From Fear to Love No. 1
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From Fear to Love No. 1
As a little girl sitting alone in my acolyte robe on the front pew of my small-town church, my legs too short to touch the floor, I remember being terrified of the pastor. Dressed in his robe of all black, towering over me from the pulpit, he yelled, a lot. Of course, my small, undeveloped brain from nearly 40 years ago does not remember the actual words he used, but the feelings persist.
Fear
I was completely afraid of this man and I was completely afraid of going to hell when I died. Frankly, I cannot extract a single memory from his preaching when a message grounded in God’s love prevailed enough to seep into my psyche and plant that seed.
Sadly, this began an unconscious practice of living life outside my faith instead of guided by my faith. Because I was afraid of hell, and frankly, because I felt I could never do enough good to make up for my own sinful self, I decided I would stop trying.
Why bother?
And even though that was a conscious decision I spoke aloud to God in my bed at age 13, deep down I could not own it completely.
The idea of “giving your life to Christ” and then completely changing all the “bad” behavior felt particularly daunting. Every revival and camp meeting preacher drove this impossible task home. The message I heard in my little girl's brain was that it was the only way to not burn for eternity.
Yes, Jesus died for me, but I also heard that I had to change the bad parts of myself, accept him as my personal Lord and Savior, go to church every Sunday, and tithe. Those were the high-level expectations, but when the pastor started breaking down all the low-level expectations of the Bible, I was completely defeated.
I overanalyzed every single law or requirement I learned in worship and Sunday school. Did it count that I was in church and tithing if my parents made me? Did it count that I said, “I accept you Lord,” if I really did not understand what that meant? Did it count that I lied to my parents or teachers about a homework assignment, that I used “bad words” when I was with my friends or tried to sign my own report card? Did hating to cook dinner mean I was not honoring my father and mother?
Did it count…
I spent a great deal of time as a child and teenager asking the question…was “this” the thing that would damn me to the fires of hell for all eternity?
Looking back now, I spent so much time asking if it counted that I did not have time to listen for the answer. To just listen to God. I spent so much time asking if it counted, asking for help changing, and confessing my sin just in case, that I never stopped to prayerfully feel God’s presence in my life. Of course, I do not remember anyone suggesting that as an option. Perhaps they did, but if they did, the messages of fear were so strong they overpowered that as a possibility.
I have been reflecting on this reality a great deal the last couple of years; what it meant as a little girl to be afraid of God. What it meant to be completely absorbed by the “goodness” of my actions and behaviors for fear of the fires of hell. At the same time though, I have been trying to reconcile as part of these reflections how my heart still felt open to such a God as this. After being told for so many years this was the only way to heaven – how is it that hearing a different message felt so right – so holy – so unscary or sure, because it did, and it still does. I have also been struggling with why that is not the case for others. I have been reflecting on why there is so much resistance to a loving and graceful God.
This post is an introduction to a new series – fear to love. As time passes, I will be reflecting here on key moments in my faith journey and how I was moved to know God from a place of fear to a place of love and how this has completely and utterly changed my relationship to God, my neighbors, and myself. Thanks for starting the journey today…stay for as long as you would like. I am grateful to be sharing it with you.
Peace, Mitzie
A note to my parents and church family from when I was a little girl. Don’t read these harshly. While I didn’t feel I was in my place theologically, I did very much feel YOUR love and that is one of the reasons, as future posts will reveal, that I was able to make this transition. I love you all!