Truth

I have read Randy Alcorn’s Lord Foulgrin’s Letters and its sequel The Ishbane Conspiracy so many times I’ve lost count. Something that I’ve always been bothered with is the fact that they felt a missing piece of themselves, that they knew they were looking for Something and Someone great. I have never felt those longings. I have a theory on that that I would have to share.

When I think back, age didn’t matter. I think I was five, because it was before my parents’ divorce, so we’ll say five or six to give us a little wiggle room. I don’t remember much. I don’t remember if I was reading my Bible. I don’t know if I watched Storykeepers, which is a television show about the lives of early Christians in Rome. I don’t have any idea of what I was doing before this happened. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get back to the story.

I remember crying harder than I’ve ever cried before or since. I was on my knees by the window that was to the side of the foot of my bed. And I was praying. I remember saying ‘please’ a lot. I was crying and saying something like, “Please, God, forgive me! I know I don’t deserve it! But please! Forgive me!” And I honestly believe he did.

Fast-forward through my life, and I got into things I shouldn’t have. I was reading things I had no right to then started writing them when other people weren’t giving me what I wanted. I was lost…or was I? Was I a lost sheep? Or was I a sheep that had just strayed?

When I was sixteen, my bipolar disorder surfaced, and it is BAD. I hardly have any normal periods. To top that off, we found out that all my life I’ve had a type of high-functioning autism called Asperger’s Syndrome. But something else happened when I was sixteen. I started writing a book. That book turned into three, and I called it the Lost Scrolls Trilogy. My father had prayed for me to use my writing as a good thing. He didn’t know what I was writing, but he wanted me to use it for the Lord. And I did.

The thing that gives me pause is, throughout all my life, I’ve had certain things that stuck with me to this very day. But that day at the foot of my bed, while I was on my knees, seems so out of place. I believe God claimed me then. That is the only thing I can think of that would produce so many tears and so much impassioned pleading.

And something else is that I was only FIVE! For so long I have wondered why I didn’t have a moment that I knew that I was His, well and truly, and oh-so-fully. I think that I do have one, and it isn’t forgotten as I have thought to myself that it might be. I think I was five years old when the good Lord showed me my sin, and He took me to my knees so I could, in a very childlike way, confess my sins and ask for forgiveness. It’s only sad that it took sixteen years for me to realize that.

As one of my characters in my book states, “The Great Shepherd finally caught me, Fily. I was a naughty little sheep, but he forgave me and is bringing me to the rest of the flock.”

And ain’t that the truth?

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