a very good place to start

Before I repost some of my other favorite pieces, it makes sense to first retell the story of how this journey as The Jesus Gypsy began. It is, quite frankly, my very favorite story to tell anyway (I am a sucker for good love and redemption stories, and this one is both.) 😉 Plus, I believe that when we dare to share our failures and let our true selves be seen, it gives redemption an opportunity to shine. 

When we tell our stories, we tell the story of  the gospel. So may I share my mess with you?  May I share my story?  Good.  Then, per the chipper wisdom of Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, “Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start…”

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As a young woman in my mid-twenties, I should have been living out the most amazing years of my life.  Instead, because of much heartbreak and hardship, I found myself lost and all alone in the big city of Chicago.

I brought it upon myself, of course.  A myriad of poor decisions had fated me to that place; that cold city and time in my life.  My college boyfriend was from there, and despite all the obvious warning signs that the relationship was unhealthy and destined for failure, I packed up my entire life in Texas drove myself across the country right after graduating.  Rather predictably and within less than a year of my arrival, we came to our inevitable and dramatic end.  I was suddenly all alone in that windy city but stayed there anyway. I was searching for something; probably myself.

I told myself I was strong and independent and could make the best out of a bad situation. And to some extent, I was and I did. But I also coped the best way I knew how, the way I always had.  I partied a lot, hung out with “friends” who were nothing more than drinking buddies, and moved from one “relationship” to another, always subconsciously selecting men that would use me or could be used by me, depending on my mood. I knew only how to take or be taken from. 

I was very successful in my career and out every night in one of the greatest cities on earth, but I was desperately lonely.  I begin to notice that ache and wondered how to fill it, but I couldn’t think of where to start.  I had no real friends, no close family, and no foundation of faith.  I was plenty busy but I was also plenty empty.

But then in 2002, my longing for Texas and warmer weather became too much and I began to plan my exit strategy.  I talked to my employers and we negotiated an agreement that if I would complete the current development project I was on, I could move back to Texas with a nice big bonus in hand. So I began to hire and train like crazy, even bringing on a few folks I didn’t particularly care for, just to get the job done. I was ready for a change.

One of these people was Celina. She was one of those adorably happy people (which was grating).  And she pranced around with a little bit of a holier-than-thou attitude – all full of sunshine and answers for life (you know the type).  Finally, one day, when her chirpiness had pierced through my last petty nerve, I told her I didn’t like the way she walked around with her nose in the air acting like she was better than everyone else.  And even though my accusation was a product of my own insecurity, I will never forget her surprising response.  She looked at me and said, “Really?  Wow – that’s terrible.  I better go home and think about that.”  And she must have because she came back the next day and surprised me even more in saying, “I went home last night and thought about what you said.  I also prayed about it and talked to my husband.  And I would like to thank you for pointing that out to me because who you described is not who I want to be.  I am going to be working on that.” Um… what?!?!?!  That certainly got my attention.  I was fascinated by her happiness and humility.

Then, as luck– or GOD  – would have it, Celina and I had to work together a lot after that.  Especially on Sundays- several in a row, in fact.  And on those Sundays, she would prance into the office in her little cute church dress with her big happy smile and her Bible, and I. Would. Hate. Her.  And during the slow periods, she would get that Bible out and read and study… and I would sit across the office and glare at her through my  hangover. Then one day she looked up at me and asked me, “How about you, Christine?  Do you have a relationship with God?”  And I clearly remember my answer to her. I said, “God doesn’t want any part of me.” I was certain that if God was real, we probably wouldn’t like each other much. 

But Celina surprised me yet again and said, “Honey, if He wanted me, He wants you.  Trust me on that.” And then she began to share her story.  She began to tell me who she was before she found God, in quite vivid and raunchy detail.  She described a life of drugs and sex and sin that made me look like a saint (an incredibly challenging thing to do).  And all the while, I sat astounded.  And my heart began to think that maybe, just maybe, God might want me after all. Then she began to share who she had been becoming since she gave her life over to him.  And I began to listen. 

See, I had tried a few churches over the years but had always been fearful of them, finding the people within their walls judgmental and hypocritical (with only a few rare exceptions). So I knew who Jesus was and I knew He had died on the cross.  Someone had even thought to tell me that it was my fault and I was a sinner.  But no one told me that He CHOSE to do it.  And no one told me that He did so out of mercy so deep and love so profound that I could never truly fathom it.  No one told me that the whole purpose of it all was so that He could offer me redemption and forgiveness, should I choose to accept it.  And no one told me that faith wasn’t all about rules I could never keep or religion I could never live up to.  It was about relationship. I had never been told that by having a personal and intimate relationship with God, I could finally experience the love and peace and joy and acceptance I had been searching for all my life. I was finding out who God really was.

So over the next few weeks, Celina and I would chat a little bit and she would give me things to read and I would come back and argue. I would ask impossible questions but then we would go through the Bible together and try to answer them.  I liked what I was learning, but when I thought back to some of the choices I had made over the years, I still held a deep-seated fear that I had wandered too far from good to ever be accepted by God.  Then one day she asked me again, “How about you, Christine?  Would you like to have a relationship with this God you are learning about?” So I told her how I felt – like I didn’t think I could ever find my way back to goodness. I felt like I was a million sin-miles away from God.

And she said, “Well, let me take the pressure off . YOU don’t have to find your way back to anything.  Christine, He will come to you.”   She then told me the greatest love story that had ever been told; the story of a loving Father who adores his children so much that He sent Jesus to come and share the message of his love with us and to reconcile us to him once again. She went on to explain that we are all broken and messy and undeserving of the love of God, but that God wasn’t sitting up in some big palace waiting for people to get their crap together and only then allowing them to come to him and grovel at his feet. He was right there with us, right that very second, and that if I wanted to know him, all I had to do was to turn my heart to him through Jesus and ask.  I could just admit I was broken and a mess… I could just tell him that I wanted him in my life and needed his forgiveness…  and He would give it freely.

So right then and right there… we got down on our knees together.  And on the floor of my office in Chicago – that great big cold city where I had found myself so lonely and so lost – I gave my life to Christ. I became a new person; I became His.

∞

I have been a Christian for about 17 years now and it has been a bit of a tough journey for me.  I have insisted on learning my “Jesus lessons” the same way I learned all my life lessons; the hard way.  But when I get to tell my story, I tell it with a grateful heart and as a very different person than I was back then.  I am not perfect, but I am whole.

I have to admit that for the first few years after becoming a Christian, I kept waiting to discover the catch or to find that the shine could wear off of the Jesus thing. I even immersed myself deeply into studying scripture because I really wanted to vet this whole redemption thing out. But as it turns out, it is all true. I still can scarcely believe it.

Someone asked me once if I wished I could go back and undo all those decisions and mistakes I made before I came to Christ. The answer to that is no.   Don’t get me wrong, I hate some of the things I did “B.C.”  And I hate how I hurt others, hurt myself, and no doubt grieved the heart of God.  But all of that gave me my story.  All of that gave me this love for Christ that still, all these years later, keeps me so in AWE of him.  And all of that made Romans 8:38-39 a living breathing scripture for me.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

My hope and prayer is that by telling my story, I can offer a tiny glimpse of the goodness of God. He offers mercy and grace and a measure of love that we could never possibly deserve or comprehend, and He does it all through Jesus. He is pursuing us all, even in our brokenness, even now. And if you are wondering if He can love even you, allow me to tell you what Celina told me all those years ago, “Honey, if He wanted me, He wants you.  Trust me on that.”

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