I’m Grateful for my Faith
My faith is mine. It is the core of who I am. And I think, it’s what we believe that makes us who we are.
I grew up in a church environment with a focus on converting children between the preschool and first grade Sunday School class years. I wasn’t one of those kids who said the Lord’s Prayer with my Sunday School teacher.
Seriously though, I think I sensed the peer pressure, or at the very least, pressure. Something about that didn’t sit right deep down. Just saying the words wasn’t enough. They had to sit right in my soul.
So I waited. Eventually, I had the chance to talk about it with my mom. I don’t remember what I said. I don’t remember what she said. But I remember feeling right about saying the words. I remember feeling changed.
My Faith
I’ve witnessed enough to know my faith is real. While there are some unique aspects of my faith, I believe in a just, loving, merciful God who created us free to love Him and each other. It’s love that covers my multitude of sins and offers me grace. That love puts my mind and heart right.
I haven’t always been a good Christian. I’ve struggled. Even when I believed the Lord had forgotten me, he was still hard at work through numerous people until the right moment for my faith to be restored.
Happy Accidents?
Sometimes it’s easy to think we’re just the sum of happy accidents. Here are mine. My grandpa flees Mexico and comes to America. My other grandpa does the same. At some point, my grandma’s family moves to Illinois. Both my grandfathers end up working in the same town at the same steel mill.
My parents are born. My dad leaves the navy at the precise moment that my mom leaves college and they both sign up for classes at their local community college. They meet and get married soon after before moving to the Chicago suburbs.
They leave the suburbs for Winnebago County. I go to school in New Jersey, and end up coming back after graduation. I get married. We buy my sister in law’s house. We get divorced.
My future wife’s dad moves to Loves Park, Illinois. She visits and eventually moves to Winnebago county. Her first apartment is 10 blocks from my house.
She becomes friends with a girl at work. Her friend used to be one of my roommates who had only recently returned to Rockford. They stop by to visit and I meet my wife for the very first time.
Conclusions
I could go on. It all could have been an accident. Where some see coincidence, I see the hand of God, making small adjustments, hearing our prayers and finding ways to turn the evil in the world into something beautifully and wonderfully made.
In the middle of my doubt, God was watching over me. Without my faith, I would never have become the husband, father, or man I am today. God has given me a precious gift. He’s given me my life. And I am forever grateful.
