In His Likeness w/ AntTBri

There is an innocence to play that remains despite chronological age.  As hard as we may try it is very hard to ignore the innate craving for adventure, discovery, and voyage.  While pursuing Early Childhood Education I read a book that said children learn through play.  The premise of the book encouraged educators to structure learning objectives through the use of play…give the children time and space to practice or play with roles, responsibility, and responses to people, places, and things which reminded me of a very popular poem Children Learn What They Live. Age twelve would be the mark of demarcation apparent then undetectable now that hallmarks when my play became my present practice.

When I turned twelve I asked my mother to buy me a real bible and a tambourine for my birthday; something began to shift in me. I can still see the look on her face today, she asked me if I was sure that was all I wanted, she told me she’d get it for me, but it didn’t have to be for my birthday.  After some discussion we agreed that was what I wanted and would get for my birthday.   I never looked at church as being a joke, it was so much part of my existence that it just seemed natural to imitate it while having fun, my brothers and cousins didn’t agree; they always complained “you always want to play church”.  My late grandmother took offense to this she would warn us kids about the danger of playing with God.  I didn’t pay her any attention because I couldn’t picture God getting upset or punishing me for practicing, how else was I going to get good at it or know what the heck I was doing when I got there.

Back then Sunday school, worship service and youth activities still catered to adult thought it wasn’t explained or experienced age appropriately, you were left to glean by osmosis or you were expected to take it as truth because they said it was so.  This approach didn’t work for my personality or learning style.  I loved God my way and I was convinced He understood it!  Some of the things presented and practiced at church were ridiculous and made no sense to me at all, so I discarded the confinements during my times of play.  For instance,women could wear pants and makeup, they were not limited in color nor fabrics (polyester was a sin). You didn’t have to be poor and money wasn’t the ultimate blessing nor was it merit for blessing. But most importantly, young people had a place, mattered, and were visible, active, participants and contributors in the service. So as we played I would tell them we’re not playing we’re having church. I mean I’d pull out the bible, blessed oil, and juice and crackers. If you came over my house to play nine times out of ten we were going to play church: song, message, and prayer… that included tell your neighbor, laying on hands, and screaming and shouting (dancing).  (Those were the days!).

Going to church shifted from play time to real-time, one Sunday when a young minister (probably thirty) expounded, explained and exclaimed the Word in a manner that spoke to me personally. Most of the preachers I had seen/heard up to that point (outside of my mother and step father) were much older and had little if any appeal to their presentation of the Gospel. The only thing I left remembering were those starchy suits and shining shoes; the fact that they appeared aloof, up tight and deeply drowning in the need to be admired or affirmed by the people they were trying to help.  I’d listen because I found God interesting, but nothing about the person or presentation held my interest… they seemed far away from anybody I knew, basically I couldn’t relate and I wanted God, just not the way they had him.  They never seemed to smile, or seem like they were enjoying themselves; I watched them closely because that’s what I’ve always done (observe). I wasn’t convinced that what they were saying worked for them, so I kept repackaging the message in ways that would be appealing, attractive, and awe worthy for my learning style…and ensure if it was right or true…that it would work for me. Until this day…anyway.

I still remember the message and the person, but mostly the presentation; he was expounding on how the choice of sin would make life ugly.  I grew up hearing the importance of being born again, I was an altar frequent.  This day, moment forever changed my life! Firstly, I didn’t want to experience the horrible things sin produced in his life (his testimony). Secondly, I definitely wanted nothing to do with being ugly.  Maybe it was the fact that he the minister was young, good-looking, and articulate.  Maybe it was his exhibited charisma and conviction that aroused the flare of enjoyment, excitement, and energy to produce a real Yes Lord within me. Or maybe real life mimicked what I felt or found to be true during my play…his message was applicable and practical, but mostly compelling because it reflected passion, purpose and promise.  Maybe my heart was ready or primed and that’s why it got my attention on that day in that moment. All I know is the punch or power behind the message so adequately proclaimed “you don’t have to have a testimony of being delivered from drugs, promiscuous living, being beat down and dogged by life, your story doesn’t have to include making a comeback from something tragic and horrific, for your life to mean something or be a witness to others. God can keep you if you want to be kept, your life can be the testimony of exception”.  Whatever the reason, I got it, the light bulb came on and I walked to the altar deciding I wanted God for real; all the other proclamations weren’t real they had been made out of fear, routine, or insistence. This time was exclusive to me and my God, my mother wasn’t even present and my step father was preoccupied with what he did for God to notice I was encountering the TRUE living and loving God in that moment this time. I was so excited to tell them…”mommy and daddy I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior…I’m SAVED”.  I’m sure her and my step father thought it was repetitive of all the other times I confessed salvation (after repeatedly chanting save me Jesus, save me Jesus until the church mothers got tired or were convinced I got “it”).

This time was a forever heart choice, my first introduction to Connection… hearts intentionally intertwining. It was the first time I really felt loved in a meaningful way that didn’t include thoughts or references to my parents or siblings.  God loved me specifically, he liked me and wanted me just the way I was, he wanted good for me, and he didn’t want me to experience any hurt or pain without Him.  He loved me so much He gave His only Son Jesus Christ.  I still remember the awe that over took me…thinking wow I don’t know nobody that would do that just for me.  I could vividly see and feel the ultimate expression of love. Jesus died just for me because He wanted me to experience life and love with Him.  I accepted loves gift one week before I turned twelve, no wonder I asked for the bible… that’s so cute to me… (aah yeah Jesus!).  It’s the best decision I ever made and Minister Marshal Canada was right God kept me; my life is the exception to the rule apparent in the lives of those that grew in the same environment from which I came.

All these years later I’m still experiencing the joy of the Lord. My relationship with Jesus is not regimented, routine, or even regulated…He and I are still together(big smiles and the warmest of sentiments)…he has proven to be loyal, faithful, trustworthy, and a friend that sticks closer than my brothers or sisters.  He’s been with me through all life and love’s lessons…it’s quite the adventure, discovery, and voyage. Twenty plus years later I’m not only living and loving in His likeness but I’m living and Loving to play from the heart posture of a child and He has never turned me away. The next time someone inquires why you’re so serious about your relationship with Jesus…I hope your only defense derives from a clear understanding of what is meant when believers  say “I’m just playing”~AntTBri