Sunday, March 31, 2002
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Sunday, March 31, 2002 |
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A glorious weekend of celebration By MARY JANE HOLT
I can never forget, nor would I want to, all the years of searching. The years of reading about and trying to explore other religions. You see, I have always felt ... no, I have always known in my heart that God is bigger. Whatever we perceive Him to be, He's bigger. Way bigger. I used to be offended, or maybe irritated is a better word, by those who refer to God as She, It, The Universe, A Higher Power. None of that bothers me anymore. I'm comfortable with "He". Let the rest of the world be comfortable with whatever fits their search at this time and place in their soul's history. Once I got past my interest in other religions as far as pursuing one as my own I started to grow comfortable with Christianity as I have come to perceive it. I only desire now to maintain an ongoing and growing relationship with God and I am very comfortable believing it is Christ who made such a relationship possible for me. Indeed, it appears more and more that my relationship with God and Christ are one and the same. As I attempt to write about that relationship today, it is with more awe than I have ever felt before. I am not sure why that is the case. And what is truly awesome is there is no part of me that is anxiously trying to figure out a way to figure it all out. I had hoped I would be there by the time I was 80 or 90, but was not sure I would be. At 53, I am shocked to find I no longer am consumed with "Why?" and "How?". I am surprised that comfortable is the word I feel most strongly today as I think about God, Jesus, Easter and my faith. There was a time when comfortable would the last thing I would want to feel. I believe it was Emerson, back in my high school years, who convinced me it was okay to be honest at any given moment, and if tomorrow I think or feel differently, then it will be okay to be honest then, too. No, that's not the way Ralph Waldo put it, but it is the way I perceived it. (I enjoy knowing that I have always been honest with you in this column.) Let me tell you more about "comfortable." I don't know when I realized that life is all about the journey, not the destination. Maybe some part of me has always known that too, but, in recent years, all of me seems to have become consumed with the journey. Amidst all the ups and downs, all the tears and laughter, all the successes and failures, I have found there is one who "walks with me and talks with me and tells me I am His own ..." The songwriter knew what I'm talking about. What do I want most from my faith? That's easy. I want to know I am not alone as I make this journey through life here as we know it today. I don't believe I was alone before I came here. I don't believe I will be alone after I exit this place called earth. Only my faith in God through Jesus Christ has been able to give me that. I don't fully understand why I no longer have a burning desire to try to convince others of the claims made by Jesus, but I don't. I do know I have become comfortable knowing Jesus, perceiving His presence in my heart and life as I do and believing that anyone who truly searches for truth will find it, in their own way and in their own time. Maybe it's all about honesty. Sincerity. Getting to a point where truth matters more than anything. More than having all the puzzle parts. More than understanding why, how, what if ... I know this may sound like I think I'm there but I'm not. I'm just comfortable now on my journey towards there. A few days ago my three-year-old granddaughter said to me, "Grandma, I have voices in my head, and one of them is yours, and I can hear it anytime I want to." I love the way she says "Grandma." She makes me sound so grand. And I love the way, even with 50 years stretching between us, that we still have so much in common. It was she who announced to me a few months back that Jesus was God's son and Jesus was God and God was his own self's son. She and I will enjoy all the thoughts Easter brings to us this year, I hope you will, too. On this glorious Easter weekend, this column is dedicated to Dave, who understands about the journey.
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