I had to miss church this morning because Luke isn't feeling well. I'm pretty sure it's just teething but since he's kind of snotty I didn't want to take any chances of making anyone else sick, so I stayed home with him. The big boys are at church and Luke is napping so I have a few minutes to myself - hello there rarity! I've been meaning to blog about this for a while now but just have never had the time to sit down and thoughtfully put it down in print. I have about an hour before everyone gets home or wakes up, so, I can actually blog.
For as long as I can remember I've been a worrier. Little things, big things. I just worry about stuff. What if this, what if that. You know how that can be. When I was 8 years old my Mamasuey led me to Christ. She said, "You can either spend your life doing things your way or God's way, but you have to make a decision." I remember sitting in a room alone, after her speech, crying and choosing Jesus. I wish I could say I acted like I chose Jesus from there on out but unfortunately I didn't. I went to church, read my bible some but never really worked on a personal relationship with Jesus. I believed in Him, knew He was God's son but that was about it. I made poor decisions in high school and college, drinking, partying. Yep, sure did. I was searching. Searching for something to calm me, to fill my void, to make all that worry go away. Of course, none of those things helped. After a series of events, car accidents, allergic reactions to a medicine and my world being torn upside down when I was 20, I started having panic attacks. I was miserable. It was all consuming. All I could think of was, "I'm going to die, any minute I'm going to die" and my heart would start racing and I'd be left prey to all sorts of crazy thoughts and fears. I was so scared of dying. I can remember the exact moment I asked God for help. I was in the floor of my room at my parents house, it was in March and I just fell flat on my face and cried out to God to help me, to fix it. I gave everything to Him - told Him I couldn't do it on my own anymore and quite frankly I did not want to. I wanted to do it His way and even though I knew I'd fail along the way, I'd spend the rest of my life serving Him if only He'd forgive me. In that instant, I felt a physical wave of peace go over my body and I've never, ever had a panic attack since.
Ben loves to joke that I'm the only Christian he knows that gets anxious when I think about living forever. It's true, just the thought of eternity, where did God come from?, etc sends my stomach into knots and I feel like throwing up. How silly is that? If I claim to love and know Jesus, why in the world would His plan make me so out of sorts? Because I haven't been focused on the true reason for Heaven - worshiping and glorifying God. For some reason, we feel like we have to sell people on Heaven: "Just think, so and so will be there! You'll have this huge mansion! There will be streets of gold! You'll never suffer or hurt again!" And while all of those things are true and blessings to be had, they cheapen eternity for me.
About a month ago I sat down and decided that if I love God and Jesus then that needs to be my reason for wanting to be in Heaven. Because, when it comes down to it, Jesus is the only reason I get to be in Heaven in the first place! Maybe your loved ones will be there to greet you in Heaven but they did not suffer an agonizing death on the cross for you - Jesus did. And that was it. That's my decision. Just Jesus. If I never see anyone I loved on this earth, if I never get a mansion or walk on a street made from gold I don't care - I just want my Jesus. I am so, completely in love with Jesus and I can not wait to spend eternity letting Him know that. He saved me, He healed me, HE ALONE has made me new! He paid my price, He made God's glory known and I honestly can not wait to get to Heaven to be with Him.
So that's where I am. I'm not anxious anymore. And I owe it all to the Prince of Peace. Just Jesus.