The Story

 "I knew you before I formed you in your mother's womb." Jeremiah 1:5....."At the point where we stop loving and caring, Jesus is still there, loving and caring." A.W. Tozer

I've shared a lot of what "my story" is. Much of my life, especially the times of devastation and humiliation, were lived out in plain sight. I can be transparent about my weakness and desperate need of Him because it has so often been painfully obvious that I am and that I do. Still, I don't think I've talked much about what I write about today. I'm feeling led to, so maybe it will speak to someone that needs to read it, know it today.

I didn't grow up in a believing home. We tried to become churchgoers from time to time, but never for very long. I remember that my mother had a Bible, but I don't remember anyone ever reading it or even that it was placed in any visible spot. I don't remember any talk of the Father, Jesus, or of following Him. Yet somehow, some way, I have very early memories of talking to God every night before I went to sleep. I remember talking to him about so many things that a small boy would care about, as well as things I was afraid of. I believed He was there. I believed that He heard me. I trusted Him with my childlike faith. 

All of this continued into my early highschool years. He was a part of my consciousness. I know He had an effect on how I behaved and how I lived. Then, around the age of 16, everything began to change. Not immediately, but I began a slow descent away from Him. Peer pressure played a part, but I willingly went with the way my life was beginning to flow. So began a steady journey into darkness. So many of the things I did and said cause me to cringe all these years later. God, who had I once seen as my Friend, barely registered in my conscious thinking. The years passed; the darkness thickened. From time to time I would get into places where I would call on Him, promising all kinds of changes if He'd help me. Always though, I slid right back into my destructive ways. Life was a party and the party was killing me. I just didn't know it.

Until one day, I did.

In August of 1979, like the Prodigal Son, I found myself in my own private hogpen. Mentally, emotionally, and above all spiritually. I had reached the end. I knew that if I continued on this path, I would not be around much longer. I had no thought of suicide. I just knew my lifestyle of constant substance abuse would surely do me in some way or another. I was at the end, and it was at my end that I found, actually found again, the beginnings of Him. 

That's where Jeremiah 1:5 comes alive for me. I once knew something of Him, but I'd forgotten Him. He knew and knows everything about me, and He had never forgotten me. Before I was physically formed in my mother's womb, He knew me as no one ever could. I left Him, but He never ceased to pursue me. In the darkness and chaos that was my life, I cried out to Him....and that's where I discovered the truth of Tozer's words. I had stopped loving and caring about most everything, even Him, but I found that Jesus was still there, loving and caring for me. Broken before Him, He took hold of my heart and my life, and He has never left me, and by His grace, I will never leave Him. 

So, as I close, maybe you see something of yourself in my story. If so, no matter how dead you may feel or think things are, He is there, loving and caring for you. Know anew or know again the One who has always known you. He's the story. Enter into it.....and live.

Blessings,
Pastor O