“Oh, I’m sorry, I made a mistake. I’ll have to ring you up all over again.”
I was tired and hungry. The old me would have made a face, rolled my eyes and exhaled a disgruntled sigh. But the new me calmly said, “You mean you’re not perfect?”
“Nope. Don’t know anyone who is, do you?”
I perked up. “Matter of fact, I do.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
The salesperson shook her head and smirked. “Yeah, but you don’t know him personally.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
“Through Jesus Christ.”
She continued rescanning my items as if she hadn’t heard.
For an evangelical Christian, this couldn’t have been scripted better. But I got stage fright and failed to deliver my last line: “Want to know more?” I chastised myself for days afterward because not too long ago, I was that woman. And maybe she is you -- believing God is unknowable.
Raised a secular Jew, my knowledge of Jesus Christ was limited to my father’s expletives. As I matured, I was drawn to ouija boards, seances and psychics, anything supernatural. But never equating “supernatural” with God. Until eight years ago, when I witnessed undeniable miracles surrounding my brother’s death. So I began attending church, determined to find the God who enabled them.
When I used to hear preachers talk about “sinners,” I thought they were referring to rapists and murderers, not to me. But I learned that the original Greek word for “sin” is “Hamartia,” which means missing the mark. Or falling short of perfection. Who can say they’ve never cheated, never lied? And I learned that the Bible is history, not hokum, and it says “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). So I also learned that I was a sinner, and Jesus Christ came “to take away the sin of the world“ (John 1:29). And that “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Who doesn’t want eternal life? And with all my intellectual striving, I couldn’t get past the empty tomb or the fact that Jesus’ disciples, plain ordinary men, died martyrs’ deaths. So I took the leap and believed.
When I did, the only thing I can compare it to is when my daughter was first placed on my chest: my heart exploded. I have since been freed from alcoholism and paralytic fears of flying and public speaking, proving that “if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).
I have not been brain-washed or influenced by a cult. I am a sixty-year-old well-educated woman who has finally found The Truth. And He says, “If you knew me, you would know my Father also” (John 8:19).
You can know God personally. And now I get to deliver that last line: