I was six years old the first time someone asked me if I believed in God. I was standing outside my first grade class in line as the boy in front of me turned around and whispered, "Jessi, do you believe in God?" I replied, "Yes," then shushed him as we began walking down the long hallway toward the computer lab.
To be honest, I can't remember a time that I didn't believe in God. I'm not sure that anyone really told me about him; I've always just known that God is real and that his home was somewhere beyond the big, blue sky. The thing is, I didn't always know God as I do now.
I grew up in a city 30 miles outside of San Diego. San Marcos was a wonderful place to grow up. I always felt safe and my parents made sure we were always involved in sports and activities. We spent summers at the beach surfing and trekked to the mountains on occasion to see the snow. From the outside, I had an idyllic childhood.
Fast forward six years. At twelve years old, we lived in a beautiful five-bedroom house. My father's hard work and perseverance had produced the American Dream. He has always been a very hard worker, smart and talented. But I suppose the American Dream wasn't all he imagined it was going to be--it wasn't all he planned it out to be.
We were standing in the garage one sunny afternoon as he was looking through a box of mementos. He pulled out an aged paper that he had written in high school. He carefully unfolded it and then started laughing. On this paper was a list of all he had hoped to accomplish by the time he was 35. Get married. Have two kids. Buy a four-bedroom house. Own his own company.
He had accomplished all of those dreams and more before he was 35. My father was successful, well-liked (for the most part) and living his American Dream. But as his laughter turned to silence, I could tell something bothered him about that list.
I look back on that day from time-to-time and wonder if him discovering that old high school memento had anything to do with the choices he would make shortly thereafter. My hard-working, talented father would give up his American Dream in pursuit of something else entirely. The specifics aren't important; what's important is his quest for something different led me to the very thing I had always needed: Jesus.
One dark night, a couple of months later, I accepted Jesus into my heart and my life was forever altered. If my father hadn't changed the course of our lives, I don't know that I would be the person I am today. I don't know if I would know Jesus as intimately as I do now. Regardless of his decisions, he gave me the greatest gift a father could ever give his daughter: faith.
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| Dad and me circa 1991 |
As the years pressed on, I grew very bitter towards my father and his choices. I hated the feeling of never being settled. I hated the feeling of never feeling like I belonged somewhere. And I hated feeling like I had lost out on so much because he took the American Dream away from me.
Many dark years followed my acceptance of Jesus into my heart. I made bad choice after bad choice. I hated the world. And the thought of ever having a family was very far from my mind. In fact, the idea of marriage repulsed me.
When I was 19 years old, I cried out to Jesus and told him I could no longer live my life the way it was going. I needed to change and I needed His help to do so. That next day, my entire life changed for the better. God sent away every bad thing in my life and used my husband--a friend who was no longer talking to me because of my bad choices--to draw me closer to him.
It took many years to learn forgiveness and even longer to make peace with the past. Marrying my husband and then a move to Oklahoma helped. God is still changing me for the better today. But I have never forgotten where my journey started all those years ago. At six years old, I knew God was real. Six years later, I would accept him into my life for good. And seven years after that, I would cry out in my darkest hour and he would rescue me. Then, he would use my life to minister to others in ways I never could have imagined.
It's been a long journey and I have weathered numerous storms. God has not always answered my prayers, but he has always comforted me when I was in need. My life is not easy, though it may appear that way sometimes. There are--and will always be--hard times to work through. But there is one thing I know beyond a shadow of a doubt: God loves me. God accepts me. God uses me for his glory day in and day out. And though I fall short, he will never abandon me.
I haven't always lived my life the way I should have. And my actions have not always reflected the person that I have become today. But I'm grateful I'm forgiven and free from the chains of anger, bitterness and resentment.
My greatest hope is that I'm living a life now that shows my father Jesus can heal broken hearts, broken relationships, and broken dreams. And that one day soon he makes a decision about his own faith.
When my father walked out the front door, he gave me an eternity in Heaven--something I am so undeserving of. I hope that one day, I can give him the same gift in return.
"A holy life will produce the deepest impression. Lighthouses blow no horns; they only shine." --D.L. Moody
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