“My sheep listen to my voice, I know them, and they follow me.” John 10:27
I sit here on this cold January morning, warming up with a cup of coffee. I sit in silence but so much is going through my mind right now.
I look over at the empty dining room table and I can so easily recall the conversations that were held there last night. We had a large group of people here in my little cottage gathered around the table, so many that my husband and I ate at the kitchen island to give them all room to sit together. Our guests somehow began talking about their faith. One guest spoke about her faith like this… “well, it’s just what I was brought up to do.”
My ears perked up as I heard my children talk about their belief in Christ being authentic because their father and I allowed them the room to explore their relationship with God without feeling like it was expected of them to carry on our beliefs “just because”. We were very involved in church and we raised them in a Christian home . We both felt strongly that cultivating an environment to accept Christ was important but it wouldn’t be enough to produce authentic faith. That was between each of our children and Jesus. We hoped and prayed that they would accept Him, but never forcing them to believe because we wanted their relationship with Him to be REAL for them. I didn’t want them to adopt my faith and look at life through MY Jesus colored glasses -NO!- I wanted them to ask questions...explore truth...and decide if they believed for themselves. That was the only way they could apply His wisdom to their life. It would be the only way to salvation. My faith and my salvation wasn’t enough for anyone besides myself. Jesus is real, REAL to me and I cannot separate myself from Him in any circumstance but that’s because He’s as real to me as anything else I see around me. When I get up in the morning, I know my hair will be brown. I know I have hazel eyes, that I have ten fingers and ten toes. I trust that when I pull back the covers on my bed and slide my legs out from underneath that the floor will be there to step onto… I don’t give much thought to it. I also don’t give much thought to whether or not Jesus is there. I KNOW that He is! Now, when my children look in the mirror, they don’t see my face or my brown hair… they know their own hands and step out onto the floor with their own two feet. They do not think my thoughts and when they speak, they do not hear my voice. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when they say “Mama said…” and reflect on their upbringing, but when it comes to eternity... my faith, my words, my quirks...none of that matters. What matters is their personal relationship with God and what He means to each of them.
Last night, when I heard them each express their faith in Him, each one had a different answer. I thought “Isn’t it just like Jesus to meet each of them where they are and speak tenderly to their hearts?” After all, He knows their heart even more intimately than I do...which is exactly why it was so important for me to give them back to Him. Now, as they face trials- and there will be trials- they won’t repeat my mistakes...they won’t wonder helplessly what to do or where to turn...they will hear HIS voice.
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