I rarely share my conversion story, as I've stated before on the forums, I am an extremely private worshipper. I don't worship in groups, and I don't talk about my tender, sacred relationship with the Father lightly as casual conversation. What I have with God is the most fragile, beautiful thing that has ever been given to me, and I guard it jealously.
This being said, I do feel the need to document my experiences somewhere, either as a way to reflect upon my journey or as a possible inspiration for someone with my background. This is the reason for my blog.
I was not raised Christian. Quite the contrary, actually, I was raised in a neo-pagan household. I was also brought up to distrust Christians and fear them. As I believe in honoring my mother and father, this is the most I will say about that.
Suffice it to say that paganism didn't last long with me after I moved out of my parent's house and started my life. I tried many different methods of finding a greater meaning, none of them worked for me at all. They were all triumphalist nonesense or hollow "feel good" mantras which didn't carry much weight for me.
I gave Christianity a go once before, a few years back. I didn't know it at the time, but my heart wasn't right. I was dismayed at the fact that the Bible confounded me. The Parables were a jumbled mess to me, I couldn't retain any of the stories. Eventually, I gave up and decided I wasn't going to pursue religion any further.
But I never stopped believing in the God Israel. On some level, I knew He was real beyond a shadow of a doubt. I can't rightly explain that to the reader, other than that I wasn't so much denying God as I was rebelling against Him.
Fast forward to this past winter. In the long drives to and from my place of work, I have a lot of time to think. As I am a sinner and at the time had not yet found Christ, I had many, many regrets on my heart. I found suddenly one winter morning that as I drove home from work, some of these regrets cast a shadow across me. It was a feeling I could not shake.
Soon I was reliving every instance where I hurt another person. Every one of my selfish acts was dregged up and placed out in front of me to examine. People and instances that I hadn't thought about in years were following me to my bed at night. I recall standing helplessly beneath the dark purple of a starlit sky and feeling that if only I'd had some way to go back and stop myself from commiting such acts, I would be free of this torment.
Now, I should say here that I am very musical. Music is in my blood; most people in my family have some kind of musical history. As a result, I have a very extensive music collection, a large portion of which is crammed into my smart phone for me to play over my car stereo as I drive.
One morning as I drove home, a song shuffled on that I hadn't before given much thought to. It was a techno song simply titled, "Hymn". The lyrics caught my breath.
"Give us, this day, all that You've shown me. The power and the glory, till Thy Kingdom come. Give us, all the Storybook told me. The faith and the glory, till Thy Kingdom come."
I stared at my stereo. What was once a simple techno song suddenly had so much relevance to my situation. I remembered the God of Israel, and His promise to forgive us lost souls who yearned for His loving hand. I suddenly had a strong and inexplicable desire to be with God. To come out of my darkness and into His light, like a child might miss the warm embrace of a parent on a long trip abroad.
I decided I needed Him. I have since learned how to pray properly, but at the time I was unlearned and just an awful mess spiritually. The closest thing to a prayer that I knew were the lyrics to that song.
So I started singing it every day on the way to work. Every single day. I sang it to the sky and the setting sun. I sang it to the stars lingering in the lavender breath of dawn. I also started listening to Bible discussions on the radio, even though I rarely understood them.
I did this for about a month. One day, while singing it on the way home from work, I was struck by the strangest sensation I have ever had in my entire life. I will do my best to describe it here as follows:
It was like a trickle of light poured into my heart. It was warm and electrified and a little unsettling yet peaceful. I realized suddenly that my face was wet, and upon looking in my mirror I saw that I was crying. So I kept singing, and the sensation grew.
It grew and grew, until I felt like a river was pouring from my heart, like I was bleeding pure sunshine from deep within myself. I was stricken with a bizarre feeling of regret. Not the regret that had burned my insides to ashes for so long, but a final, reverent, peaceful regret. All the things that I had done that I was sorry for welled up in my gut and settled. I stopped singing.
By this time I was sobbing uncontrollably. I managed to get out a choked whisper, "I'm so, so sorry. My God in Heaven, I am so sorry for what I've done."
I made it home without wrecking, but I wasnt the same. I felt a presence with me that I hadn't had before. Suddenly my Bible discussions made sense. I opened the Bible, and read the New Testament, and the Parables of Christ jumped out and into my head and made complete sense. The stories all seemed so simple suddenly, and I cannot explain why.
Seeing excessive violence on television suddenly made my stomach turn. Foul language, sexual perversion, the cruelty of the world around me, it grieved me in a way that I cannot describe in words.
The obvious conclusion is that I came to God with a repentant heart, He forgave my sins, and gave me His Holy Spirit to guide me through my new life. I felt essentially reborn.
But then I got to thinking about it, and this is what makes me weep every single time it comes to my thoughts:
All across the world, God had thousands upon thousands of worshippers standing on ceremony. Huge congregations praying properly, Rabbis in temples performing elaborate rites to honor Him.
And over this roar, He heard me singing an obscure techno song in place of a prayer. He heard me, and drew near to me, and welcomed me home. He could have easily passed me over, "oh that person needs to learn how to address Me before I accept them."
But He didn't. In His infnite Mercy, in his unimaginable Grace, I am forgiven.
And I moved on to start extensive studies on the Bible and accept Christ as my savior, but that is another story that must wait until my next entry.
And just in case you were wondering, I still sing that song every single day after a proper prayer. It is my personal covenant to Him, a reminder that I was lost, but I am found. Blind, but now I see.
It is my Hymn.
This being said, I do feel the need to document my experiences somewhere, either as a way to reflect upon my journey or as a possible inspiration for someone with my background. This is the reason for my blog.
I was not raised Christian. Quite the contrary, actually, I was raised in a neo-pagan household. I was also brought up to distrust Christians and fear them. As I believe in honoring my mother and father, this is the most I will say about that.
Suffice it to say that paganism didn't last long with me after I moved out of my parent's house and started my life. I tried many different methods of finding a greater meaning, none of them worked for me at all. They were all triumphalist nonesense or hollow "feel good" mantras which didn't carry much weight for me.
I gave Christianity a go once before, a few years back. I didn't know it at the time, but my heart wasn't right. I was dismayed at the fact that the Bible confounded me. The Parables were a jumbled mess to me, I couldn't retain any of the stories. Eventually, I gave up and decided I wasn't going to pursue religion any further.
But I never stopped believing in the God Israel. On some level, I knew He was real beyond a shadow of a doubt. I can't rightly explain that to the reader, other than that I wasn't so much denying God as I was rebelling against Him.
Fast forward to this past winter. In the long drives to and from my place of work, I have a lot of time to think. As I am a sinner and at the time had not yet found Christ, I had many, many regrets on my heart. I found suddenly one winter morning that as I drove home from work, some of these regrets cast a shadow across me. It was a feeling I could not shake.
Soon I was reliving every instance where I hurt another person. Every one of my selfish acts was dregged up and placed out in front of me to examine. People and instances that I hadn't thought about in years were following me to my bed at night. I recall standing helplessly beneath the dark purple of a starlit sky and feeling that if only I'd had some way to go back and stop myself from commiting such acts, I would be free of this torment.
Now, I should say here that I am very musical. Music is in my blood; most people in my family have some kind of musical history. As a result, I have a very extensive music collection, a large portion of which is crammed into my smart phone for me to play over my car stereo as I drive.
One morning as I drove home, a song shuffled on that I hadn't before given much thought to. It was a techno song simply titled, "Hymn". The lyrics caught my breath.
"Give us, this day, all that You've shown me. The power and the glory, till Thy Kingdom come. Give us, all the Storybook told me. The faith and the glory, till Thy Kingdom come."
I stared at my stereo. What was once a simple techno song suddenly had so much relevance to my situation. I remembered the God of Israel, and His promise to forgive us lost souls who yearned for His loving hand. I suddenly had a strong and inexplicable desire to be with God. To come out of my darkness and into His light, like a child might miss the warm embrace of a parent on a long trip abroad.
I decided I needed Him. I have since learned how to pray properly, but at the time I was unlearned and just an awful mess spiritually. The closest thing to a prayer that I knew were the lyrics to that song.
So I started singing it every day on the way to work. Every single day. I sang it to the sky and the setting sun. I sang it to the stars lingering in the lavender breath of dawn. I also started listening to Bible discussions on the radio, even though I rarely understood them.
I did this for about a month. One day, while singing it on the way home from work, I was struck by the strangest sensation I have ever had in my entire life. I will do my best to describe it here as follows:
It was like a trickle of light poured into my heart. It was warm and electrified and a little unsettling yet peaceful. I realized suddenly that my face was wet, and upon looking in my mirror I saw that I was crying. So I kept singing, and the sensation grew.
It grew and grew, until I felt like a river was pouring from my heart, like I was bleeding pure sunshine from deep within myself. I was stricken with a bizarre feeling of regret. Not the regret that had burned my insides to ashes for so long, but a final, reverent, peaceful regret. All the things that I had done that I was sorry for welled up in my gut and settled. I stopped singing.
By this time I was sobbing uncontrollably. I managed to get out a choked whisper, "I'm so, so sorry. My God in Heaven, I am so sorry for what I've done."
I made it home without wrecking, but I wasnt the same. I felt a presence with me that I hadn't had before. Suddenly my Bible discussions made sense. I opened the Bible, and read the New Testament, and the Parables of Christ jumped out and into my head and made complete sense. The stories all seemed so simple suddenly, and I cannot explain why.
Seeing excessive violence on television suddenly made my stomach turn. Foul language, sexual perversion, the cruelty of the world around me, it grieved me in a way that I cannot describe in words.
The obvious conclusion is that I came to God with a repentant heart, He forgave my sins, and gave me His Holy Spirit to guide me through my new life. I felt essentially reborn.
But then I got to thinking about it, and this is what makes me weep every single time it comes to my thoughts:
All across the world, God had thousands upon thousands of worshippers standing on ceremony. Huge congregations praying properly, Rabbis in temples performing elaborate rites to honor Him.
And over this roar, He heard me singing an obscure techno song in place of a prayer. He heard me, and drew near to me, and welcomed me home. He could have easily passed me over, "oh that person needs to learn how to address Me before I accept them."
But He didn't. In His infnite Mercy, in his unimaginable Grace, I am forgiven.
And I moved on to start extensive studies on the Bible and accept Christ as my savior, but that is another story that must wait until my next entry.
And just in case you were wondering, I still sing that song every single day after a proper prayer. It is my personal covenant to Him, a reminder that I was lost, but I am found. Blind, but now I see.
It is my Hymn.
