Looking back in wonder

 

Looking Back in Wonder …

to the Day It all Began

 A while ago, I met some old school friends. I hadn't seen them for many years. Since before I became a Christian.

One of them looked at me, eyes wide with horror, and asked, 'Why did you do it?'

I realised she meant, why did you become a Christian? So I told her a little bit of it. I understood her surprise. I'd been one of 'The Girls Least Likely' (variation of Rebecca Sparrow's title) to become a Christian. 

Most of my story is contained in earlier blog posts – the atheist tutor who demanded I give up any belief in God or FAIL, my six-month argument with him, his (temporary) victory … then the search for meaning in a godless life, and at last, the experience of hearing a man read from the Bible on our veranda, which caused an astonishing illumination in my mind. Suddenly everything made sense.  It was like a thousand-piece jigsaw putting its pieces together all by itself. I became a believer on the spot.

But – although I loved God, I didn’t like his people much at all. They were so sweet and good and meek (yes, fruit of the Spirit!). Being not-sweet, not-always-good and very independent, I decided to go it alone, which was disastrous. So I became a believer but not a serious Christian who could say Jesus was my lord.

But how did I get from there to being a full-on Christian?

Well – it was unusual.

 

So,  ALL IN A DAY

I was excited. Well, as excited as I could get when I was battling a sense of emptiness and depression. But I was determined to keep going with my plans and dreams.

 

Dressed in a purple and cream mini dress, a black mini coat and black shoes and stockings, I made my way up into the old stone government building in Brisbane city, to a big room where in one corner a crowd of excited young people waited, chattering. At the front of the room was a cubicle where a doctor or nurse was to give us our final vaccinations for typhoid and cholera before we set out for England.

 

Armed with references about my initial film-making and teaching successes, I hoped to study at a film school in England. My alternative was to teach in a special school for high IQ maladjusted students. (No, I wasn’t your average young girl.)

 

As I waited for my vaccination, I began to chat to a nearby girl. She was nervous but very happy. Nearly all the girls around me were. We could barely hear each other with the talking and giggling in the background.

 

Suddenly the room around me, the other people and all my physical surroundings seemed to recede into the distance, as if I were seeing them through a pane of thick glass; or as if I were at the movies watching these girls and boys on the screen from my separate place in the theatre. Further and further they receded, until I felt quite alone. I seemed to be standing on a high mountain somewhere between heaven and earth – and God was there with me. He was everywhere. Nobody else was there. All my excitement had drained away so completely I had lost my desire to go to England. The mind-blowing thing was: I had a clear feeling it was God who did not want me to go! (Well, not just then anyway.)

 

I’d already had my initial inoculations – and been quite sick for a few days after them. I had a scar from my TB needle. I’d been saving for the trip, banking most of my earnings from English teaching, wearing the same clothes week after week. And here I was, knowing I had to abort the whole thing.

 

(If it were really God, He’d have let you know earlier, I hear people saying. I agree – He probably was saying it earlier. But I had my fingers firmly in my ears towards God at that time, since my initial salvation experience. So there I was…)

 

At that inconvenient time, I knew God was calling me to walk closely with Him. Calling me to walk out of this building and get on with ‘the real thing’ for me – to become a full-on Christian. And to get started with it in Brisbane where at least I knew a few Christians.

 

I turned my back on my glamorous future. I walked away from the excited young people – right out of the building.

I found a phone box, rang my Christian sister and we met in a coffee shop.

Over about six cups of coffee, I thrashed it through for hours with her. (Why now?)

At last I went and spoke to a Christian minister, who encouraged me to attend church. Then I went back to my flat.

It had been a long battle. As a thinking person, I’d wanted truth. But I hadn’t liked the expression of it in the few Christians I’d met at first.

I sat on one of my two lounge chairs. I felt as if God was sitting on the other chair. I looked at that chair, turned my heart to God and admitted defeat. After my long battle against becoming a Christian, God had won! (Fortunately.)

 

Perhaps like C.S. Lewis, I was one of God’s most reluctant converts. But I found my way with His help. To my surprise, I loved being a Christian and soon met people I really liked who became friends for life. Little did I realise I stood on the brink of a life that sparkled with God’s miraculous provisions.

 

Did any of you come from backgrounds that made the transition to Christianity difficult?