Bologna sandwich anyone? | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Bologna sandwich anyone? | Previous Challenge Entry
By Emily Ritter
04/26/07
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“God…!” I wailed quietly between sobs that shivered my body I held with crossed arms.

“God…! If that love exists, I want to experience it! Oh God, please, your way, fully and completely, and how ever you want, but God, oh please let me experience it!” Waves of hiccupped breathing shook over me, and I felt freed to lay it out on the table, and admit to God that I didn’t know the way.

It was March 11th, or 12th if you’re one of them people that counts the day starting at midnight, when I felt like it was midday. My eyes were fresh and my mind ready, but what for? I scooted my trusty cushioned seat up to the screen of my Dell and clicked through internet searches to fill the still hours of night. I wound up finding something I did want to write about. A neat, free dating site allowed me to pass the hours in the dimmed, sleepy-eyed bliss of devoting a page to M-E. It worked too…filled up most of the hours of that strange Saturday night that I spent awake. But on two hours of sleep, I decided to follow through on what I had promised; I went to church with a couple I’d met at the restaurant.

Right after church that Sunday we were in another restaurant ordering light afternoon salads when the question hit,

“Have you ever accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”

“No,” I quickly and politely answered.

From deadened eyes the man joined in, “What would you tell God so He would let you into heaven if you were to die today?”

My mind rushed with horror. The pastor’s words rung on my ears, “You can’t get to heaven by being good,” and still I said,

“I’d tell God that I’m a good person and I’ve always followed my heart” yada yada yada…I spoke in circles. My words seemed to smack me in the face and fall dead in the middle of the table. After twenty minutes and not a bite eaten I said,

“I know why I’ve never accepted Christianity.”

“Why?” four faces stared at me.

“Because I’m not O.K. with the idea of people I know and love going to hell.” Immediately everyone at my table began to cry, gasp for breath even, and there was an understanding.

I turned my radio up on the drive home, escaping the home of the couple who’d all but mentioned I was going to Hell. And God was there. Right on the dash of my car…and even on the dial of the radio as I turned it thinking God wasn’t talking to me like I guessed He might have been. I fought it, accused them, and ran in circles in my head…until Christ granted me mercy. Like two platters in front of me, Heaven and Hell, one making no sense at all and one feeling as I’ve felt since I can recall, I chose Heaven…for who can resist the feeling of sheer joy pointing its finger at your heart in comparison to a bologna sandwich that tastes fattening and salty, familiar, but clearly leading to a slow eternal death? And Christ stood with me, and in me. And when I stood to walk, it felt like water.

“You were pursued by God,” my sister said, tears streaming down her cheeks in truth.

Just over a year after that day, a friend showed me what had happened. God had answered my cry.

“And He did too, He is our true love,” she said as we stood in the parking lot after work.

A moment passed, and half another before my hands shot straight up in the air in disbelief and amazement!

“Oh!” I loudly whispered through chuckles, “You’re right!” I smiled shaking my head at the fact that I hadn’t realized this earlier. “He is our true love! Amen! Amen!”

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