Cinq ans plus tard

I have had three conversations already today about my story. 

I find it actually quite bizarre, really. As I sit here (and let me now set the scene because it's quite peculiar to me) with two nectarine pips to the side of my computer, my Facebook messenger dinging with updates from a conversation with a new friend, my left leg extended from my chair as my heel rests on a skateboard, rhythmically wheeling back and forth, and a number of tabs on my internet browser that probably need my attention right now, I'm kind of flabbergasted by the importance of today.

Friday the 13th of November, 2020.

You see, the last Friday the 13th of November was 5 years ago. And 5 years ago, out of nowhere, I decided to become a Christian.

I've written this story or shared it a fair few times, but as I revisit it in my mind today, I'm in awe of just. how. darn. much. God. has. showed. up. for. me. He even sticks around when I use single word sentences to emphasise a literary version of clapping between words because I refuse to use emojis on this here blog.

Perhaps what has most stuck with me is a moment earlier today when one such friend mentioned something I said in a podcast last week. 

"You mentioned that you 'flipped my middle finger at my faith community and decided to journey in a different direction'... I'm curious... what was your biggest method for numbing your pain during that time? And how did that time last?"

That question, albeit a good one, struck me as difficult to answer. I would say now, and even back then when I had this sudden moment of recognising the realness and the importance of God in my life, that it wasn't as though I had hit rock bottom. It wasn't as though I was in pain or deep hurt and conceived to need God. I didn't magic Him up as a crotch for my human struggles.

I really didn't want Him around at all, at least not in the way that He showed up. I had, earlier that year, spoken with my partner at the time of who I envisioned God to be. Good, kind, but not expecting anything of me. I wasn't a Christian. For years I hadn't been. You could say that I was more pantheistic. I definitely believed the Universe was doing some sneaky business on me now and then, but mostly pushing things always in my favour. I ultimately didn't believe that a creator - my creator - should have any say on how I live my life. It was my life, after all.

I think that's what makes my story a little different. I am one of those people that didn't go searching for God at all. I still have no way to put it other than God audibly spoke to me. God, whoever He is, spoke to me... and then pointed me directly to the Christian Bible. And He pointed me there because it gave clear indications of what was going to happen in the coming years, and what had been transpiring thousands of years prior. 

Here's the thing: I didn't see anything about my life that was bad. I loved it. I was in England, I had a beautiful man that I was in love with, I had great friendships, my writing was being recognised in the UK and back home, I was drifting easily through my law degree, and enjoying the nomadic nature of me flourishing beyond belief. There was nothing that made me go "I am numbing the pain" or "I've been living a lie.

The only lie I had been living was the lie that I could experience the best life this life offers without God in it, as it has gained the richest meaning and clarity since He forward rolled into my heart that Friday the 13th.

There was no logical reason for me to give up everything I did, at least not from the perspective of the world and everyone in my life. It was, perhaps, the seemingly dumbest thing I've ever done. And I knew it. If this God wasn't real, and if this Bible wasn't true and reliable, then I was making a huuuuuge mistake. 

So what did I do? I got mad. I was grumpy. I was sad. I was confused. 

And yet I was also determined. Determined to look deep into this question of whether this book, valued and at the same time spat upon for thousands of years by all sorts of people, was the ridgy didge legitimate "word of God." I looked at arguments and counter-arguments. I listened and read through explorations and expositions of prophecy. I didn't want to relinquish what I had because to me it was so. darn. good.

When I put my fear and pride aside just for one moment to consider the idea that maybe, if this world was created, the creator actually cares about how I live my life, it was then I was truly open to truth. Whether or not that was the truth, it was irrelevant. The real cincher was that I must be willing to accept anything that is truth to be so. Where that would take me was a whole other story.

Has life gotten easier since I accepted the person of Jesus into my life? Haha. NO.

Has it become exceedingly more beautiful, awe-inspiring and meaningful? YES.

Have I grieved a lot over the last five years? Absolutely.

Do I continue to surrender, bit by bit, the remnants (who am I kidding... the big chunks) of ego and pride resisting true liberty? For sure.

My story is a story of a conversion that is impractical, uncomfortable, and did not arise out of my own desire for a God or someone to save me from misery. In fact, initially I was plunged into misery. But then I kept swimming. 

And here I am.

Hello. My name is Ruth.

Still silly, still jovial, still fun. Still quirky and undefinable. 

Yet ever more aware of an endless love that is poured out over me daily.

That same love is for you, too.