This weekend I did something I rarely do: I spoke. In public. Such is my overwhelming discomfort at public speaking that I even have a hard time typing it.
Now my blood pressure is going up. Someone grab a paper bag.
You might be wondering why I put myself in that position, knowing in advance how I felt about it. The reason is, I hoped it would be helpful for the girls I was speaking to. My testimony (fancy Christian term for ‘the circumstances surrounding your journey to Christ’) involves lots of issues that people that age are either going through or have friends who are going through, and it was my hope that sharing my story would bring them hope.
It went spectacularly well. There were quite a few people praying for me and, according to the group leaders I spoke with afterward, my story touched a chord with the people it needed to.
As you can imagine, I spent a lot of time thinking about my story in the week leading up to Saturday. It got me thinking about the term “Born Again Christian.”
I’d always thought this term sounded fuzzy and nice, but now that I think about it for a moment I realize it’s anything but. Birth is difficult for everybody. As a mother who’s been fortunate enough to give birth to two children, I can attest to this. It was tough both times. But not just for me.
If you do any research into birth at all, you’ll find that babies have a lot of work to do when they’re born. Taking that first breath, figuring out how to operate in a world that is the polar opposite of everything they’ve ever known. Poor buggers are tired after just a few minutes of that.
I realized it’s kind of the same when you accept Christ, especially if you’ve spent a good portion of your life not believing. There’s nothing fuzzy about it. Up is down, left is right. It’s hard work.
So that was my big revelation this weekend. I think it’s funny that the talk I gave was supposed to be for the benefit of the girls and instead I’m the one who walked away with a new realization. Oops.