soar_high76's journal
Christ's forgiveness is never earned, only accepted. Being sorry for my sins will not make me more forgiven than I already was. The Cross was a complete and done business. It is to save the lost, to right the wrong and to make holy people from unholy beings.
I can never give a date to that question. My earliest memories consisted of children’s Sunday school and VBS across rivers and up in the mountains because that was where my father’s flock was. Books have been my constant companion ever since I learned how to read. The bible didn’t go unnotice in my young eyes. I ignored the laws and the poems but I jumped from one story to another. It was an exciting book for my unbridled imagination. I literally grew up in the church.
Ideal? No. In the fallen state of this world, you cannot have everything going for you as perfectly as you would think it to be. Growing up, my family struggled financially. Pray. That was always my parents’ answer to every sentence we said that started with “I want”. There were times when I just kept quiet when I needed something and ignored my wants.
If you’re a pastor’s kid, you’re expected to behave. It’s like an unwritten rule etched on everybody’s brain, except on the kid’s brain itself. The term was like a dark cloud that loomed over me, sinister, ready to strike with bolts of lightning whenever I misbehave. I loathed the label. I thought I should have been asked if I wanted my father to be a pastor or not. I believed I was being subjected to a very unfair situation.
I’m blessed to have a mother and a father who bathe me in prayer. According to my parents, I am their tithe. They’ve been there for me ready to give encouragement, to correct and even whack me every once in a while. Even when I gave birth to a son out of wedlock, my parents and my other three siblings were the first one to care for me. Sure, I disappointed them, but they didn’t give up on me. Being a single mother stirs mixed feelings inside me. I am humbled and yet I’m proud of my son. What sort of a tithe am I? You might be asking. I know God is not finished with me yet. Daiks, my son, is a constant reminder that I need God’s grace to continue living without condemnation.
Through it all though, there’s one recurring theme in my life. Christlikeness. I’ve wanted to mirror Jesus’ character since I was a child. Even my favorite song as a kid reflected that desire. I don’t have a Road to Damascus conversion like Apostle Paul. Mine is a gradual process. I slip and slide every now and then. But God has been gracious and loving. Every experience I’ve been through, good and bad alike, contribute to where I am now spiritually.
I am not afraid anymore to be called a pastor’s kid. I mean really, do I have a choice? Kidding aside though, I realize that all of us, pastor’s kid or not, will go through the same judgment when we face God. Each of us is responsible to how we act and what we do with the gift of salvation that Christ sacrificed for us.
“So, when was your spiritual birth, again?”
Errr… next question, please.