The first words that come to mind when writing this are the words to the song I'm a Believer by Smash Mouth, thank you Shrek. I am a believer.
I'm a believer of good music. I'm a believer of the Avengers. I'm a believer that Bath and Body Works smells like heaven. I'll even take it a step further and publicly declare that I'm a Belieber, and not just the bandwagoner, but the belieber that was there through all the awkward Justin phases and stuck it out.
I'm a believer of Christ.
I'm a believer that there's still good out there in the world. I'm a believer that there's better for the homeless and the orphans and foster kids who are being mistreated by the broken system. I'm a believer for my role model's son, who since being born, has not uttered a single word.
I'm a believer... just not for myself.
I have a better chance of believing that someone will be cured of a terminal illness than I do of me getting that big break I've been asking for. And I wonder, doesn't that make me a bad Christian? I can believe in God for someone else but not for myself?
I'll be transparent here for a few seconds. My relationship with God has been on and off since high school. When I was a sophomore, I watched my family slowly fall apart. We were always tight when we were kids, but when we all left the lovely comforts of home to face the high school boarding life, everybody changed. I began seeing, right in front of my own eyes, everything we'd built just fall apart. It was devastating. And for the first time, I felt my faith being tested.
I didn't know how else to handle it, so I started slowly pulling away. I stopped going to church, because it felt hypocritical. It came to a point where I wanted nothing to do with God. I still believed He existed, and that He was there for everybody else. Just not me. And I completely shut Him out.
But the amazing thing about my Father is He never did pull away. Through my school, and some discerning discipleship, I slowly found my way back.
Fast forward a few years later, and I'm a senior in college. It's the fall semester and all I can think about is, what is my future? Where am I going to be come May 2018? I must have prayed everyday for God to show me where He was taking me, what I was going to do after graduating, and... nothing. People kept reminding me of Jeremiah 29:11, and even though I knew the verse to heart, I couldn't shake this gut feeling that I wasn't hearing anything from Him.
May approached and it was frightening. Here I was, 12 days away from leaving a place I had called home for 4 years, and still... nothing. No job, no place to live. I still heard nothing. After making a few last minute arrangements that probably prevented an ulcer, I had three months of living arrangements taken care of.
Things were once again on track and I felt a glimmer of hope, in the uncertainty. The summer was amazing, I was on the right track with God and things were starting to look up. Until July 5, when I felt the rug pulled out from under me. I stood in the farmhouse in College Station, looking at the words on my phone that broke any aspirations I had.
It was like watching my life go down the drain and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't see anything beyond the present, it hurt to even think of the next day. And the same people said, He has a plan for you. But this time, I had an answer. I had a choice not to believe it. So I told some of my friends, don't tell me that. I was tired of listening for something that no longer made sense to me. Reality was harsh, and I was going to face it head on.
But facing it head on left me a mess. It left me hopeless. And about a month and a half later, when I felt I had literally nothing left to lose, I saw this post on Instagram about this man in Tulsa,OK preaching on the series, Planted Not Buried. I was still icing God out so I ignored the post only to see the same post a few days later by a different friend. And I've always believed that if I see or hear something twice, that's no coincidence.
So, I told myself, 'you've got nothing to lose, might as well watch a 40 minute sermon, and see what happens.' And I started watching it. I kid you not, when he began the sermon asking questions about what the congregation was going through, my answer to every single question was yes. In short, I went through the entire series, one lesson a week. I slowly started letting God back in, and even though there are days I get so mad at Him, I'm still working on my relationship with Him. I'm currently watching the series Marked by the same pastor, Mike Todd.
There are days when I'm a believer, not just for others, but for myself too. Then there are days when I'm not. You can call it how you see it. But this is my prayer.
That on my worst day, He doesn't love me a fraction less.
On my worst day, I choose to believe this.
That I choose to believe for myself.
That like the boy's father, Mark 9:24, I'll choose to say, I believe, help my unbelief.