You Don’t Have to Die to Meet God

There were no attacks from the adversary the first week after God’s visitation in the garage. Nothing bogged me down. I seemed to be walking lightly, my head was in its correct position, my attitudes were fully adjusted, and there was a smile you could see from the other end of a phone. But as each day passed the luster began fading little by little and the temptations began knocking at my door again. Was Jesus still there, sweeping the slate clean? Feeling alone and confused, I screamed “No! Don’t leave me!” Once again I felt I was standing before wolves gathering to take down this newborn child of God. How can this be? Just two weeks before I was surrendered in the arms of Christ, and now I was standing as a weak sheep in the herd, the sort wolves encircle while panting and howling and before taking the first bite. Though I can look back now and see what the problem was, I couldn’t see it at the time. Nothing had changed on my end of the deal. I listened to the same music, watched the same television shows, spent time with the same friends, nursed the same male ego, and flashed out the usual cuss words to achieve acceptance from others. I didn’t know about Christian fellowship. I didn’t know about being fed spiritually. If someone had boldly confronted me with the importance of going to church, of opening the Bible to fuel up on God’s Word, of getting involved in a Bible study, or of finding a Christian radio or television station, I would have had much more guidance than I had. The early Christians “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42), but I devoted myself to nothing. I was running on God’s touch, and I was running it to empty. I didn’t have any Christian mentors, and the truth was I didn’t even know what a Christian mentor was. All I knew was that I met Jesus and now I needed to get to know him, to diligently seek him as he sought me.