A Great Life with God

By D. Joan Poston

Beginning with a coerced childhood salvation experience and going on through a confused and convoluted Christian adult life, A Great Life With God is a true story of spiritual misconception and misunderstanding; its hindering and stunting effects; and the struggle for clarity and Gods truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512722680

D. Joan Poston

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PART I

FROM THE BEGINNING

WRONG FOOT

Born and raised in Florence, South Carolina; in the heart of the Bible belt; as a child, my family and I went to church often. We were there when the doors opened on Sunday mornings, on Sunday evenings, and again on Wednesday nights. Anytime there was a revival or special event we were present and accounted for. And while I can’t say I relished sitting still during the sermons or paid attention to every word my pastor said, I always looked forward to going. I enjoyed the uplifting music, fun social activities, and exciting Bible stories: Jonah being swallowed by the whale, David defeating Goliath, Daniel being thrown into the lion’s den. I was interested in learning about God’s love for humankind and His sending His Son, Jesus, to die on the cross for our wrong doings.

I was just beginning to comprehend what the word salvation meant, when, during Vacation Bible School one summer, our pastor walked into our fifth and sixth grade class to ask by a show of hands who wanted to go to heaven? Of course, we all raised our hands. What child doesn’t want to go to heaven? As well, with his next question about whether we believed in Jesus, all hands went up. And again, with whether we wanted to be saved, hands waved.

It wasn’t until we were all corralled into his office and my pastor began saying things, like our not putting off the decision to be saved because one could never be sure there would be a tomorrow, that I realized he was talking about right that second.

This was when the squirming began. Being a child who was always getting into trouble, there was no doubt where I would be going if I failed to wake up in the morning. I didn’t want to go to hell. At the same time, though, I still had questions about salvation and didn’t want to make this decision without fully understanding what I was doing either.

The persuasive spiel continued on with our pastor promising us new lives and our becoming good children after we were saved. We were then asked to close our eyes and all who wanted to be saved to raise their hands. I really wanted to be a good child. The prospect of having a new life sounded wonderful. But it just didn’t seem right to say I was ready when I wasn’t. That would be a lie. I knew that was wrong.

My hand would not go up.

Persuasion turned into pressing. Didn’t we want to have our sins forgiven? Didn’t we want to be good children? Why then, were we hesitating? Looking around the room, no one else seemed to be the least bit uncomfortable or confused. Obviously I was the only dumb and crummy child. Embarrassed and intimidated, I couldn’t bring myself to speak up about my questions, doubts, or wanting to wait. Several more eye-closing and hand-raising sessions followed. I finally gave in to raise my hand. What else could I do? We were going to be there forever if I didn’t.

The following Sunday, my classmates and I were collectively seated on the front pew and during the service were ushered up in front of the congregation to ask for forgiveness of our sins and profess a faith in Jesus.

This was my salvation experience.

My pastor’s intentions were good. He was helping children make a profession of faith. Souls were being won for Christ. What could be wrong with this?

What was wrong was his overriding of biblical truth—that people, even when they are children, need to make the decision to be saved in response to a convicted heart, need to understand what they’re doing. This man of God wasn’t content with presenting the gospel and then leaving the conversion of a child’s heart to God. He had to help along and make easy the process. My pastor should have known he was crossing the line when his herding of hearts involved pressure and a misuse of his position, influence, and trust.

Like the wayside seeds in the Parable of Soils, any person who goes up before the congregation to make a profession of faith under coercion or, for other such reasons as pleasing others, wanting to look good, or not wanting to be left out, etc., will not be starting out in right understanding and will be left at great risk.

Why my pastor was okay with the circumventing, superseding, and misleading, I do not know. What I know is that instead of having a genuine and personal salvation experience born of God touching my heart, I was coerced by fear and discomfort into going through the motions of professing faith. What I know is that as a clueless and confused child, I excitedly began looking forward to what my pastor had said was going to happen—my magically becoming a new and good person. Everything was going to be so much better! I was going to be nice, sweet, and never get into trouble. I was going to be like Jesus: wise, happy, and who knew what other wonderful things.

Walking back to sit with my parents that morning I anticipated feeling different and new—I felt no change. Throughout that day I waited—but remained the same person, having the same ugly ideas, feelings, and attitudes. I got into trouble. I did a mean thing.

The next day… same, and the next.

I thought perhaps a person had to be baptized before new life came—but no, there was no magical transformation after emerging from the pond waters behind our church.

What had I done wrong? Where was my new life?

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. With no real change and no correcting follow-up guidance (The consensus among the church adults around me seemed to be that all who had made a profession of faith automatically became fine and good.), I had no choice but to resign myself to the crumminess of who I was and would always be.

As a teenager, I lost interest in going to church—who needs empty promises, and moved on into young adulthood, muddling through life as best I could.

NEW BIRTH

I was now in my twenties and despite the muddling, things were going pretty good. I had a fairly well-paying job, my own apartment, a sporty new car, several good friends, and a somewhat steady boyfriend.

I was young and carefree… without a worry in the world!

And then one morning, out of the blue and for no apparent reason, I couldn’t manage to get out of bed to go to work. I wasn’t sick. Nothing bad was going on at work. I was actually one of those strange people who liked work. What in the world was going on?

I tried chastising myself into getting up. This is ridiculous! Grown people don’t just decide they’re not getting up!

I didn’t budge.

I tried reasoning with myself. There is absolutely no good cause for not wanting to go to work. My job is interesting. The people I work with are enjoyable. I should be happy to go.

Still no movement.

This was getting me nowhere. The time was getting late. If I wasn’t going in to work, I needed to let my boss know. I got up long enough to call in sick. Then crawled back into bed and threw the covers over my head. It could be that I was just overly tired. My outlook was always doom and gloom when I hadn’t had enough rest. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Sleep wouldn’t come, and the longer I lay there, the worse I felt, until eventually, everything was crummy, crummy, crummy! Why had I ever bothered to get up or go to work? Why couldn’t the world just go away and leave me alone!

My wanting to throw my hands up brought on a panic. I knew I couldn’t simply exit from the responsibilities of living. If I didn’t go to work, I would lose my job. Without a job, I wouldn’t be able to pay bills. Without paying bills, I would eventually have to move back home. That would be terrible—a going backwards! From there, I saw only more downward spiraling.

There had to be a reason for these bad feelings. I needed to figure out what it was and do something about it, quick!

This began a systematic reviewing of my life. My job—was fine; my apartment—was fine; friends and family relations—were good too. Really, everything was going as well as could be expected and pretty much according to plans and hopes, except, for maybe this one thing—my prospects for marriage. As most girls and young women do I had always dreamed of having a loving husband and family. Someone to share my life with. Children to enjoy. The only glitch to the dreams was that they all revolved around one person, my boyfriend, Terry, who, after more than six years of dating (with us constantly breaking up and getting back together due to his wandering eye and interest in other girls), was no closer to popping the question than the day we had first met in junior high. I had to admit to a certain amount of anxiety here. I wasn’t getting any younger and was having to live with the constant uncertainty and insecurity of Terry, at any moment, deciding to date and possibly marry some other girl. At the time, though, things were going pretty good between us. All I had to do was be patient and he would, one day, come around. Besides, what did my love life have to do with not wanting to go to work?

I was back to square one. For absolutely no reason, my nice, pleasant, and comfortable world was tilting, slipping, and sliding . . .

It was at this moment, for some inexplicable reason, the thought popped into my head that maybe, just maybe, God could help me.

God? Why had I thought of Him? It had been years since I had gone to church. I had never seen any evidence of His helping anyone. I had, in fact, begun to wonder if there even was a God.

The situation was too grave to waste time or effort on any idea that wasn’t viable. Before asking God for help, I needed to know for certain He was actually there to hear me. It was with this simple reasoning that I got down on my knees to ask God Himself if He existed—promising that if He was real and would let me know, I would commit my life to Him. I didn’t really know what I was doing. All I knew was that I desperately needed help and these particular words seemed right.

Instantly, the commandment, Thou shalt have no other gods before me. materialized in my brain!

I had in no way been thinking along these lines. As far as I knew I hadn’t been worshipping any god, much less another god. These words had to have come from God. Which meant—HE WAS REAL! God existed! And, He had bothered to answer me personally! This was incredible! It was unbelievable! I hadn’t expected God to respond at all, much less, by putting words into my head! It took a while for everything to sink in: for my brain to comprehend the magnitude of not just thinking God existed but actually knowing He did; for it to absorb the ramifications of not just hearing about God’s care but actually experiencing it. God was no longer a faraway deity. He was right there with me!

The more I thought about it, the more excited I became, until unable to contain my joy, I jumped off the bed and began dancing around the room, singing, Yes! Yes! Yes! God cares about me! He really cares! Things are going to be great now! God is going to help me have all of the things I want. He is going to help me have the kind of life I want! Yes!

There, in mid-step, the dancing stopped. The words "kind of life I wanted had brought back my promise of committing my life to God. Uh oh. What had I gotten myself into? What did committing oneself even mean? Surely a promise made under these circumstances didn’t count. Surely God would excuse me from my hastily made declaration. What were promises anyway? Try as I might I couldn’t fool or lie to myself. I knew the definition of commitment," and promises had always been important to me. In my mind, a person couldn’t be trusted if they didn’t keep their word or at least make a real and honest effort to keep it. Breaking a promise made to God, Creator of the Universe, would be terrible and definitely not something I wanted to do.

Whatever it meant, I would have to try to honor my promise of commitment.

Finding the right words to express any of this is difficult. Human words don’t do justice to the things of God. In making this resolution I can no more find apt words to describe the feeling of profound peace that filled my heart than words can be found to accurately describe being in love. All I can say is that it was a completeness and security like I had never known. A being surrounded by absolute and all-encompassing love, interest, and care. A feeling like no other!

I was now ready and willing to be whatever God wanted me to be. The only problem, was how I was to know what that might be when I couldn’t even understand His very first message of not worshipping other gods?

I remembered the Ten Commandments were in the Old Testament and thought to look them up. Unfortunately, all I had in my apartment was a small, pocket-sized New Testament a friend had given to me as a graduation gift. (At the time, I hadn’t been all that excited about getting this particular gift and had quickly packed it away in a box.) There was a possibility some reference to the Ten Commandments or something about worshipping other Gods might be found in it, though. I rummaged around in the hall closet until I located the Testament and began flipping through its pages, searching for the word commandment. The random approach proved to be ineffective. I turned back to Matthew to begin a more thorough search. It was here, in Matthew 7:7 and 8, I found the words, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. God’s profoundness and deep care were becoming ever more evident and amazing. I had asked for understanding of a few words and been given the key to all understanding—to simply ask Him.

Instruction had been given. I got back down on my knees to ask God why He had given me this particular commandment and what it meant in regards to my life.

His answer again came directly into my mind with the insight that another god was anything loved, cherished, or given more devotion to than Him. And that in order to keep my promise of commitment I would have to be willing to put Him above all else. This having ideas and concepts I had never considered before or had any inkling of suddenly materializing in my brain was amazing! It was as if God and I were talking face to face.

Giving it some thought, I realized there were many things that could be loved or put ahead of God. There were the worldly ambitions of job, money, power, success, and fame; the consuming diversions of television, sports, shopping, and hobbies; the vices of gambling, drinking, drugs, and sex. Love of self, and even love for another, when it is a greater love than God, is an idol worshipped. In Genesis 22:1-14 Abraham is asked, by God, to sacrifice his long awaited son, Isaac, as a test of who was his larger love.

The question was, "What was it that I loved most or more?"

That answer was easy—my boyfriend, Terry. He was my idol, my god. What I was willing to give my life for, what I humbled myself before.

NO!-NO!-NO! God couldn’t possibly be asking me to choose between Him and the one and only love of my life! He couldn’t possibly want me to give up my every hope, all my dreams! Did He not know my life would be empty and meaningless without Terry? Did He not care about causing hurt, pain, and loss? God was too hard! His expectations too great!

The caterwauling and gnashing of teeth continued on… . God waited. There could be no circumventing or compromising of His direction. He would not accept second place in my life. Who was it that I loved most? Who was I willing to let go of?

Well. If a choice had to be made, then there was no choice. I knew I could never again be happy with anyone, even Terry, without God in my life. The bond between us was already too strong. The feeling of love, care, and peace was too sure.

With a breaking and shattering heart, I gave over my love for Terry. I would see him no more.

The decision had been made. Dazed and numb, I sat, waiting for feelings of loss and grief to hit. Instead… a profoundly liberating relief and rightness washed over me—relief in my being able to keep my word of commitment; rightness in choosing God! Where I had anticipated incompleteness, there was fulfillment. Where an emptiness, there was wholeness. I was, finally, fully receiving God into my heart.

To my further wonder, as He had with Abraham, God then relayed that He wouldn’t, after all, require my sacrificing my love for Terry. I only need make sure I put my love for God ahead of all other loves. I made a vow to keep my priorities straight.

That morning the first of the Ten Commandments, Thou shalt have no other gods before me. became the foundation of my relationship with God. He would be first in my heart, mind, and life. Nothing or no one would have more influence or power over my existence.

In a matter of moments, my old life had been shattered and a new one begun. I went from a person who had little interest in following God’s will for my life to someone who had turned their entire life over to His direction. I went from an uncertain stumbling through life to an insightful straightforward walking on a clear path. II Corinthians 5:17 says, "Therefore if