Falling for Him — From the Inside Out

I wrote the following for Internet Cafe Devotions' "Falling for Jesus" contest. Click their button on the right to read others' entries and to check out this great site.


I knew all about Him—this guy named Jesus. I sang songs, memorized Scripture and watched stories re-enacted in dramas. I envisioned Him a rescuer of fair maidens and figured sooner or later He’d sweep me off my feet. The emotions from Vacation Bible School, summer camp and youth group retreat fueled my young faith. But when the happy feelings faded it seemed Jesus disappeared too. Leaving behind the same old me.

Entering adulthood poor Prince Charming Jesus didn’t stand a chance against my burgeoning intellect. So I packed Him away alongside Barbie and Ken and the other mementos of my youth. Fondly remembered but no longer useful. Skepticism crept in.

In time skepticism turned to outright cynicism. For years I wandered far from Jesus.

Until about six years ago when I found myself in Alpha, a ten-week program for those questioning Christianity. People like me. We started with the basic principles of the Christian faith and I found my disbelief was fueled more by ignorance than intellect. I began to understand who Jesus really is and why He had to die.

Then one week at Alpha, I heard a verse that changed everything. “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20, NIV)

To illustrate we viewed the famous painting, Light of the World. In it Jesus stands knocking on a door overgrown with vines, however the door’s only handle is on the inside.

Finally, I was beginning to get it.

How foolish I’d been. I wasn’t a modern-day Rapunzel. I was a stubborn, willful girl whose Prince had already rescued her at Calvary. No matter how far I'd strayed He’d been standing outside the door of my heart, waiting—patiently.

A few weeks later at the Alpha retreat we held an afternoon of intimate, one-on-one prayer. Sacred music played quietly as the small group leaders prayed with each participant scattered around the dimly-lit room.

Nervous yet excited for this unknown experience, I prayed to Jesus, this new guest in my life. From somewhere deep inside a wave of emotion—pure and spontaneous—enveloped me. Without knowing exactly why I started to cry. But they were tears of joy. Of beauty. Of forgiveness. Of truth. The quiet sobs and sniffles of others told me I wasn’t alone.

Soon my small group leader came alongside and listened to my prayer requests. He laid hands on me and lifted up my requests, asking the Holy Spirit to come. As he prayed it felt like lava flowed from his hands, into my head and through my body. Heat radiated. I was filled. Invigorated. Transformed. The crying turned to sobs. How long I’d wandered—lost. And now I’d finally found my way home.

What I’d always feared would be a leap of faith into an abyss was really a step into the waiting arms of a Savior. By His amazing grace and the power of the Holy Spirit Jesus took me to the mountaintop. There He removed the scales and gave me eyes to see. He instilled a thirst that’s yet to be quenched. And He filled the hole inside that’s shaped just for Him. I felt like Moses—radiant from the encounter.

What seemed like minutes was actually hours and when our prayer time ended, I sat speechless and spent. I wanted to rest in that moment forever. To bask in Jesus’ consuming love.

That afternoon marked the close of one door and the opening of another—one that I’d opened from the inside. It was as Paul said, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NIV). Scripture came alive. Praise music stirred my soul. Sunday worship joined my heart with His. I was truly, madly, deeply in love!

And I still am. Oh, to know Him—this guy named Jesus.

Reflections on Summer Camp

“Ahhh!” I’m enjoying an extremely rare afternoon home alone. Just me, my cat and my dog. And because my family is happily elsewhere, I have no guilt I’m neglecting anyone.

On Sunday I dropped my daughter off at camp for the week. She’s gone to this camp, that’s affiliated with our church, for several years and just loves it. Her week at camp has become a highlight of each summer. As soon as we arrived, she started to re-connect with camp friends and counselors from past years. As a mom, it filled my heart with joy to see her so happy and confident. (For a teenager, that’s saying something! :-)

Of course, she didn’t want me to linger, so I was subtly, but quickly shooed back to my car. I drove home happy to have some time alone, but most of all happy that camps like this exist. Places where our children can be independent and have an experience that’s all their own; places where they can find a home away from home; and places where they can meet Jesus up close and personal.

When I reflect on my life, I see the weeks I spent at summer camp had the biggest impact on my faith and left some of the fondest memories of my childhood. Through the scenery, the songs, the friendships, the teachings and the adventures I met Jesus and experienced the Truth of the gospel.

But for so many years as an adult, I walked in darkness, away from the Lord. I buried the Truth under a pile of cynicism, intellectualism, doubt, self-sufficiency and false knowledge. But even under weight of all it all the Truth remained. Until one day I was ready to let go of the “junk” and open the door to Jesus. And I found He’d been there all along.

There are so many wonderful Christian camps all over the country. The one I attended is still going strong, thanks to the vision and obedience of its founder (who passed away this year). I offer a prayer of thanks to the faithful men and women who, through the years, have answered God’s call to start and run these camps. I pray the Spirit fuels their passion. I lift up the teenage counselors who love the Lord and dedicate their summers to teach, protect, love, nurture and share Jesus with the youngsters who enter their cabins (or tents) each week. And I ask a special blessing on the campers, some of whom may not be that happy about being at camp. I pray that the Truth of the Good News is planted deeply into each one of their hearts—even if those seeds don’t produce fruit for many years to come.

The media and casual conversations like to portray young people and the time in which we live as “so much worse than theyused to be.” I just don’t believe that’s true. Evil exists, as it has since the beginning. But, goodness does too and it will always be.

Through it all Jesus stands at the door of our hearts, waiting for us to let Him in.

Go to camp and you just might find the handle to open the door.

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” —Revelation 3:20