Last week, I wrote an op-ed for Fox News Opinion called, “How to Know the Moment When You Really Got Saved.” I have never written something that provoked so many comments, personal emails, or Facebook messages. Fortunately, most of the responses were filled with awe at how completely God saved us through the blood of His Son, Jesus. And one of those messages, in particular, touched me.
I grew up in the Deep South, an area heavily influenced by the evangelical Christian faith. For many of us southern believers, the best articulation of our theology of salvation was the phrase, “Once saved, always saved.” The idea basically boils down to this: Jesus died on the cross for your sins, and once you say the “sinner’s prayer,” you are forever saved, and it can’t be undone, no matter what you do.
When I was in seventh grade, I wrote in my journal that I wanted to be an attorney when I grew up, because “attorneys get to do my three favorite things: argue, be dramatic and be right.” In that same journal entry, I also sheepishly acknowledged that being an attorney probably wasn’t a reality for me.
In March of 2001 I was hospitalized for emergency abdominal surgery, a blockage. In the course of it, I developed a serious blood clot, which also had to be treated.
Although I hate ironing, I went on a wild ironing spree this past Sunday afternoon.
When I was a teenager, I was grateful that I had few zits on my face. I hated, however, the fact that I had them all over my back. It was a social hazard to go swimming or change my shirt around other teens. I couldn’t bear the thought of my peers seeing my acne-covered back and being grossed out by me. So I did the only thing I knew to effectively get rid of it: I baked my fair skin in the sun until it burned.
I used to work in an office that had layers upon layers of dysfunctional relationships, and the only effective way to avoid the drama was to go work somewhere else. Almost everyone eventually did leave; but while they were there, they had to put up with being in a place where once-reasonable adults openly hurled insults, undermined each others work, and maliciously spread gossip. It was traumatizing for a lot of the folks who survived it.
Eight years ago this month, I was at a hat-themed party in Washington, D.C., feeling an acute level of insecurity. In a variety of areas of my life, I was dealing with a lack of integrity, self-control, and spiritual maturity. And although I’m sure my personal life could’ve been worse, it was bad enough that I knew I wouldn’t be getting married for at least another couple of years.
One summer during high school, I spent a couple of weeks with a well-meaning adult who aggressively tried to undermine everything I believed about Jesus. The man inundated me with anti-Christian arguments I had never considered before and ran circles around my partially developed 14-year-old brain. By the end of our time together, my faith was in shambles.
When I was in my 20s, I intensely struggled with a sense of unworthiness before God; yet at the same time, I felt like I was just good enough to deserve His love because I was so well-behaved. It was a stressful way to live, and eventually, it took its toll.
This week, I had the unfortunate experience of getting multiple shots in my gums and spending a total of seven hours in three different dentist’s chairs. The only good part about the experience is that it’s finally over.
I hated riding the bus when I was a kid. It wasn’t just that I barfed one of the many times I got carsick – it was being crowded in there with a bunch of sweaty kids, riding for 45 minutes, and hearing the elderly bus driver scream, “Jennicka!!” at this little girl who was always causing trouble.
On May 26, 1994, my mother called me at home and reminded me to be careful if I left the house – apparently, a teenage girl had driven in front of an 18-wheeler that morning and had been killed on impact. “Someone said her mom is a schoolteacher named Betty Myers and works in Hattiesburg,” said Mom. “Mom, Erin’s mother is named Betty, and she’s a schoolteacher in Hattiesburg.” My mom paused for a moment as we both put it together. “Oh no. Joshua, I’m so sorry.”
Let’s play a game. I’ll describe someone, and you tell me who I’m talking about. 1. He’s an old man with a long, white beard. 2. He sees everything you do. 3. He keeps a list of your deeds, good and bad. 4. He lives in a far-off, magical kingdom you couldn’t find if you tried. 5. He never allows himself to be seen; and 6. All the movies about him are fairly lame.
I used to spend a great deal of my time digging in my soul for spiritual brokenness. I was on a manhunt for sinful motives, ungodly habits, and character flaws – for badness, brokenness, ugliness – all the things I thought kept me from God.
Joshua Rogers 