Months passed and Daniel grew and, as he did, I felt a growing need within me; it was, I now know, "The God Hole" - a place in our hearts that only He can fill. I felt a restless, persistent longing as never before, but had no idea what to do about it, but God did.
When Daniel was 11 months old, I returned to work. My commute involved a daily drive twice past Holy Trinity Parish located in Decatur, Georgia. The church's towering steeple was graced with a large cross as simple as it was elegant, and I found my eyes involuntarily drawn to it each time I passed by. I began to reflect upon my hit-or-miss upbringing in the Episcopal Church and how, during college, I had turned my back on all things Christian; not that I ever denied the existence of God, but I had no inkling that He desired a relationship with me. Each day as I gazed at the cross, the yet nameless longing waxed stronger and more compelling. Within two months, I announced to my atheist husband at the time that Daniel and I would be attending church that coming Sunday. Though he grumbled and called it all foolishness, nothing could adversely affect the inexplicable peace and delight cherished within once I had aired my decision.
But the best, most unexpected, and undeniably glorious was yet to come. After reassuring a tearful Daniel that I would return soon retrieve him from the church nursery, I negotiated my way to the narthex of the church, inhaling with waves of memories the mingled fragrances of incense, furniture polish and candle wax. I was greeted at the door to the nave by a smiling usher from whom I accepted a service bulletin. I took a deep breath as he swung the door wide for me, my senses enthralled by the Anglican-blue cross lit above the altar. I stepped, I hoped then, with humility, inside.
"Welcome home!"
The voice! His voice! It resounded in my ears and reverberated through every fiber of my being. Rich, warm, enfolding, inviting - His voice! Unspeakable joy and gratitude poured over me, through me, from me. His voice! I know I sat through the entire service with a ridiculous smile on my face, but I didn't care. God had personally welcomed me to His home, to be at home with Him, and I had no intention of leaving ever again. That morning, I truly came to understand the adage: "There's no place like home".
So, how did all the pieces of the puzzle congeal into one riotous collage after I heard the news from my doctor? Simply put, when Daniel and I were at death's door, I was not saved. I believe that Dr. Smith was an angel sent to intervene on God's behalf and the miracle of the new life I'd brought to bear in Daniel propelled me on my quest to fill the void in my soul. The Lord willed my eyes, beckoned them to the cross before I was ready to accept it. When I dared the first baby step across His threshold, He welcomed me home with open arms. I was the lost coin, the lost sheep, the Prodigal son - He welcomed me, a sinner, home.
The God of the Impossible who began a good work in me was faithful to complete it. He will do the same for you. Amen.
When Daniel was 11 months old, I returned to work. My commute involved a daily drive twice past Holy Trinity Parish located in Decatur, Georgia. The church's towering steeple was graced with a large cross as simple as it was elegant, and I found my eyes involuntarily drawn to it each time I passed by. I began to reflect upon my hit-or-miss upbringing in the Episcopal Church and how, during college, I had turned my back on all things Christian; not that I ever denied the existence of God, but I had no inkling that He desired a relationship with me. Each day as I gazed at the cross, the yet nameless longing waxed stronger and more compelling. Within two months, I announced to my atheist husband at the time that Daniel and I would be attending church that coming Sunday. Though he grumbled and called it all foolishness, nothing could adversely affect the inexplicable peace and delight cherished within once I had aired my decision.
But the best, most unexpected, and undeniably glorious was yet to come. After reassuring a tearful Daniel that I would return soon retrieve him from the church nursery, I negotiated my way to the narthex of the church, inhaling with waves of memories the mingled fragrances of incense, furniture polish and candle wax. I was greeted at the door to the nave by a smiling usher from whom I accepted a service bulletin. I took a deep breath as he swung the door wide for me, my senses enthralled by the Anglican-blue cross lit above the altar. I stepped, I hoped then, with humility, inside.
"Welcome home!"
The voice! His voice! It resounded in my ears and reverberated through every fiber of my being. Rich, warm, enfolding, inviting - His voice! Unspeakable joy and gratitude poured over me, through me, from me. His voice! I know I sat through the entire service with a ridiculous smile on my face, but I didn't care. God had personally welcomed me to His home, to be at home with Him, and I had no intention of leaving ever again. That morning, I truly came to understand the adage: "There's no place like home".
So, how did all the pieces of the puzzle congeal into one riotous collage after I heard the news from my doctor? Simply put, when Daniel and I were at death's door, I was not saved. I believe that Dr. Smith was an angel sent to intervene on God's behalf and the miracle of the new life I'd brought to bear in Daniel propelled me on my quest to fill the void in my soul. The Lord willed my eyes, beckoned them to the cross before I was ready to accept it. When I dared the first baby step across His threshold, He welcomed me home with open arms. I was the lost coin, the lost sheep, the Prodigal son - He welcomed me, a sinner, home.
The God of the Impossible who began a good work in me was faithful to complete it. He will do the same for you. Amen.
This is GREAT!!!
ReplyDeleteGreat series! I really enjoyed it! God is so good!
ReplyDelete