Twelve Years

It has been twelve years since I've stepped foot into a church voluntarily. Twelve. Twelve years since I wanted to be with God, and His people. Twelve long years since I wanted to talk with Him. To worship. To belong. To *really* believe. I've been for things like... Christmas dinners and such, but that doesn't fall into the "voluntary" category for me. That falls into the "obligatory" category in my mind.

Going to a Christian college it was easy to get caught up in the wave of excitement. It was easy to get swept with the tide, and to *feel* the fervor. It was equally easy to get lost once I left there. It was easier to begin to question His love and faithfulness. It was easier to question whether or not he was even really there.

I had forgotten how to trust Him. I had forgotten how to long for Him.

He's been hunting me lately. From a girl at work thinking I need to be "saved" to people at my old church inviting me, he nudges.

I don't want the "go with the tide" sort of fervor. I want a real and relevant relationship with Him that meets me right where I am. I had to pray just to *want* to want Him at the front of my life again. I had to pray and ask him to help me be willing to trust him again.

This week I began reading a book that my coworker gave me a book to read, entitled "Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World" by Joanna Weaver. It's about having an intimate relationship with God in the busy lives that we lead. It hit me right where I live, because I am nothing if I am not a busy woman.

Today I voluntarily walked into a church for the first time in twelve years. I went because I wanted to be there.