A few days ago I shared how I initially became a Christian. It was very largely an intellectual journey - because, if I hadn't found objective truth, I would never have given my life to a figment of the imagination. But there was more to it, too: people.
My boss, with whom I enjoyed the daily God vs. no God debate, quickly became a friend because we had so much in common. At the gospel concert where I first visited her church she introduced me to her home group leader (the guy I bluntly asked if he actually, seriously believed "all this stuff") and he invited me to the home group. And I went because I liked him and I liked my boss friend, and because a number of other people I met that evening seemed rather likeable too.
They would study the Bible at that group. I had never read more than the tiniest snippets of it, and at that point, I didn't believe it either (it took months of research before I got there, and throughout that time I was attending this weekly group and asking awkward questions)... but I kept coming back. Why? Because of the people. They were likeable, sure, but much more impactful to me was that they would share deeply on those Wednesday nights - they felt safe enough around each other to be really vulnerable about their issues, as well as encouraging each other.
Perhaps it's important here to mention that I was a pretty broken human being. I was functioning in the outside, and functioning well; but my growing up years had left me a shell of a person. When my mother died when I was 15 - and my relationship with her, while desperately loving her, was complicated - it felt like I no longer had a reason to live. My family was aware of this, having found the stash of my mother's sleeping pills that I had built up to use in case she didn't survive (no one ever mentioned it but when I finally got back to our home after my mother's death in hospital, after which I was taken to my aunt's house for a week, my stash was gone) and I was never, not once, left alone in the house until my aunt's death when I was 18. In those three years between my mother's and my aunt's death, every person, interest and thing that had been dear to me was, bit by bit, taken away. My aunt slowly but surely choked out every activity I enjoyed, such as horse riding, removed me from my friends by changing my school, and clipped away any and every freedom I had once had.
When she died, I was 18 and technically free - but by then, I had internalised that the only way to be free and to not get hurt, was to not care. By that time, there was no person, no issue, no interest that mattered to me; not even my own life. I didn't actively try to end it any more, but had a bus hit me I wouldn't have minded.
That's where I was at when I met this group. Their caring love for one another hit me hard, and over time as I was hearing their deep sharing I began to wonder... well maybe just faintly hope that my heart could be able to care again one day. Perhaps.
After months of research I committed to following this historical Jesus - he was real, which meant I had a choice of ignoring truth and going with my preferences, or following truth even when I didn't particularly like it. (It hurt my pride, really, as a staunch atheist previously)
Chris & Starla, my home group leaders, did a lot of the initial work - basically just walking alongside me as I began to learn what the Bible teaches, and kindly opening their home each week for way longer than home group was meant to go on for, to discuss all sorts of issues until deep into the night. But there was very little time.
After that summer in Vienna, I went back to Durham to finish my business degree; I did find a church to attend but never felt the warmth and depth of relationship there that I'd had in Vienna. When I got back, I found a job and tried to be ok with staying there - somehow, with God... but my faith wasn't mature enough yet.
I had been desperate to get out of Austria since my mother's death. Living at my aunt's, unable to end my life, the only thought that had kept me sane was that I would move as far away as I could, as soon as possible. My target became America. I tailored my entire education towards being able to move there.... and six months after my return to Vienna, the opportunity came and I grabbed it with both hands.
I was going to New York.
God just had to tag along, I wasn't asking him what he wanted for me - I needed to go, and that was that.
Part 3 to follow... this is getting long!
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| Chris & Starla's home group, 2002 |
My boss, with whom I enjoyed the daily God vs. no God debate, quickly became a friend because we had so much in common. At the gospel concert where I first visited her church she introduced me to her home group leader (the guy I bluntly asked if he actually, seriously believed "all this stuff") and he invited me to the home group. And I went because I liked him and I liked my boss friend, and because a number of other people I met that evening seemed rather likeable too.
They would study the Bible at that group. I had never read more than the tiniest snippets of it, and at that point, I didn't believe it either (it took months of research before I got there, and throughout that time I was attending this weekly group and asking awkward questions)... but I kept coming back. Why? Because of the people. They were likeable, sure, but much more impactful to me was that they would share deeply on those Wednesday nights - they felt safe enough around each other to be really vulnerable about their issues, as well as encouraging each other.
Perhaps it's important here to mention that I was a pretty broken human being. I was functioning in the outside, and functioning well; but my growing up years had left me a shell of a person. When my mother died when I was 15 - and my relationship with her, while desperately loving her, was complicated - it felt like I no longer had a reason to live. My family was aware of this, having found the stash of my mother's sleeping pills that I had built up to use in case she didn't survive (no one ever mentioned it but when I finally got back to our home after my mother's death in hospital, after which I was taken to my aunt's house for a week, my stash was gone) and I was never, not once, left alone in the house until my aunt's death when I was 18. In those three years between my mother's and my aunt's death, every person, interest and thing that had been dear to me was, bit by bit, taken away. My aunt slowly but surely choked out every activity I enjoyed, such as horse riding, removed me from my friends by changing my school, and clipped away any and every freedom I had once had.
When she died, I was 18 and technically free - but by then, I had internalised that the only way to be free and to not get hurt, was to not care. By that time, there was no person, no issue, no interest that mattered to me; not even my own life. I didn't actively try to end it any more, but had a bus hit me I wouldn't have minded.
That's where I was at when I met this group. Their caring love for one another hit me hard, and over time as I was hearing their deep sharing I began to wonder... well maybe just faintly hope that my heart could be able to care again one day. Perhaps.
After months of research I committed to following this historical Jesus - he was real, which meant I had a choice of ignoring truth and going with my preferences, or following truth even when I didn't particularly like it. (It hurt my pride, really, as a staunch atheist previously)
Chris & Starla, my home group leaders, did a lot of the initial work - basically just walking alongside me as I began to learn what the Bible teaches, and kindly opening their home each week for way longer than home group was meant to go on for, to discuss all sorts of issues until deep into the night. But there was very little time.
After that summer in Vienna, I went back to Durham to finish my business degree; I did find a church to attend but never felt the warmth and depth of relationship there that I'd had in Vienna. When I got back, I found a job and tried to be ok with staying there - somehow, with God... but my faith wasn't mature enough yet.
I had been desperate to get out of Austria since my mother's death. Living at my aunt's, unable to end my life, the only thought that had kept me sane was that I would move as far away as I could, as soon as possible. My target became America. I tailored my entire education towards being able to move there.... and six months after my return to Vienna, the opportunity came and I grabbed it with both hands.
I was going to New York.
God just had to tag along, I wasn't asking him what he wanted for me - I needed to go, and that was that.
Part 3 to follow... this is getting long!
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