In the weeks leading up to 2012, I was standing at the edge of an existential precipice.
On one hand, I could no longer afford to return to the youthful ignorance that had once justified my passivity. But on the other, I was afraid of taking a leap of faith into the unknown, where I had no sure footing beneath me.
Yet God was slowly but surely softening my heart towards him.
As the clock struck midnight, thus heralding in the new year, I knew, deep down, that it was time.
On the first Sunday of 2012, I stepped into a church–not out of familial compulsion or religious habit–but because I wanted to.
My inexplicable and intense need to discover who God was overcame any shyness I might feel at being in the midst of so many strangers, and compelled me to search for answers with whatever means possible.
I began to ask questions, attend classes and devour books. I opened up my chest of doubts, examining each and every theological debate, philosophical challenge and social controversy closely and critically. I wrangled over the spiritual and rational, and wondered whether God and reason could really coexist. (The answer is yes.)
Though I came to learn that a Creator could logically exist, that the Bible could be reliable as a whole, and that Jesus definitely did walk the earth, something was missing.
I knew about Jesus, but I didn’t know him.
My friend, who must’ve felt exasperated by all the questions I’d been peppering her with, encouraged me to read the Gospels. After all, if I wanted to know the Son of God, who was at the crux of Christianity, it only made sense to start with the Bible, the most direct source possible.
I flipped the Scriptures open, and began to read.
For the first time, I saw Jesus and his God-given task of dying on our behalf with fresh eyes, when he told his followers:
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” 1
I heard him speak to me as plainly as if he were looking me straight in the eye and deep into my soul when he said,
“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” 2
I felt his mercy, patience and love for me most keenly as his tattered body hung on the cross, him whispering,
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” 3
These, and much, much more.
Somewhere between those silvery thin pages, I fell in love with Jesus, and gave my life up to him.
Faith isn’t and shouldn’t be blind. Believing in God is an intentional action chosen on our part. But it is also one that is made by the grace of God, who calls us to him as his very own. 4
And so it is with my relationship with him.
I have only told you a minute fraction, a mere sliver, a single page, of my entire story of salvation. I have not yet told you about my new life in Christ and how much I have changed from the inside out. I haven’t expounded how beautiful it is to have a relationship with my Lord and Saviour, and how he has spoken to me in so many different ways. I can’t even begin to describe the sweet joy of knowing his love, experiencing his peace and receiving his forgiveness.
My faith in God is an ongoing journey, one which I walk with him day by day, and step by step.
And as I embark on writing, I hope to tell you more of this story that only God the Author knows best.