The wheels were always in motion...

When I was younger, I'd always had bits of God in the picture. In primary school, my classmate's mum ran scripture classes once a week where we all did our best to annoy or ignore her (God bless Mrs Walsh). And we sang Christmas carols every year (I wonder if they still do that in schools...?). When I was 7, I somehow became friends with a girl in a younger grade whose father ran kids classes at the local church (which is literally 2 doors down from where my in-laws now live.. coincidence??) and went there for a little while on Sunday mornings, though I was more in it for the cookies and cordial. I also dabbled in another church introduced to us by a family friend (hi, Cindy's mum), but again, I enjoyed playing on the monkey bars outside more than anything else and after royally botching up their Christmas presentation and getting glares from all the kiddies, I wasn't particularly running to go back. In high school, scripture was watching Simpsons episodes and listening to the chaplain (poor guy - high school is tough) try to teach us life lessons from it.

Like I said, high school is tough. Year 7 was ok, and then it all went downhill from there - all my own doing, of course. I made lots of naive (read: stupid) mistakes, ticked a lot of people off, and life pretty much revolved around all the wrong things (usually which boy I liked and how much he didn't like me). My ICQ (yes, I'm old) nicknames were things like "Ever Depressed". But funnily enough, on the outside I was still 'fine' - smart enough to still get good grades, normal enough at home to not sound alarm bells, still a 'good girl' in the eyes of authority, just dying on the inside.

So that paints the picture that Jesus stepped into when I was in Year 10, the lowest point of the pit I'd dug for myself. Somehow, Cindy's mum got back in touch and invited my mum along to Asian (when Glenhaven Community Centre was our home). Mum has never been the best at directions and driving to foreign places, and felt bad for getting lifts from Cindy's mum all the time, so I became her directional advisor and went to Asian with her. At first, I only went for the monthly outreach dinners (for me socially, when there is food, it is less awkward because you have something to do). 

These were my first encounters with worship and nothing like what I thought church should be like. I can't pinpoint the moment or date of my decision (I wish I could), but one night after the service as chairs were being packed up, Cindy's mum asked me if I'd said the salvation prayer before. I said no, and she led me through it. Though, in my heart I'd already known for a while that Jesus was real. 

Fast forward 11 years and here I am, still imperfect but moving forward (I think of those old Pantene ads: "It won't happen overnight, but it will happen." This was actually quite a struggle to write because though I remember life before Jesus, it doesn't feel like it was my life and I almost don't remember what it felt like.

Lately especially, I've been in awe of how God sets things in motion long before I'm on the same page (or even in the right book). It took me 16 years to choose Him, even longer to truly call Him friend, but He chose me waaay before that, not flippantly from a line-up, but for a purpose He set in motion before the world began.

Fascinating :)

K