Y'know, a lot of my posts are calls to action. Through my writing, it seems like I never just stop and reflect on how awesome Jesus is, I just try and spur myself to believe something that I need to believe. I'll say this--without the Cross, without Jesus, no matter how powerful my writing or language or whatever may be, none of it is ever going to mean anything. Ever.
I'm thankful, very thankful to the Lord for those "aha" moments, but really, there's times in our lives when we don't need "aha" moments from God, we just need to reflect on what we already know of the Lord: the simple yet beautiful fact that He sent His son, Jesus, to die on the Cross for a world of undeserving sinners like you and me.
I was saved when I was 7 years old, that is, I professed that Jesus was the son of God and that he died on the cross for my sins. However, at that age, even though I went forth for Baptism a year later, I wasn't "in love" with Jesus. Jesus was just someone I kinda knew, but didn't know or trust enough to really follow him, and that was reflected in the years to come, the years that I constantly write about in the blog posts below.
I would pray, if only religiously, almost every night. I guess I was doing it out of obligation or because I figured that it would help me look good to God... Love? I don't think I ever remember love. All I remember about my faith then is that it took a back seat to my fantasies of becoming a wolf. I started to care about Jesus, suffice to say I liked him, when I got a little older. Around age 16 or so, Church seemed less haphazard, but it still wasn't a place I cared a great deal about. I knew I was cared about there by at least some people, but I didn't seem to care that much about them.
In my relationship with the vampire girl I mentioned in a couple of posts before, I reached out to the Lord in desperation. I wanted to get the heck out of the world I'd plummeted into. I mean, who was I gonna be able to tell that was gonna be able to help me willingly give this sinful life up? I knew that I was in danger spiritually, and I wanted out.
...And I was set free. I was led out. President's day of 2008, I broke up with her, and in May of that year, I gave up the totemistic / occult-ish pursuit of becoming a wolf. I knew that if I really wanted to show Jesus I loved Him, I'd have to let it all go, and by then, I was willing to leave that lifestyle because around then, I really began to get it.
There was one moment, I think, where I really started to understand God's love for me, about a year before I gave up my sinful lifestyle.
My Dad showed me some random video about the love of God on his computer. I watched it, cried, and I snapped. I had to tell Dad what I was dealing with. I didn't know what the consequences would be (I honestly feared death), but something in me stirred and said "you've got to tell him." I wrote out everything I was doing in-depth, called my Dad upstairs, and I lied on my bed in fetal position, shaking in fear of what he was going to say.
He responded lovingly, explaining the concept of buffet Christians, and that I needed to have the Lord search my heart and show me that what I was doing was wrong. He didn't curse me, he didn't beat me, he didn't cry or call me a failure. He reached out and helped me.
He helped me. Jesus helped me.
Every single time I recall that moment, and really think about it, I cry. I can't help it. The God of the universe reached down through my Daddy and chose to help me instead of destroy me. He showed me He was paying attention and wanted to help me. He wanted to redeem me, wanted to reconcile me to Himself.
A perfect and holy God, who hates sin, loved me and called out to me, a boy who lived in sin and expected death from the hands of the righteous.
From that day on, the love of Christ began to unfold. From that day on, it slowly blossomed into more than a story or a religious fact. It became the truth, it became love. It became freedom, life, redemption, hope... it's everything. It has to be, because I want more of it. I want to know the Lord more. I want more of that love, and I want to give it back to Him.
It's a truth that never gets old, no matter how much I recall it, because it's a real, living love.
He is a real, living Love.