On My Knees

It isn't for the moment you are struck that you need courage but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security.

                                                                      - Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I was feeling slightly insane, wavering in my faith, and insecure.

The moment those feelings were "struck" into me came as I began my senior year with a Women and Religion class. This class is full of women (and a few men) who are very intelligent and different from me.

Usually, I find this environment refreshing.

Not this time.

This time it was personal. This time it was draining: mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

This time it was frightening. Because this time it was messing with my faith. 

I have been learning about pre-history and the religions before Christianity. I have been taught to question all truth, even whether there is any truth. I have been surrounded by those who call their gods "She." I have listened to people bash my religion and point out nothing positive, simply flaw. After flaw. After flaw.

The scary part was I understood - and agreed with - some of their points. I trust in my teacher's knowledge. I have studied and read her textbooks about goddesses.

I have questioned my faith, my God, my role as a Bible study leader.

And worst of all, I told NO ONE.

I didn't want to burden them with a problem I couldn't solve. I didn't want them to have the same struggle if I couldn't help them out of it. I feared their judgment for my wavering faith. So I kept these thoughts to myself.

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Until this weekend. And that is when I began my hopefully not too "long uphill climb."

This weekend was the Charleston Baptist Collegiate Ministry Fall Retreat. I went knowing I needed to go but not knowing how much it would affect me.

Before I give you the detail of when I hit my lowest low, here is some background information:

• My homechurch is over 200 years old filled with several traditional people, many of whom are old, all of whom are subdued in their worship style: aka if anyone says "Amen" in the middle of the sermon, we all turn his or her way and glare as if to suggest they should lay off the coffee next Sunday. It is just too much. We're quiet and keep things simple, assuming that showy worship of waving your hands around and shouting is insincere. 

• Well, upon getting to know other believers in college and how they worshiped, I realized one can be showy and sincere in praising God. In fact, it was an encouragement for me to see them raise their hands. When I finally worked up the guts and sincere desire to attempt this on my own, I was nearly sweating and my heart was beating fast but once I got past my nerves, I realized it heightened my own worship. So now, as I feel moved, I will raise my hands.
• Also, I have been trying to figure out how to make prayer a conversation: not just me rambling but also listening for God. My favorite description for his response is a still, small voice putting a crystal clear thought into your mind that was not yours, but simply was placed on your heart out of nowhere. I agree with that.

So, back to the BCM retreat.

We had wonderfully powerful music, enhanced especially by all of the Citadel cadets with their deep voices and clapping as we sang along. One song we sang was Indescribable with a lyric that says "Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim/ You are amazing God."

I had a still, small voice whisper: "That would be cool. I think I'd like to do that; it might elevate my worship like when I started raising my hands."

Enter my active thoughts: "Yes, that could be cool BUT certainly not here. Too many people. I mean I don't want to be all trying too hard or distracting people. Yea, maybe... someday..."

Without a second thought, I continued singing songs until  a few things formed the final cracks in my emotional dam: hearing our leader use words like "battle" and reading through the Lord's prayer about "Lead us not into temptation/ But deliver us from evil," etc.

My emotional dam broke. Warm tears poured from my eyes.

I don't usually cry. I quickly tried to regain my composure but it was melting away like much of my mascara. 

I walked to the front of the room where our Prayer Team leader was sitting in a chair. I don't know why but she pulled me to the ground. At that moment, I was at my lowest point, physically and emotionally and spiritually.

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We sat on our knees as she hugged me and prayed for me and read me a few perfectly relevant pieces of scripture.I admitted my fears and my doubts and I let my tears flow.

Once I regained composure I stood to leave but before I could get to the end of the front row, another lady reached for me which I was totally not expecting but graciously welcomed. She hugged me and began praying for me.

However, the way that she grabbed me brought my upper body in for a hug but left my butt awkwardly in the air so, without realizing it, to fix this...

I fell to my knees. 

It wasn't until later after she finished praying for me and I had returned to my seat that I put all of this together. I never had the intention to do any of that, nor did I even want to. But at that point, not even an hour after I had heard that whispered thought, I had fallen to my knees not once but twice, humbled before the Lord in prayer and worship. 

I was like, "Ok, God. I got it. You're there. To me, you are truth and you are real and you are worthy of praise."

Better yet, we sang You Alone Can Rescue with the perfect lyrics for my situation. 

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As I begin this "uphill climb" I realize that I don't have all of the answers yet and I am certain all of my doubts are not disappearing any time soon, but I am also certain of my faith.

If I had all the answers it would be called FACT, not FAITH.

But I do feel certain that with God, the acceptance and support and prayer from fellow believers, and with patience I will one day make it back to the top of the hill, "back to sanity and faith and security."