Why Do I Believe What I Believe?

I was not born a reject. 

As a matter of a fact, I was born into a very loving family with a mom and dad who doted over me.  I had loving Grandparents, attended incredible churches, worked hard in school, made friends easily, etc.

However, I learned very early in life about a little word called rejection.  It took me years to give it a name but it was there from my earliest memories disguising itself as insecurity or helping me build my tough guy- I don’t need anyone- persona. 

I struggled to find the true meaning of Jesus even though I was very aware of Him way before I can even recall.  He was wrapped in the skin of my incredibly fluffy Sunday School teacher or being discussed at Family Reunions between all of the Preachers and Professors who share the same blood that flows through my veins.  Jesus was present in the lives of every single person who entered my little life because that was the culture in which I was raised—a sort of Jesus culture. 

Because of my need to keep the incredibly lonely and fearful feelings of rejection far away from my heart, I convinced myself that the views and expectations of my people paralleled the approval of Jesus.  He was not elevated in my life to a point where other opinions or expectations fell away at the mention of His Name.  No, somehow, I had braided Him into the earthly relationships causing their opinions to be His opinion as well.  I wasn’t sure of myself and I absolutely wasn’t sure of my identity in Him.  Oh but how I wish I could have seen Him more clearly.  I just had a lot of fog that would take years to carefully and strategically drive through.

I can put it into words now, years after having my heart captured by my loving and incredibly relentless Savior.  But back then, it didn’t make sense.  Why couldn’t I do anything right?  What was wrong with me?  Looking back, I can see so clearly how I would sabotage relationships.  I would fight to defend myself hoping that in the battle there would be someone brave enough to see the truth of who I was.    The ones worth having would soon see the flaws and run away; so, it just wasn’t worth the effort. 

What my heart was feeling soon became what my mouth was saying… Disrespect and sarcasm painted themselves heavily over my heart.  People who talked about Jesus in my circle were the same ones who rejected me… it all made the lines of truth and justice and right and wrong so muddy.

And then I learned to run.  Oh yes, my ingrained desire to get the heck out of dodge when things got a little too close to heart issues was and still can be pretty strong. 

And see, I could stop here. 

We all could stop here at this point in our stories. 

But the question remains, Why Do I Believe What I Believe? 

Those previous words stand toe to toe with the understanding that sin stinks.  And absolutely none of us have walked this road of life without smelling the stinkiness that sin leaves in its wake.

It's just simply a fact of life.  People sin.  People cause pain.  You and I are people who sin and cause pain.  And even though fingers can be pointed, moments can be recorded and losses can be calculated, I absolutely refuse to let my story stop there. 

Is that where we want to stop when we are telling our stories?  Does stopping there tie the pretty bow on our Jesus stories? 

Is that where we want to get stuck?  Do we want a period instead of a comma or semi-colon? 

Stopping there doesn’t give me or you an inkling of understanding as to why I believe in Jesus. 

Emphasizing my issues and letting that be the end of my story would never paint for you, or remind me, of why I believe that Jesus is absolutely the most real piece of my past, present, and future.

If you feel the same, then please continue to listen.

You see, I don’t believe in Jesus and the tangible grace that He offers me every single day because someone told me that I should.  Oh yes, there may have been one or two beautiful souls whose voices were louder than the crowd.  But my belief in Him, my personal Declaration of Faith, comes because of a Revelation of Jesus Christ offered to me by the Holy Spirit. 

Jesus has been real, a true reality, for me.  I don’t even think that words can explain how real Jesus is to me.  When I read the Word of God, it is the truth for me.  I believe it.  I take every Word as an opportunity to watch my faith grow, pulling those words off the page and giving them legs and opportunity to be alive in my life and the lives of my near and dear ones.

Jesus has never ever rejected me.  He has always been nearer than I’ve often given Him credit.  Family has walked away.  Friends have walked away.  Church members have turned their backs.  But not Jesus.  And even when I doubted His presence, His very existence in my life, there has never been a single moment that He has not taken a leap over the tallest building or trudged through the deepest valley to let me know without a doubt that He loves me, adores me, wants to spend time with me, and even enjoys spending time with me. 

Insecurity and unmet expectations have no place in my relationship with Jesus Christ.  He sees the real me… I’m still surprised by this statement... He loves me with a love that will never waver despite a poor performance, a misspoken word, or a missed opportunity. 

Jesus has absolutely stood in the stands and applauded my poorest performance given from the most well-intended heart. 

Jesus has scooted up next to me in my loneliest hour.

He has taught me the value of worship and shown me how to use it as a weapon against my biggest enemies. 

He has shown me and is still showing me how to read and rely on His Word so that sin cannot take hold in the deepest recesses of my heart.

His back has never been turned toward me.  His conversations with God, my Heavenly Father, have never been laced with disappointment.  He has heard every single prayer that I have prayed and He has bottled every tear that I have cried.

With Jesus, I am not a victim.  With Him, I am an overcomer.

My feet have taken me down many a wide and winding road.  But the path to Jesus always remains steadfast and easily illuminated.  He’s so gracious to me that even when I forget or get sidetracked or just take an intentional stubborn right turn, He just keeps offering detours and side roads, always steering me right back on track.

He has healed my body.  He has saved my marriage.  He has given me children and placed a love in my home that I never could have imagined.  Jesus has given me today’s friends and many friends before them. 

But I don’t believe in Him because of those gifts.

I believe in Him because He offered hope when I was hopeless.  I believe in Him because my insatiable thirst for home and acceptance was quenched at His feet. 

He saw me.  He knew me.  And He loved me.  And even more than that, He made sure that I could see Him, know Him, and love Him as well.  I believe in Him because I once was lost but now I’m found.  I believe in Jesus because what was once an empty shell is now alive and thriving and full of hope and joy and peace.  

And even though my rejection meter flies off the radar sometimes, Jesus is always a very safe and reliable place of surrender for my aching heart.