A God of Love and Grace

As I look back at the person I was before becoming a Christian, it was not a pleasant one. I was a scared, angry little girl who thought that God was a God of anger. A God that would strike down anyone who disobeyed, who messed up. My parents were not perfect, but they did their best to bring my siblings and me up in a way that honored God. They both had their own broken backgrounds—but I truly believe they did the best they knew how, just as I am now learning as a parent myself.

My church background was very legalistic in nature. I remember as a child having lots of questions and feeling like none of them were heard or answered. Conflict would often arise in my little heart as I would hear preachers preaching terrifying things about hell in relation to how we dressed or looked. If God was supposed to be a God of love, why did it seem like so many preachers were so angry? Why would a loving God send a person to Hell simply for dressing differently than I did? I remember as a kid having nightmares at night that I would get left behind in the rapture or that I would burn in hell.

When I was ten years old, there was an altar call, and as always, I would sit in the back and just watch others go up. My mom looked at me and asked if I would be interested in going forward. Again, I was dealing with a lot of conflicting thoughts of Jesus in my head and wanted to hold onto my own way. I reluctantly went up with her, and she and my dad prayed around me. But I didn’t pray. I just knelt there, angry and confused.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do the right things—I was just dealing with a lot of hard thoughts about some of the inconsistencies I was seeing at that age in the church. I remember the preacher asking for testimonies afterward and my parents looking at me expectantly, and I just sat there with sweaty palms. In my head, I was thinking, “Nothing happened. I didn’t pray. I just knelt there. I have not surrendered anything to Jesus as of yet."

Our pastor at the time didn’t call on me to testify, but made a remark that he was so happy to see young people as young as me making moves to come forward, with which a lot of hearty “Amens!” echoed in response around the sanctuary. I just stared down at my lap, knowing that I had not made any decision whatsoever to follow Christ.

That summer, I experienced a lot of conviction. Now looking back, it’s hard to know what was true conviction from the Holy Spirit and what was just propaganda that was guilting me into feeling certain ways because my legalistic background. But I’m going to approach telling this story from the viewpoint that it was probably a little mixture of both.

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God's Grace Enters

That September, I had one of those disappearing experiences yet again. My sister and I shared a bedroom, and my sister had gotten up before me. I was lying down in the bed, and in what seemed like a moment, my sister was there—and then I blinked, and she was gone. A pile of clothes was left on the floor.

I literally leaped out of bed screaming. I was screaming for my sister, screaming for my mom, since they were the only ones at home at the time. I couldn’t hear anything. No response. I ran outside. I ran all around the house. Nothing. I hadn’t checked upstairs yet. I had already yelled up there multiple times with no response. Finally, I ran upstairs sobbing. It had finally happened. I knew I had officially been left behind. And I was filled with the worst fear that I’ve ever felt in my life.

I walked into our guest room, tears streaming down my face—and with disbelief, I saw my mom and sister! They looked at me with extreme concern. They could tell I’ve been crying uncontrollably. My mom looked at me and said, “I’ve been yelling at you over and over to come up here. Didn’t you hear me?”

The crazy thing? I had never heard her once. Could God have blocked my hearing for that short amount of time? I think He did. I told my mom that I thought the rapture had happened and that I had been left behind. She asked me if I had a relationship with Christ. I shook my head. She then asked if I wanted to pray.

We went to her room, and as I prayed the sinner's prayer with her—I remember feeling instant relief—like a weight had been lifted off my chest. Something definitely was different. For the first time in my life, I finally felt free. No shame. No guilt. No fear. God's grace had come down to me that day and changed the trajectory of my life.

God's Love is Great

Most of us know that just because you become a Christian, your life doesn't automatically get easier. Jesus said that we would face troubles. (John 16:33) I still had to overcome my view of God being an angry tyrant. After sitting under many years of "fear-based" teachings of the Gospel, it took many years to truly believe that our God was a loving Heavenly Father.

Some may be familiar with the hymn by Frederick M. Lehman, "The Love of God." My favorite verse is the third one, which I have put below:

Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the skies of parchment made, were ev’ry stalk on earth a quill and ev’ry man a scribe by trade, to write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry; nor could the scroll contain the whole, tho' stretched from sky to sky.

I was in college when a dear friend created her own arrangement of the song above for piano. She had made slide lyrics to be displayed as she played. It was the first time that I had really paid attention to the words of this song–realizing that we can't even fathom how much our God loves us. He sent His only son to die for us. To save us. (John 3:16) I'm so thankful that despite our past sins, selfishness, not being surrendered, bitterness, faulty mentalities, you name it, our God loves us with a love that is truly immeasurable.

I'm thankful that, through almost ten years of being part of a healthy church and having Biblical truth poured into my life, Jesus has changed me. He has helped me to become more loving, thoughtful, and servant-minded in how I treat those around me. To truly be more Christ-like–to show Christ's love that He has so graciously shown to me.

Is every day perfect? Of course not–but I at least know that our God is a God of grace–always there to pick me back up when I fall. Not to tear me down. I hope and pray that if you have had a twisted mentality of God and His love, please know that He is there for you. With a love that we can't even comprehend.

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