Backslidin' and The Christian in Meeting Mr. Jesus Christ

Backslidin' and The Christian

I backslid, not for the first time nor the last certainly, but backslid enough for some Christians to turn their back on me and walk away. My shame for falling makes being denied by the brethren seem an appropriate response, for if I were in Christ then would it be possible to be in the clutches of Satan? “No, of course not!” If I had simply resisted and walked the path preached by Paul and Christ himself would I have found myself safely distanced from the evils of worldly thoughts and behavior? The answer, “Yes!” is what I hear in church, during the social hour following church, Sunday school class and the quiet whispers of private teaching from my elders. The recesses of my mind wonders, “if those people knew too, of the big sins I have committed, would they also shun me?” These people seem so sincere when they speak of their walk with Christ, their sins being unkind thoughts about inconsiderate drivers, forgetting an item at the grocery then feeling ungrateful for they have abundance in the cupboard, and on their comments go. I feel beyond redemption in light of such sinfulness.

To whom do I reach out for honest counsel and speak of my wickedness? There is some bad dust in my closet. God knows it, still He called me to Him, accepted me and my faults without fail. He knows all the garbage that flows incessantly inside my mind. He knows in my worst moments love for Him is all I have left . Never have I heard Him say, “Girl, you on a thin line, and it ain't lookin' good for ya'. Maybe you never did know me, call me when you get right with yoself and I might squeeze you back in!”

But something else happens that I don't hear whispered in the pews or from the pulpit and I feel maybe something about my faith is failing. I don't hear people say they wonder if God is really beside them at all times, but I do. Oh, there a stretches of time when I'm so aware of the Holy Spirit abiding in me I can't contain my flowing over like spilled wine. Others though, I'm so empty I wander in search of the leaky bucket I must surely have left in the corner of a dope house from my past. The mountains and the valley's, and I have known them both, intimately. I know God is here in the valley. We talk, He teaches and guides me, listens to my prayers and supplications. He doesn't ask if I am searching hard enough for him. No, he just keeps calling me to follow Him. When I hear Him I'm beside Him.

I have a history, like everyone else. Likely it's a similar story; a sand castle is built, a wave the size of a tsunami rolls in destroying the deception of the perfect life and thus turn to God, begging for help. My sand is still scattered throughout the valley, once a lost traveler in search of safe harbor, I found one in my Lord Jesus Christ. I'm one of the blessed, for God stretched His hand out to me during the storms and never quit waiting for me to grab hold, until that glorious day when my tiny hand was surrounded by His . With my instruction book in hand, eyes wide open and my ears cleared of the water, I began to follow Him through the valley and at times to the mountaintop for a view, looking back from where I had traveled.

I was pretty filthy, so Jesus saw I was washed and wore new clothes. Nobody ever showed such kindness to me before, so I followed when and as he asked. Life was good, I was “bearing fruit” as the church folk said, those who know me said I “glowed”. I did, inside and out. Times came when I felt confused and God blessed me with shepherds to guide me who led me to the richest pasture and clearest waters. When I heard God call me, I answered.

I learned about sin and how to not live in it, but I took my falls, skinned my knees and moved forward again. With little time to waste moving forward seemed urgent, at times I grew like a wild vine, other times I slept like a tired lamb. Often I sinned and felt my own grief, saw the disappointment of my shepherds and then looked up one day and saw tears in the eyes of God. I had taken control of my life, trying to behave my best rather than lean on his strength. I failed, being so very weak. I couldn't let God have this burden of mine, it was too shameful to be brought into his Light. It was my problem to work out. All areas of my life became infected with the bitterness and anger I'd carried for most my life and as in years past it seeped into the intimate relationships of my life. There was no connection between the two, only the skewered path on the barren ground I'd walked so often before trying to escape the shadow of pain and shame ever present.

Perhaps some sins are never to be spoken aloud, but between only God and His child. Maybe this is where I am confused. In the world when I did wrong admission, owning the behavior and making amends was paramount. No longer is this clear to me. If I am to only make amends for the little things, and only once- because I wouldn't possibly commit the same sin twice- and only to a Christian who is understanding but at the same time will not answer when my heathen self knocks at the door, then how am I to know atonement? How does trust and fellowship return? Is it true the Book of Life may have my name erased for wronging my brother?

Prayer is a tender act. To be selfish displeases God and by my thinking is unproductive. Asking for God's provision seems needless as He has committed it to us without fail. Prayer for forgiveness has a place when the sin, which is all sin, is against God and the emotional need to be set right with God is quite compelling as is the desire to return from the pit ventured into. Prayer of Thanksgiving for redemption from self-imposed bondage is ongoing, the weight of chains being lifted so freeing. But prayer for what falls into the realm of “God's will” is tricky stuff. It's all by His will, His grace, His mercy. So why pray?

I've concluded there is really little reason to pray beyond letting God know I see Him as my Sovereign, unchanging God. Nothing He was billions of years ago is different today. His promises He keeps. He never stops calling me to Him. But prayer serves to remind me how much I need and desire Him in my life. He likes to hear that, selfish though it may be, who else has a right to be selfish about any matter in this life? God knows I am torn on how to pray to him about a few things confusing to me. In example, this bipolar illness I believed if I just prayed hard enough for Him to heal me, He would. In His time of course, but still He WOULD. My brain couldn't wrap around that and tore me to pieces.

I struggle with what it means to be a Christian. The Bible is definitive but I have yet to read it all once, much less have a vague understanding of His message. Love seems to be what he wants us to do the most; love Him and one another, love His begotten Son and forgive as Jesus died to have our sinfulness forgiven. That too is hard to wrap my mind around, but not so much as when a Christian rejects another and betwixt they are unable to find forgiveness. Breaking God's heart seems the greatest sin, lack of forgiveness can't be far behind.

I backslid and was horribly cruel to someone I care deeply for as a friend. I called him friend when my words did not reflect my actions. My heart has since been troubled and tormented, tested and tried and taught through nothing more than reading my Bible. It's a situation I can take to no other human, but only God. I've had my David days where on the floor in anguished tears I have cried to God shamed by my sinfulness. Days of feeling like Delilah, presuming I'd been deceptive and dishonest, tossed me in to the pits of hell until realizing there are parts of my makeup that are reactive, not proactive. That's the stuff I don't see come and, like a train wreck, cause unimaginable damage. The Lord has had mercy on me, allowing me to walk in this valley, to feel the cold doors leading to spiritual death, then lighting a candle to lead me to His loving arms. Beside Him I've walked, listened and talked. He's gone into shadows and brought other souls forth to teach me. God has grieved as I beat myself with a guilty stick, and just as much He healed my wounds.

Life in God must be Divine Providence for there cannot be any possibility of arranging the right words, circumstances and open-mindedness to receive the Grace of God when He rains it from His throne. Trusting I will someday understand the parts of myself I can't at this time make sense of is growing my faith, some days so slowly I continue to doubt. Yet, I'm still here, fighting the fight, knowing at least God has His hand on me. For the remains I pray my eyes will be further opened and my service to God will please Him more each day. Amen!