Knowing God.

I had the pleasure of hearing Pete Greig, "bewildered co-founder" of a worldwide movement of 24/7 prayer, speak this morning. He talked about what prayer looks like during the dark times, and shared from his own experience.

This morning, I'm looking again at the journey I've traveled thus far, but through a new lens. Where was there darkness? Wilderness? Valleys?

I've believed in God for as long as I can remember. For me, there has never been (aside from momentary doubts) a question of if God exists. Rather, it has been a question of who God is, what God is like, and how God relates to me and the rest of the world.

I was raised in church. Mainline church. When I was 5, my family moved to a very small town in the middle of nowhere. Something inside of me died that summer. And though we moved to new place when I was in junior high, to a place where I seemed to thrive much more, that place inside of me didn't come alive again until I was 18 years old.

When I was in junior high, I lost my faith in prayer. I clearly remember telling my dad that I believed in God, but I didn't believe that God answered prayer.

When I was in high school, I lost my faith in the church. The church hurt me terribly, and hurt my family, all through same pained grins and polite exchanges that I'd seen all along. Where was God in that? I did not find God in those faces.

I held on to a God who seemed unresponsive to my cries. I held on to a God who I didn't see in church.

In God, I found peace beyond my understanding. And yet, I found myself still a little dead inside. I mostly survived by shoving the suffering away somewhere. I stored it deep inside, where no one could touch it, not even me.

When a friend, who been love and inspiration to me during a difficult season, chose to end his own life, I suddenly found myself face to face with that suffering again. Still, I had no answers. All seemed meaningless. I shoved the suffering down deeper, became more numb, and focused on serving and leading others.

I had no real intention to go to a Christian college. I just wanted to be in Chicago, get good financial aid, and go to a school I liked. I had no idea what God had in store for me there.

I found the church again. Not the building, but the real church. People passionately following Jesus. People who cared about me and would offer to pray for me. People who fed the homeless and followed the leading of the Holy Spirit. People who spoke of their relationship with God as something so...intimate. Powerful. Dynamic.

God sent me a roommate that endured all of what I brought with me to school - sailor mouth and all. She also endured my unraveling, as later in college, my suffering found a safe place to surface once again.

Eventually, I also found a specific church community to be a part of - with a vision that inspired and a people who loved and prayed and served.

In the midst of my undoing, I also discovered in myself a call to some kind of ministry. I changed my major - fairly late in the game. It was an act of faith, but also an act of joy. Suddenly, I had found my people. For the first time, I felt like I truly had something to contribute in class discussions, instead of merely struggling to keep up.

I never meant to become an evangelical. I don't think I even knew what an evangelical was. Yet, the school where I found church again called itself evangelical. The church community I became a part of, and later worked at, is also evangelical, though I don't remember ever using that word at the time. It is only now, that I find myself partnering with mainliners once again, that I see so clearly how truly evangelical I am.

I have known God throughout my life. For most of my life. I have known God in different ways, in different seasons.

I have known the still small voice. The un-explainable peace. The silent knowing. My best friend in childhood described my faith as a zen-like Christianity. I have known God's presence in the monastery. In the hymns. Oh, the hymns! This is my Father's world! They'll know we are Christians by our love! I once was lost, but now am FOUND. There is a balm in Gilead. (I don't even really know what that one means, but it resonates!) Give me a hymn and a walk in the woods, and there is a faith there that I have known for so long.

But as an adult, I discovered a God who comes near. Who moves in power. Who speaks and moves mightily - even through me. I have seen, and experienced, prophetic words that ring true. Miraculous healing. The presence of God that descends like a cloud and overwhelms. The fire in my bones. The tongues-of-fire wildness of the Holy Spirit.

I have known God in suffering. There is a verse that speaks of a longing to know Christ, in the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings. I don't understand this. Yet, I have known Christ in this way.

I have known Christ in the valley. Walking beside me. Holding my hand. Intimate. Drawing near.

I have known Christ in the wilderness. When he seems silent and distant and invisible. Jesus touched me in the midst of that time. The church was truly the body of Christ to me. Through the church, God held me. Held me up. Walked with me. Acted on my behalf. When I couldn't see him or hear him on my own, the people of my church, acting in concert with God and one another, were the presence of Christ for me.

As an adult, I was significantly hurt by the church once again. In that time, I found the love of Jesus and the peace of the Holy Spirit to be so close and real. After a season of pulling away from church and drawing near to Jesus, I told God, "I'm not ready for full-on ministry again yet, but I want to contribute to the body of Christ. What do you want me to do?" I also remember clearly praying for "wide open spaces." God brought me a friend and pastor, and answered both of these prayers through him.

I have known Christ in seeking God on behalf of another. I learned new things about how God loves by the way God loved through me. I had known God as a father, but now I discovered God, as Scripture describes, as a mother, passionate and fierce in love for her children. I discovered a love that is steady and immovable. Unchanging. Delighting in his children.

I have known God as the one who is. "Be still and know that I am God." In my anxiety, when I am still, he is. In my doing, when I am still, God is. I have known a God who is. Not because of anything I have done. Not dependent on me at all. Not created by human hands. A God who just is. Worthy of all the glory and honor for his very being.

Through every valley, every wilderness, by every stream and on every mountaintop, God was there. Whether I knew it or not. I have known God.

And God has known me.