The summer after the sixth grade, when I was 11, I went to a Christian camp for one week. It was at this camp that, for the first time in my life, I began to understand sin. God also showed me my pride and my arrogance. It was ugly, upsetting, and disconcerting. Also, for the first time, I learned that my life was to reflect Jesus.

Every summer I looked forward to returning to that camp. It was there that I learned about Scripture, personal holiness, and a very strong and powerful God. The teaching I received at this camp changed me. I honestly wanted to be the best Christian I could be. I wanted to be light and salt. Only in very recent years have I recognized God's incredible grace to me, His very long arm that rescued me from the sins of the world by teaching me life-changing truths in that fun summer camp.

I had never had reason to question what I had been taught or what I believed until I was 20. At that time my Christian parents' marriage began to fall apart, and so did my faith. Gradually, I began to lose confidence in God. As I watched my parents go the way of the world, I was shaken to the core. I wondered, "Were they really Christians? Were they going to hell?" You see, my religion was their religion.

During this time I learned that the Christian talk (the words of Scripture) did not always match the walk (Christ lived out in our lives). I heard my mom say that her pot-smoking friends at work truly cared about her, but the people at church showed no care. I also experienced some of that apathy in the church when I tried to get help for my mother during this time. The lack of care Christians showed others in the body of Christ was disconcerting to me.

Despite the emotional turmoil, I continued to go to church each week, but only out of a sense of obligation. I wasn't ready to publicly forsake God, so I continued to set a good example for His sake. Also deep down, I knew there was no true life anywhere else in the world; it was God or nothing. I knew the things of the world were a lie and a lure, and I was truly afraid of sin and its consequences.

As my world was crumbling and I was shaken to the core, I was sure God's ways were not working for me. I began to question my own salvation, my own beliefs. I was confused, fearful, and angry, and I was rapidly losing all hope. I was full of fear of God, and I was full of anger towards God.

Keeping in line with my belief that I needed to maintain God's reputation and save myself from His wrath, I became a Pharisee. At the time, I obviously didn't understand God's contempt for Pharisees, but I was full of pride, and pride drives the Pharisee. I lived the externals to avoid criticism from within myself and from others. My objective was to look good, to be respected, and to stay strong. I had no desire to be a weak vessel for Christ to live through. Being a weak vessel might be good for Paul or Peter, but I wanted to be strong for God; I wanted to be found worthy.

By my mid-twenties, I was a seriously confused person. I was full of shame, not at all confident, but you would never know it by looking at my life. I became very involved in my church, always doing, doing, doing. My husband became a leader in our church, but his position only intensified my stress and my shame. My life was a lie. On the outside I was living a life that should result from faith in Jesus Christ, but I believed little. In my mind, God had not been there for me. I had concluded I was a less favored child of His, if that, so I avoided Him and rarely talked to Him. My works were totally motivated by fear and self-preservation, not by love and gratitude for God.

Over the next five years, little by little, God chipped away at my facade. Then, when I was ready, when I was begging for His friendship, He let me break into a billion pieces. God doesn't expose us until He has made us ready, and I had been locked up tight. All I could think was, "Oh dear, I am really messing up God's image. I must really be embarrassing Him." And after that thought took its toll, the next thought was, "OK God, you will have to prove yourself if you are so big and strong. I can't cover for you anymore. You're on your own!" I really did try with every single ounce of my own strength, my own wherewithal, and my own wits, to put myself together again, but I couldn't. I had been checkmated by God.

It was during this time that I came to understand oppression. My thoughts were so oppressive I couldn't stand it. The condemnation I felt was horrific. The many lies in my mind were being exposed, my thoughts were horrible, and the emotional pain was incredible. Given a choice, I would have chosen to be dead. Nothing could fix me: not money, not people, not a vacation. Fortunately, I knew to stay away from alcohol, but I desperately needed relief. I remember lying on the couch listening to quiet music in an attempt to get some relief, and I would literally writhe. And that was an improvement to leaving the music off. I was totally incapacitated. I felt like a prisoner locked up in myself.

Every day, every week, every month, for two to three years I cried out to God in anguish, guilt, and feelings of condemnation and worthlessness. "I can't perform anymore. I'm doing nothing except surviving. I'm wasting my childrens' lives too! I send them to their rooms for a major chunk of the afternoon. I need to produce! I need to feel okay! I need relief in my mind!" I was desperate to produce in order to feel good about myself.

Then I heard God speak, and this is what He spoke to my heart and to my mind. "It's okay, it's okay. I don't want you doing anything right now. I'm not putting any demands on you."

But I couldn't relax and my mind screamed, "But if people at church knew! "

And then I would hear God's gentle words, "I'm happy with you. You are crying out to me. You are doing exactly what I want."

But the screaming continued, "But I'm not doing anything!"

And more of God's gentle words would come, "You're looking to me. I am happy with you. You know how you see evidences of Me everywhere you go. I am pleased with you. I am revealing myself to you. I am your friend. You are learning to trust me. I will be good to you."

These conversations between God and I were endless. I can't believe how kind God was to me. He always spoke extremely gently to me in the midst of the screams in my head. He always told me He wanted my heart and my trust.

He also told me, "You are complete in Christ." At first, in disbelief, but then gradually in acceptance, my response was, "I am? Really?" Then again the reassuring words, "You are complete in Christ."

Also, He would speak, "Christ in you, the hope of glory." In disbelief, my response, "But, I'm a wreck. And again He would say, "Christ in you, the hope of glory." In disbelief, my response, "Glory? But I don't even look like a Christian. And again and again and again, God would say, "Christ in you, the hope of glory."

Then He told me, "In Christ, all things hold together." And in disbelief I responded, "But I'm falling apart. Then yet again I would hear, "In Christ all things hold together. In Christ all things hold together."

Then I began to comprehend, "Could it be that what is really me 'in Christ' will hold together? So then, what is falling apart? Could it be my flesh, my own strength, my own capabilities, and my own work? Is the 'falling apart' the 'wood, hay, and stubble' of my life?"

In His very gentle voice, God would speak to my heart, "I am purifying you. I am giving you the spirit of repentance. I am teaching you how to love your children, how to speak gently to them, and don't you like how I speak gently to you? I am teaching you how to instruct your children. Do you see what a gentle teacher I am? I don't go for performance. I want your confidence; I want your trust."

Also God said, "I am teaching you how to respect your husband, how to live under your husband."

These years were very difficult times for my family and me. At one point I was sure that people as troubled as I were hospitalized. I am convinced that my earlier years of Christianity bore little fruit. But God, in His great mercy, saw fit to prune me down to the root. He left no fruit, no leaves, and no sticks; I was pathetic in appearance. But at the root was Christ! The seeds He had planted over those many summers at camp now came alive in Christ. As I died a slow and painful death to the law, He filled me with the life of Christ.