Sorry, language. I know.
So I need to be blogging. I've had lots of great things happen and there's all these jumbled thoughts in my head that I should really get out.
To start off this series, I'm not sure when I first accepted Christ. As a friend of mine would say, "I was saved from a sinful wretched life at the age of two." That means I don't really have an exact date or even know what year of my life I decided to follow Jesus.
I grew up in church, practically at church, and had strong Christian legacies from both my mom and my dad's sides of the family. I read my bible sometimes, I paid attention in church, I usually tried to do the right thing. Except of course when I wasn't. Which is a lot more than many of the adults around the kid me knew.
I was a terror child sometimes. I disobeyed my mom, stole money from her at a young age and acted out at home. At church I seemed the perfect little angel. But due to extenuating circumstances, mom didn't go to church with us. Grandma and Grandpa Patten took us. (Long story you don't need to know, though I have little doubt of my mom being a sincere follower of Christ.)
I got worse as I got older and became more independent. Though I'm sure there are those at my old home church would say I was a great kid. I think my mom could tell some very different stories. Once I could drive I could go to church or wherever, whenever, even when my grandparents were in AZ for the winter and my aunt and uncle across the street couldn't make it. Or when my mom said no and then went to work. I thought it was okay for me to go out and be out late with the youth because it's not like I was out drinking or having sex. I was hanging out with my christian friends having good clean fun. But I could come home and scream at my mom and slam doors and fight with my brother. I would lie to my mom about my plans or lie about them afterwards.
I was living two lives and neither of them felt real. In one I was a saint and in the other I was a devil. Outside I was a wonderful straight A student, who was an eager volunteer and helpful and friendly and kind. Inside I was a twisted sick soul full of selfishness, self loathing, anger and pride.
For this series, we're gonna fast forwarded to college. I spent nearly all of my college life running away from God. I usually say "walking" away from God when I talk about it but it was a little more aggressive than that. I didn't like going back to my hometown for church. My family had moved an hour away for my mom's job and I was happy to be away. I lived at home two more years going to community college and alternatively making my relationship with my mom better and worse. I've since learned that my relationship with my mom, and others was a direct result of my unresolved sin. More on that later.
Most people still thought I was a good person, even me. I was nice to people. I was a "good" person. When I went off to my four year college I took care of a roommate one night when she came back to the dorm drunk and ended up locked in a bathroom stall puking. I liked helping out; I got involved in some campus awareness groups. I enjoyed volunteering and helping out at campus events or the campus theater. I went to a local church a few times, but that wasn't very comfortable so I didn't go often.
My senior year a friend even introduced me to Veggietales (which I loved despite not being right with God). Really though, I didn't want to make room in my life for God. I look back now and see numerous times he protected me or blessed me; I just continued to write Him off. I bet most people from college think I was a nice, good person. They had no idea who I really was inside.
And inside I was running. And I kept running.
TO BE CONTINUED....
So I need to be blogging. I've had lots of great things happen and there's all these jumbled thoughts in my head that I should really get out.
To start off this series, I'm not sure when I first accepted Christ. As a friend of mine would say, "I was saved from a sinful wretched life at the age of two." That means I don't really have an exact date or even know what year of my life I decided to follow Jesus.
I grew up in church, practically at church, and had strong Christian legacies from both my mom and my dad's sides of the family. I read my bible sometimes, I paid attention in church, I usually tried to do the right thing. Except of course when I wasn't. Which is a lot more than many of the adults around the kid me knew.
I was a terror child sometimes. I disobeyed my mom, stole money from her at a young age and acted out at home. At church I seemed the perfect little angel. But due to extenuating circumstances, mom didn't go to church with us. Grandma and Grandpa Patten took us. (Long story you don't need to know, though I have little doubt of my mom being a sincere follower of Christ.)
I got worse as I got older and became more independent. Though I'm sure there are those at my old home church would say I was a great kid. I think my mom could tell some very different stories. Once I could drive I could go to church or wherever, whenever, even when my grandparents were in AZ for the winter and my aunt and uncle across the street couldn't make it. Or when my mom said no and then went to work. I thought it was okay for me to go out and be out late with the youth because it's not like I was out drinking or having sex. I was hanging out with my christian friends having good clean fun. But I could come home and scream at my mom and slam doors and fight with my brother. I would lie to my mom about my plans or lie about them afterwards.
I was living two lives and neither of them felt real. In one I was a saint and in the other I was a devil. Outside I was a wonderful straight A student, who was an eager volunteer and helpful and friendly and kind. Inside I was a twisted sick soul full of selfishness, self loathing, anger and pride.
For this series, we're gonna fast forwarded to college. I spent nearly all of my college life running away from God. I usually say "walking" away from God when I talk about it but it was a little more aggressive than that. I didn't like going back to my hometown for church. My family had moved an hour away for my mom's job and I was happy to be away. I lived at home two more years going to community college and alternatively making my relationship with my mom better and worse. I've since learned that my relationship with my mom, and others was a direct result of my unresolved sin. More on that later.
Most people still thought I was a good person, even me. I was nice to people. I was a "good" person. When I went off to my four year college I took care of a roommate one night when she came back to the dorm drunk and ended up locked in a bathroom stall puking. I liked helping out; I got involved in some campus awareness groups. I enjoyed volunteering and helping out at campus events or the campus theater. I went to a local church a few times, but that wasn't very comfortable so I didn't go often.
My senior year a friend even introduced me to Veggietales (which I loved despite not being right with God). Really though, I didn't want to make room in my life for God. I look back now and see numerous times he protected me or blessed me; I just continued to write Him off. I bet most people from college think I was a nice, good person. They had no idea who I really was inside.
And inside I was running. And I kept running.
TO BE CONTINUED....
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