How God Saved Me: An Easter Story

Growing up, I heard the gospel (the good news that Jesus came to forgive us) from every angle: from my parents, church, story books, vacation Bible school, evangelists, and even Christian children’s records. Yes, records. I’m that old. But somehow my takeaway was always, “Pray this prayer the right way with enough sincerity, cross your fingers that you did it right, and hopefully you’ll make it to heaven.”

A Conflict of Expectations

I loved my church and family. They never made me feel like I had to dress, act, read, or live a certain way to be accepted by God. Thank God for that! Later on I went to a Christian school and university. Many folks there were kind and sincere. Others came across, in my perception, as shallow and rules-driven without a love for God as their motivation.

I was thrown for a loop when I heard their stance on certain external expectations about how I should dress, what I should listen to, and how they thought I needed live. I knew plenty of people who loved God whole-heartedly and yet didn’t follow these rules—my parents included. Was my family living in sin, or were my teachers wrong? I spent a lot of time thinking and praying through questions like these.

Shadows of Doubt

But ultimately, my real problem wasn’t in my schools; it was in my heart. I’d been trying to seek God my whole life, had been reading my Bible daily since I was in junior high, and I thought I might be a missionary when I grew up. I’d prayed the “salvation prayer” countless times and had even been baptized in elementary. But when evangelists would come to my church and say, “You can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re going to heaven when you die,” I always felt both skeptical and sad. There was no way someone could know that for sure. It was all a matter of the sincerity of your prayer, and you could never know if you were sincere enough.  

In late high school, I started having questions about God himself. As I read the Bible and saw different facets of God’s character, I liked some of them, and I distrusted others. I started questioning his goodness, and eventually I questioned his reality. That was a dark place to be when I was surrounded by people who really seemed to believe this stuff. So I kept reading my Bible and praying, hoping that I would feel sure about my relationship with God one of these days.

Something I Was Missing

After I graduated from college with a degree in education, God re-routed my life out of the blue: he sent me from Michigan to Texas. I’d volunteered to help with paperwork in a Christian school office for three weeks while I figured out what I really wanted to do. But when I arrived, I fell in love with the people, the ministry, and their unique heart for God. The principal, his brother, and their wives had something I was missing: a joyful, confident, deep, humble, and personal relationship with God. Without doubts. How could this be?

The more I spent time with them, the more I wanted what they had. I extended my three-week stay to a semester, then a year, then another year. My second year there is when God stopped playing around and finally wrecked me. I had a ton of free time after teaching high school that year, and I spent it reading theology books, listening to sermons online, studying my Bible, and jogging while memorizing scripture. Not because I had to or thought I should, but because I wanted to. And God took that opportunity to remake me.

Meeting Jesus

God started convicting me of sin. Like, every little sin toward other people, in my heart, and on my tongue. I’d thought I was a pretty nice person until then. Now I saw my heart in the dazzling light of God’s holiness, and it was nasty. Nothing but pride from top to bottom. God was showing me my deep brokenness, and it shocked me.

The final blow came at Easter. I had been reading all four gospel accounts simultaneously leading up to Holy Week, and I reached the last supper, arrest, trial, crucifixion, and resurrection right at Easter weekend. I remember sitting alone in the sunshine on top of an overlook tower at my favorite nature preserve. Tears were rolling down my face as I finally saw Jesus’ death and resurrection with fresh eyes. He—this man who was God—did this for broken, dirty hearts like mine. On purpose! The Jesus I saw in my little, orange New Testament was someone I’d heard about all my life, but I felt like I’d never met him until that moment. Suddenly, I didn’t just know him; I loved him.

No More Doubts

And from that time on, I knew what people meant when they said, “You can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you know God.” I did know God. It wasn’t a question; it was a fact. I knew him like I knew my own dad—deeply, personally, for real. God had changed me, melted my heart of stone, and given me a heart of flesh. I knew for certain that I hadn’t changed myself. It was God.

Did I truly “get saved” on that overlook, or had God answered my prayers when I was younger? When was the real time I went from darkness to light? I’m not sure, and I’m just fine with that. God is writing my story, and I’m just along for the ride. My whole life will be a fight against pride, apathy, and just plain stupidity, but God is faithful. I can’t wait to see him some day, and I hope I’ll see you there, too.