know how to make my own decisions and consequently lived an internal battle of guilt and pleasure. With the exception of holidays at home with my family, I stopped going to church. In fact, I didn’t go to church for the next four to five years. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God during those years. My belief has always been there; it was just hidden deep inside, an inconspicuous fragment of a life from which I was running away. Even when I would get a momentary burst of inspiration and periodically arrive at a random church on Sunday morning, I still did not feel the depth of what I was searching for in the realm of spirituality. I never stopped praying; prayer was the one aspect of my faith to which I clung through all the years. But prayer was not enough, and somewhere deep inside, I knew that. I’ve never been the type of person to believe that people must attend church in order to be a good Christian. I still do not ascribe to those “rules”. However, spirituality is essentially the essence of life and love and goodness. And so, as I continued my lost wanderings down paths of destruction and ambivalence, I realized somewhere along the way that the void inside, the intrusive negativity, the utter misery, were all simply manifestations of a life without God as my center.

It’s hard to explain the change I have begun to witness within myself over the past week. It’s strange to think that in such a short time period, my beliefs and values and whole perspective on life have been reevaluated and clarified so intensely. I could tell you the story of a conversation that set the process in motion. I could tell you how I’ve witnessed the pure goodness of humanity and how I’ve been reminded of the importance of love and faith. I could tell you how I felt as I sat in a church for the first time in years this past Sunday. I could tell you how the tears of awe welled and then fell with an overwhelming sense of internal peace. But telling you these stories, telling you about these moments, could never truly explain the transitions occurring within my spirit. What I can tell you is this…the sun is shining brighter than ever, the beauty of the world is greeting me in each moment, and for the first time in a very long time, I have faith that I am exactly who and where I am meant to be.