Return to the Fold

It has been a very long time since I sat down to say anything here.

That's obvious I guess—I have a knack for saying obvious things.

My life these past years does not require a detailed account. Simply said, I have listened more than I have spoken to the people around me and I have let them determine my way.

My way: Where I am going. Who I am. How I think. What I believe.

I listened to their questions. Some of them genuine. Some of them mocking.

Their sneers at Christians, that those who have faith are somehow less educated, or stupid, or fools.

Uneducated stabs at the relevancy, reality, and the very validity and credibility of the Bible.

And these are my friends. These are people I love.

Their questions, the real ones, became my questions. I've picked up several books, sought out the answers. I might talk about those here at some point.

When I first moved to Austin I was angry. Turning and looking at those I once considered myself, I became a part of another tribe. "This is how They are!"—it is ignorance to lump any group of people into one heap and declare such things. My point is, I left long ago being mad at the church.

I am not interested in they's. I am not looking to draw a line and put so-and-so here or there. I am interested in one thing, and that is Christ. His life. My life in Him. And finding my way in Him again.

I was an active Christian from 13 to 30 and with almost a decade gone I find I am a stranger to was once close and dear to me.

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We sat on the subway. It swayed and clanked and she said, "Did you used to go to church?"
Not sure where she got this question, what look in my face prompted it, I responded, "I did once."
"You miss it?"
"I do," I said.

Envious of those who live a life of faith. Of those who have found a True Walk with God.

"I know too much," I thought.

Here's what I know. That there is nothing in this world that satisfies me. That there is nothing I can do or bring into my life that brings me that, life.

Aware of this, so aware, the last month, and finally I must do something about it.

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I would like to tell you the Bible is lighting up for me when I read it. I would like to tell you my prayer time is filled with revelation. I cannot tell you either.

I know one prayer, and I pray it, and I trust it. Wholly.

Our Father, which art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

thy will be done,

in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive them that trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation;

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

the power, and the glory,

for ever and ever.

Amen.

Christ told me to pray that prayer and so I pray it. And you know what? It works. It brings me peace and settles my heart.

There is an inkling of love and a flicker of light as I encounter the scriptures I once loved the best. I am excited, somewhere in me, as I think about living life in Christ again.

I am cautious, because I know I have made false starts in the last couple of years.

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I have to tell you, I am leery of anything smacking of a marketing plan. I have no concern for the "relevancy" that is bandied about in Christian circles. I don't need (or want) cute sermons or skits. I don't need a coffee shop with a scripture on the paper cup.

I am aware of my prejudices. I am praying over them. I pray for an ear to hear what's really going on.

What I want—what I need—is the Word of God and room to worship Him. That's all I ask for. That's what I am looking for in a church. I know it is crucial for the Christian to be in a body. My prayer is to know where that body is. I know the Holy Spirit will guide me.

It won't be two years until I post again.