part 9 - The Story of my life

What follows in these tales from My life is a story I need to write. [[A story of life and drama that I long to write down. Not only for myself, but also as a reminder of things gone by. It is a story of forming and shaping and intrigue . But primarily it is a story about hope. If you choose to tread these pages with me, do so with reverence and kindness because one does not write these things lightly. If you are one who has the need to flirt a little with being nosy then perhaps you should pass by this story. For it is true and full. It needs not your judgment nor your advice. But if you want to read on, then read it as a novel should be read. For it is but just one story among many.

The Pull and The Call

Doug and I moved into our first home in Melville. Melville is a trendy little part of Johannesburg. We lived in a semi-detached house with a small garden and two bedrooms. It had all the old characteristics of an old Victorian house. It was great. We could walk to one of the best restaurants in Joburg, at that time. It was called Sams and served grand and funky food.

Our life in Melville was fairly uncomplicated. Doug was working at Magus as a computer programmer and I was teaching in Down Town Joburg. We were both trying to study through UNISA. Life was fun. We met with old and new friends. Went dancing and drinking. Smoked the odd Joint on the odd occasion. Doug was still pretty heavily involved with the ANC. Those early days when the Nationalist government was in discussion with the newly liberated ANC were tense and dangerous. One Sunday we heard the news of a college of Doug’s, Susan, who had been killed by one of the many bombs. The glass from her car window cut her jugular and she bled to death in no time. We sat stunned and silent. Her funeral was a huge affair. Her Catholic, Irish roots set the theme in the church with the open coffin and the ANC set the politic theme. Hamba Kahle Susan.

That was the first time I saw a dead body of someone I had known. I could see that it was in deed just a body. Susan was not there.

Doug spent many Sundays in long drawn out ANC sub-region meetings. He met some interesting intellectuals back then. It was exciting to see the future of our new democracy to be in its seedling stage.

Around this time I began to here the call of someone other than Doug and politics. In fact, his voice had been whispering and calling me for a while but it was here, in the home and at this time that his voice became very clear.

I had met many true christens throughout my life.  People who trusted and believed in Jesus and what he did for them on the cross.  

While studying I was in the class of a teacher who was a Christian. Her husband and her were Monocycles for Jesus. I had no clue what this was nor did I. I was a firm believer in myself and my ability to figure life out. Sure I meditated and read some new age stuff but hey, who is better to trust than yourself.

My best friend at school was a lovely girl called Kate. Her mother was a Christian and she had given me a little booklet that explained the gospel and helped the reader into a living relationship with Jesus. I had kept this little book safely with me through all these years.

Then there was the handsome preacher who everyone loved. Some friends invited me on a long, overnight hike with them and Mark. I thought I was in seventh heaven. Mark was a preacher. I get to ask him all those questions one gets to ask a preacher on a hike. Late that night, when the stars where up, He said, “Caren, if you want to know if God is real. Just ask him to show himself to you.”

And so that is what I did. It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. I asked the God of the Universe to show himself to little old, arrogant, selfish a and demanding…me.

And he did.

From that time on , where ever I went, I met many, many Christians who told me the same true story. At College there were many times that I would choose to listen to some visiting Christian band or watch some dvd on offer. I was a reluctant convert and yet God did not give up. Like an invisible hand on a tug of war rope, he pulled and pulled. Gently I began to creep until I would listen at least.  One night outside some dive in Melville while on our way to play pool, Doug told me how to become a Christian. He of course was had flirted with Christianity in his youth. Little did he know that God was calling him back to him?

That very next day, while driving to work, I had a very real and honest chat with God. I asked him to forgive me and help me to trust him.  I was totally un-churched. I had seldom been to a real church or heard a real sermon. God called me and saved me on that day.

Doug and I were not married. We were still living together in Melville and I had just given my life to Jesus.

Like a heavy weight God placed this in my mind and heart. Suddenly, out of nowhere I really knew I needed to find a church. I had no clue what this meant or actually what had happened to me at all. But a church was what I thought I needed now.

And so, Doug took me, first we began with his old Charismatic church. Next we tried a large Baptist church in Rosebank and for a time this is where we found a home amongst God’s people.

I began a course about discovering what being a Christian really was. It was one of the best times of my life. The Bible became real and alive to me. For the first time ever I could understand and enjoy this very word of God. And so my journey as a believer in Jesus began. It was a very special time for me. Everything was new and different. Everything seemed good. People were kind. I was baptized in full body immersion one evening. My mother was there. I remember that she cried.