Faces Of Faith - Mhairi's Journey
Here at The Holy Sepulchre the people who join our family mean the world to us. Last Sunday we had the delight of baptising and confirming two new members.
I thought you would like to read Mhairi’s journey to faith as like most of our journeys here, it’s complicated but inspirational.
Someone once said to me that Jesus wasn’t hiding behind a rock. Meaning of course that he was always there and always present, and I guess this had been their experience. A simple and clear journey of faith. Things for me have not always been so cut and dried, and I had often felt at times that God was in fact hiding from me. Something I believe is experience strongly by those who are ‘unchurched’ or ‘dechurched’.
I wasn’t raised into religion by my family, and I think this is where the initial divide happens. Anything I wanted to lean about God or faith I had to do myself, and whilst my parents supported me in this, I perceived myself to be on the outside of all that is religious. Not like those families whose beliefs span generations, follow the pre-trodden path of baptism, confirmation and evensong and who just understand their role and beliefs.
But learn I did, and believe I did. I built my relationship with God and worked on being the type of Christian I felt that He wanted me to be. Perhaps I wasn’t like the others, but I believed that God had made me exactly as he wanted me to be. I was really very happy in my bubble of faith.
However, life is often complicated or chaotic for many and the journey with faith often starts to become a struggle. A series of what felt like life destroying events, led me to a place where I felt very much alone, physically, emotionally and spiritually.
I began to feel that whilst I still wanted a relationship with God, I wasn’t sure he wanted one with me. I started to feel that he was in fact starting to hide from me. That perhaps I wasn’t a good enough Christian, that by not being able to quote scripture I was somehow lacking.
I continued talking to God, but much like friends that you become distanced from he moved to the periphery. I didn’t feel like I could be the person that I thought God wanted me to be anymore, and honestly, I just stopped doing the work. Much like expecting to win the lottery without buying a ticket, I expected the positive outcomes and was aghast that I wasn’t getting them.
How could God have forsaken me, when it was me who had actually done the forsaking.
The wilderness years ensued, and I still talked to God. In many ways those conversations got better, but I thought he probably didn’t want anything to do with me now. I hadn’t been Christian enough, or a good enough Christian were just excuses I told myself to allow me to keep God at arm’s length, and not let him in. If I’m very honest he often sent me signs that he was still with me, but I ignored them and I trod the path that I wanted.
In a complicated turn of events, I found myself expecting a baby, and not being married expected I was even further outside of being a ‘good Christian’. However, when I fell ill and prayed to God in a state of abject panic, he answered my prayers immediately. I knew he was listening, and I knew that he had sent me my child to change the path I was on. I also knew that I couldn’t just ask for things, I knew that I would need to put the work back in.
I had my son baptised and I started rebuilding my relationship with God, but in private. Our conversations and my prayers were between the two of us, and we both seemed ok with this, until we weren’t.
At a point where I knew I needed more, my son asked if we could go to church. He had always been obsessed by The Holy Sepulchre, but it never seemed to be open, and I had found no real information online. Not this time. A brand-new website told us where to be and what to do, and so we went. Once again God met me exactly where I needed him to.
The Holy Sepulchre is, and I don’t think anyone will mind me saying this, a ragtag congregation of people, many of whom have had difficult journeys with faith, and difficult relationship with God, and complicated lives. It’s a congregation of people, who are not the best singers, maybe don’t know the hymns and are terrible at knowing when to stand up and sit down. It’s perfect. It’s accessible because it imperfections are perfect. It’s a gentle place for those who need it, where competitive Christianity is not welcome, and kindness rules.
So, in my mid-40s, I find myself on the precipice. That little girl who took herself off to church every Sunday, dreamed of being a Nun despite not being catholic, joined Christian youth groups but then ran off into the night is being baptised and confirmed. I’m going all in, and I’m terrified. I’ve always known that I have been called to God, but I’ve never been ready to give myself over, not really. Now I’m going to do it. It’s finally time to take that leap of faith.
And as a sidebar, I don’t think Jesus is hiding anymore. I don’t think he ever was, I just don’t think I was always looking.
