Savior Faith/Lordship Faith

"Not everyone who says to Me, "Lord, Lord, shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father in heaven.

"Many will say to Me in that day, 'Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?'

"And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!"

Matthew 7:21-23

I've been thinking about my faith journey. It's a whole life of ups and downs. I was raised in church, baptized, three services a week, group Bible studies. There was never a time when I didn't believe.

But there was a sense of going through the motions. Doing the things that I have to do in order to be a good Christian. I felt guilty for not reading my Bible, guilty when I couldn't make it to church, guilty for not praying long enough. If I could just get these things right, then God would be pleased with me.

And so goes the majority of my life. Christian guilt. Struggle. Hoping that God would forgive me for being human. There was no connection. Maybe I was scared to go that far. If I surrendered it all, would I wake up the next day in a jean skirt with bad hair? Never having any fun. Looking down on everyone for not doing it my way? Is that what set apart looks like? A woman with no boundaries, always serving and never having an opinion of my own? And bitter.

I mean, isn't believing in God, believing that Jesus is the Son of God, enough? Then you can go about your normal life, with the assurance of heaven. I'm a good person after all.

Aren't I?

Come to find out, the answer is a big fat no. And it's not just about the rotten things I've done, the lies I've told, or the people I've hurt. It's about my own reluctance to make Jesus the Lord of my life. To truly submit to His will. To admit that I don't have the answers and don't always know what's good for me.

I know the scriptures. I read my Bible. I prayed. But it wasn't until that day, almost two years ago, when I sat tired, broken, lost, gripping the very edge of my frayed rope, that I finally let go. In one big moment of surrender, my whole life changed.

So then, what is it? I know what happened to me but there seems to be this gray area, a time in my life where I was in the dark, still believing but separated somehow.

I often think about the prodigal son, how he had to learn his lesson the hard way. I'm positive that during those years when he was off doing his own thing, his father never stopped hoping, praying and worrying about his son. They were separated, no contact between them, but the love was still there. And when the son finally came to his senses, his dad was there, waiting without judgement. Just happy and relieved to have his boy back, under his protection and love.

That's when the real relationship could start. A humble son, recognizing the wisdom of his father. Submitting to his direction (and correction.)