Speak to Me

There was a saying that I used to hear growing up in the Methodist church and I absolutely detested it from the first moment I heard it. "Ladies and Gentlemen, during the worst most unbearable moments of our lives, all we have to do is give it over to Jesus." I heard it a lot. In a lot of different sermons. In a lot of different seasons. Lent. Pentacost. Christmas. Easter. I never liked it. It wasn't what I ever needed to hear. I believed in Christ and I believed in God with my entire being, but I never saw it as "giving it over to Jesus". I shared my issues with God, and I prayed for help when I needed it. I always knew I didn't have to explain things to God because Christ was within me. Enough said.

Then I went to college and began this crazy quest I'm on. I started going to a Catholic church in November. I instantly felt welcomed there and I started to think that maybe this time I'd ended up at the right place. The services were solemn and different than anything I'd ever experienced as a Christian. I prayed every day, "Is this right God? Can I have a sign, please?" I didn't get a sign. After several church services I decided to convert to Catholicism. Like flipping a light switch. I went to my first confirmation class on Monday. I went to bed and prayed more then ever, "Is this right?? Seriously, I don't know why I'm being led here but there must be a reason (right???)" Still no sign. I woke up on Tuesday and went about my day, but through every class, through every lecture, through every trip back upstairs to the practice room, I was thinking about catholicism. About Mary and the Saints and hell and everything just swirled endlessly like I was completely losing control of my beliefs.

That night I walked to Murphy Hall. I stood outside the building and called someone I loved and told them that I couldn't become catholic. I was laughing into the cell phone, casually making jokes, and before I knew what I was doing, I started crying. And I completely lost it. The person on the other end of the line just listened to me try repeatedly to catch my breath and talk again. It was like every emotion I'd felt in the last twenty four hours was suddenly pouring out of me, like the final drop in the full water bucket that finally tips it over. I was happy because I suddenly felt free to once again embrace my original beliefs, but I was scared that I had come so close to selling my soul to a denomination that was wrong for me. It was like my mind had become temporarily brain-washed, yet I was the master of it all and I had somehow brought it all upon myself. Ten minutes later, the person on the phone finally said something that I needed to hear. They told me that maybe it was time to let God figure it out for me. That maybe it was time to give it over to God instead of letting it lie heavy within me. The quest needed to be paused momentarily. It was time to give it over to a higher power, to the force that sent me on this quest. My sign had come and it had come within my own thoughts. Within my own misery, God had finally spoken to me.

I guess you could say that I finally "gave it over to Jesus". I'm letting it lie for awhile, letting the source take control of my destiny as it always has.

God does not play dice with the universe.