When I was in about the 3rd grade my biological father, who I didn’t see very often, took me to a church. I didn’t know anyone there. I didn’t know church. And I definitely didn’t know Jesus. I was given a Good News Bible and told to stand on the stage with a bunch of other young children. Then we read Matthew 5:13-16.
I had that Bible all throughout my childhood. I would often read from it even though much of it was confusing. When I was about 15 years old, I started having horrible nightmares. I saw dead people everywhere. Skeletons and graveyards. And I felt an incredible tug-o-war going on in me. Like physically.
For about 6 years, I set aside that Bible. In that time, I was swallowed whole by destructive behaviors. Then I returned to church with not just an intrigue, but a passion. Out of that return came the final stages of what I believe was a call on my life to minister. Oh, and that’s a whole other story!
I have often wondered about my journey. I see now moments of God’s presence all along. What I have never wondered about is why my father took me there that day. Or what it must have been like to be the Sunday School teachers who had to face his determination that I be included in the services very public events.
My father was not a good man. He was filled with bitterness and hate. He was abusive. He was self-serving at greater levels than most people ever know or experience. He was a victim of his father’s choices. His father was a bigamist. He was a product of his mother’s hurt and anger. And yet, I have never considered that what he gave me that day was the greatest gift he could have ever given. My mother and him gave me life, but he gave me Jesus.
If a father was ever going to give an inheritance to his children, this is the greatest by far. Within this gift, I have found healing. I have found joy and peace. I have found life. But the work was not mine or my fathers. All that is done in my life is done through God who sought me first (John 15:16). Which makes me wonder how many people go through life ignoring the signs or the tug in their hearts? How many justify self over spirit? Or self-sufficiency over dependence?
Here is the thing though. I did many things on my own throughout that space. I successfully raised children to be decent, contributing members of society. I studied English Literature. I wrote several books. I volunteered countless hours for local causes. It is likely that this resonates with some of you. I was even a happy person. But I was not complete.
Wounds from my childhood, unhealthy adult relationships, my own bad choices, and the consequences that followed all lingered somewhere below the surface. Until I was able to do what Romans 12:1-2 say, I was not complete. I want to say more today, but I think it best not to. Instead, I pray that an empty space is left within your mind and that you will take the time to consider how best to fill it up.
-blessings for the journey
Monica Swank 