Missy Robinson, now a young adult, assumed the role of antagonist. She questioned her faith.
Little Missy Robinson was nurtured in a Christian home. Everyone had helped her in the faith. The faith which was neatly packaged in a box, wrapped in colorful paper. Tied with bows, that the work of the hands Faith was wrapped in was beautifully and intelligently decorated. When she opened it, there would be no need to know more. No need for asking. But to simply get along with the rest -- accepting the Faith nicely.
Sunday-church was when she dressed-up with matching ribbons tied on her neatly combed curls. So she loved those days. Her smiles dimpled her cute little face twinned her motherís smiling ones. Since the conception of creche, little Missy would be the potential Sunday-School teacher when she grew up. If, they trained her well with proper theology.
Her church family enjoyed the epitome of holiness. She was too little to understand that, of course. Her Grandpa, the pastor, and the rest of the clan took pride and pleasure in the title that tied them lavishly to the traditional autocracy of their churchís leader.
Missy heard about God on the image Grandpa conceived in her mind. Succession of traditional hand-me-down theology was of no consequence to little Missy and of those responsible. Apart from their close-tied theology and only-one translation of the Bible, all else was heresy.
A fully trained belief system within Missyís growing up years was untouchable.
Little Missy was no longer small. She began to question her own integrity as one older in the Christian faith. Thinking had become significant to her. She couldnít part with knowledge she enjoyed. She wanted to understand those ties presented to her twenty-one years ago about faith. Faith in God? That was a new thing to believe. She had always believed in God. But, why is it believing now, felt so, different. Exciting was the word. How could she break loose that bound her to think for herself? Now?
Besides, where would she go?
She ought to know better, she felt the pull and tug in her soul. Missy felt a new belief in God, which began to surface in a different sort of way.
For twenty-one years, cut-and-paste theology badged the faith of her denominational teachers to her own.
Nearly choked her.
But God knew. He had been sifting through some baggage from her life she could not point a finger at. But it was a load bagged on her young back. Missy felt guilty when thrilled at what she was seeing-- the unceasing wonders God was showing for her to believe more.
The cords of old perspective about God wanted them completely released. But, where was the voice coming from? Grandpa said that God spoke only through dads, pastors, and elders of her church.
Missyís upbringing of the cut-and-dry-for-all doctrinal code of behavior rebelled within her. It was snugly in the woolen-wrapped surface-religion. But why did she feel that it was so cold and stifling in there? Her best friend left the fold, unforgiven. If Missy did, would her Grandpa let loose the bind off her, and let her seek God for herself? Would she be forgiven?
Missy took a chance at asking God.
Her slowly-getting-stronger belief in a willing and close-abounding God fastened her securely. Far better than the intelligently decorated box, which God would not fit-in. He is much bigger than everything anyone could impossibly box and knot. A tell-tale religion which sadly cinched Missy being a witch, a rebel, a rocking-the-boat.
"Thus says Yahweh, Don't let the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, don't let the rich man glory in his riches;
"but let him who glories glory in this, that he has understanding, and knows me, that I am Yahweh who exercises loving kindness, justice, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, says Yahweh."
Missyís faith in God from the whole counsel of His Word unified her spirit with God. It was liberating. Humbling. That, if it were not through Godís Son's sacrificial blood-sacrifice, she and the denomination she anchored her young Christian life with, would never have the chance in life!
Love also grew.
Grateful Missy continued to thank the Author of the Bible for insisting upon her to question her faith. God fully knew and understood.
And girded herself safely with God in His Believer's Instruction .
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