I have not always been kind. I have not always been a people lover. My parents, and those who love me assure me regularly, that I have always been a loving and compassionate, deep soul, but I know my heart. They tell me stories about how my first words were "please" and "thank you", how I preferred salad and water over junk food and pop, how I always played nurse to the sick family member, and stood up to the bus stop bully when others would not. Yeah...hmmm.
I was baptized by my Grandpa, David Taylor, at the age of seven. My brother, Cole, and I were baptized at the same time, and the whole family was there to witness it. I wore a bikini that was too tight for my healthy, little girl body. Mom made me wear a t-shirt over it, but I still felt hot, which was important for "sexy-baby-Shelby", since all eyes were going to be on me. I remember deeply caring about the day; what Cole and I were committing to. I remember, the night before, Grandpa Taylor sat us down at our cousins' house, and drew out stick figures of us on one side of a ravine, Jesus on the other, and our sins flooding the ravine, separating us from him. Grandpa, then, drew a cross, bridging the gap between me, Cole, and Christ. This was big; what we were doing the next day was big.
I love water. I love to swim; I am a mermaid. Yes, I was getting baptized, and that was very important to me, but put me in a pool of water, in the middle of winter, wearing my "sexy-baby-Shelby" bikini, and I'm elsewhere. I remember taking the whole process very seriously, we took turns getting baptized by Grandpa Taylor, we prayed, it was over. I did well...and then I swam. And that's what everyone remembers; that's the story my Grandpa would tell everyone about his granddaughter! That in all his years of ministry, I was the only one to swim out of the baptismal!
I do like that story. But it's difficult when your friend's testimony sounds like some supernatural thriller, or your mom's was full of longing, mystery, and love- a still, small voice kind of story. I swam out of the baptismal and gave my Grandpa a good, hearty laugh. I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior that day. I repented of my sins, and committed to live a life that would glorify him that day. Yes. And I've rededicated my life to Christ a couple of times since! At an Acquire the Fire conference, I'm sure, and when Billy Graham spoke at Arrowhead Stadium, I remember doing it then.
Back to my first thought. I have not always been kind or loving to people. Well, to be honest, I have not always known Jesus. My spirituality has been my own since...ever. I was raised in a Christian home, with a PK for a father, and a spiritual, passionate, new believer, with Catholic roots for a mother. We all had our own spirituality and language for it, and they would intersect occasionally at home and at church. But it was my own, and I liked it that way most of the time. I'd get frustrated and impatient when my family tried to make spirituality, as a family, "a thing"; something I regret now, because I see it is very important. Must have been my hormones...
I was(am) very proud and stubborn. I had my relationship with God, and that was separate from everything else. I could love the Lord, and treat my brother so, so poorly. I could read my bible, and disrespect my mom. I could sing worship songs in the front row at church, and cause my dad to resent me at home. Not okay. It wasn't until high school that I really saw my hypocrisy-my humanity, and came to know Christ.
In fact, I have the oddest confession: up until about the age of seventeen, it was the most awkward, painful thing to speak the name of Jesus Christ. Talk about some spiritual warfare/baggage! Before that, I would only say/pray to God/Father in Heaven/Lord; never Jesus. How could I talk to or about someone I hardly knew? The thought frightened me, and threatened my pride and my ego. Woof. I knew the Father. I had a great example of a father's love here on earth; I get him. The Holy Spirit? Mind you, my mother's background was very much so Italian-Catholic mysticism, so having the Holy Spirit dwelling within me, communicating with the Father, and leading me-totally up my alley. But Jesus? Jesus, you are Lord, and you are the standard, and you are my Savior, and you are man, and you were dead, and now you're alive, interceding for me at the right hand of the Father, and you're coming again. And you love me. And you're epic, but you're a man with scars on your hands and feet. You're glorious, holy, and magnificent...and humble. What. Jesus Jesus Jesus. I love you.
Seriously, surrendering that stronghold, and truly seeking out this man named Christ Jesus; truly fixing my gaze on him changed my life. - Changes my life. He's transformed my heart. Maybe I always had manners, but I didn't always have Christ, and I feel unburdened by knowing and delighting in his goodness and power.
I swam out of a baptismal, so I am claiming child-like faith. But I also recognize the sweet sound of Amazing Grace. I feel it more and more, and I am so in awe of my Jesus; all that I can comprehend, and all I can't even begin to fathom.
