Unwrapping the Gift of Faith

Try as I might, I don’t remember being born. It was in the days before delivery room photographers shared the space with family and medical personnel to capture every moment on film. Still, even without such documentation, or even the testimony of many witnesses, I am convinced the event took place. I was unborn, and then I was born: simple as that.

I don’t remember any better the moment I was born again, though I am just as certain it happened! I was raised in a Christian home, where loving Jesus seemed a matter of course. Faith is mixed in with my earliest memories. But I would no more say that I have “always” been a Christian than I would say I have “always” been alive. I believe that both momentous events happened at particular moments in time, when I crossed over from darkness into light.

While I had no say in my natural birth, I believe there was something in my will that precipitated my spiritual birth, something that said, “Yes!” to God’s gracious invitation, even as a tiny child. I am convinced the Lord had His hand on me from a young age. There have been too many instances of His shielding grace to believe otherwise, when outcomes could have been woefully different than what indeed happened.

In my early days of faith, though, it was very much about wanting to please. I was a rule-follower, a peacekeeper, who experienced intense inward shame at making mistakes or letting someone down. Whenever I missed the mark, I did my best to cover my tracks, lest anyone suspect I was less than perfect. Maintaining such rigid expectations for myself took its toll — physically, emotionally, spiritually. I was anxious and fearful. I didn’t take risks or make friends easily. And I kept everyone — including the God I revered — at arm’s length. After all, if I let anyone too close, it would be much harder to maintain the charade. In truth, I wasn’t nearly as perfect as I thought I wanted to be …

I grew from child to teen to college student to adult, but that little-girl-lost feeling never left me. The push to get it right, to avoid disappointing anyone, drove all aspects of my life, faith included. I was great at giving the “right” answers, but I felt so empty inside. No matter how hard I tried, it always seemed like I was failing. No matter how good I was, I always fell short. I may have looked put together on the outside, but I knew the stains on my soul that no amount of penance could scrub clean.

Sure, I knew that God forgave, that Jesus died to wash our sins away through His blood. So why was it that no amount of repentance ever seemed to leave me feeling forgiven? What more did I have to do to receive a fresh start?

I was attending graduate school out of state when everything started coming apart at the seams. Fear and anxiety were riding me hard, and I was meeting with the latest in a string of counselors who didn’t seem to know quite what to do with me. I was a “good girl,” after all; where were all these black thoughts and despair coming from? Surely something devastating must have happened to me as a child, and I had repressed the memory … No?

Finally, our counseling sessions reached a crisis point. Afterward, my counselor commented on my resilience. Me, resilient? I thought. My life has just shattered into shards of glass at my feet, and my heart feels like it will be permanently embedded with the splinters. I am not resilient: I’m desperate. To God be all glory, He was the One I turned to when all hope was gone.

But why? Why, at this lowest point, did I still have the strength to look up? How could I not resent the One who surely could have made this easier for me? How did I not doubt His very existence?

Faith.

“… and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast” (Eph. 2:8-9).

Not only my salvation, but every morsel of faith I possess, is there by His gift alone. Why do some have to struggle so hard to believe, when others seem to accept Truth so easily? More favorable circumstances? More natural gullibility?

I don’t know. I can’t explain why — through every twist and turn and trial and disappointed hope — my faith remains unshaken. Oh, it’s been battered and bruised, absolutely. I have wrestled through doubts about God’s character, His goodness, His love for me … I still fight to separate Truth from lies, even after He has proved Himself to me again and again.

But I have never doubted that He is. And I have never desired to be separated from Him. I loved what I did not understand, even though everything within me raged against my inability to understand, to explain, to rationalize.

And still, there is more.

More than salvation? More than belief? More than being born again, crossing over from death into life?!

Yes.

There is more to the story, more to this life of faith, according to what Jesus Himself ordained for His followers. Walking with a handful of disciples on the road to Emmaus after His resurrection, Jesus told them: “I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49, emphasis mine).

This “clothing with holy power” has come to be known by a different name in our day, but it has lost none of its potency or necessity for believers in Jesus. I’m referring to the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

If you have been raised, as I was, in a more traditional and/or evangelical context, the concept likely has little significance for you. It may even cause a skeptical quirk of the eyebrow. But consider this: Jesus is the Author and Perfecter of our faith. If there is a gift that comes from His hand, don’t you think it’s one you might want to receive?

I have only scratched the surface here of a reality that has absolutely transformed my life. Believe me, I will continue this topic in future posts! My hope here is simply to whet your appetite for the fullness of what our Lord has for you; indeed, for all His children. If you are hungry for the deeper things of God, this, my friends, is right where you need to be. If you haven’t already, start asking for Him to fill you with all of Himself … and be prepared for Him to answer in mighty ways!