A Rome for Restless Hearts

A Rome for Restless Hearts

Chapter 1

Who Is Jesus?

I love You, beloved Jesus; I love You more than I love myself. With all my heart I repent of ever having offended You. Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will. —Saint Alphonsus Liguori

First Impressions

When I was about eight years old, I was in a Bible club called Awana. We met weekly, played games, and heard Bible stories. Much like Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, in Awana you received little merit badges and moved up in rank when you completed tasks like attending meetings, memorizing Bible verses, or reciting Christian teachings.

On one occasion I was on the verge of earning my next achievement award and only had one verse left to memorize. I read that verse over and over again, trying to get those ancient words to stick. For some reason, this one was more challenging than all the other verses I had memorized. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get any of those words to stay in my head. Every time I’d ask my mom to quiz me, I’d forget words and even whole sections.

The day of our next Awana meeting was quickly approaching, and I didn’t seem any closer to having that verse memorized than when I had begun! Frantically I asked my mom if she had any advice. She suggested I pray about it. She said that since the verse was about Jesus, He might want to help me remember what it says. I hadn’t considered asking for Jesus’s help, but what she said made sense.

So the night before my next Awana meeting I decided to give prayer a try. As I lay in bed, I asked Jesus for help to memorize this verse. I told Him how hard I’d worked and how much I wanted to move forward in the group. I ended the whole prayer with a little “Amen” as I dozed off to sleep.

That night, I had a simple yet profound dream. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard a man’s voice reciting the verse I’d been working so hard to memorize. What made this dream so indelible was how I felt at the sound of this man’s voice. I felt safe, at peace, comforted, loved, seen, and excited. Even those words can’t fully describe the feeling brought by that voice. And though I couldn’t see anything, and I’d never heard that voice before, I knew Jesus was the one speaking.

As quickly as the dream began, once the verse had been recited the dream ended. I woke up the next morning and knew the verse by heart! I was so excited! Jesus had heard my tiny little prayer and helped me out!

Through the years, the verse ended up fading from my mind so much that I can no longer tell you what it said, but I have never forgotten that voice. I’ve walked through many seasons where I’ve wavered in my faith and wrestled with doubts: Is God real? Did Jesus really exist? Do I actually believe any of this? Each time I crept close to giving up on my faith, the memory of that dream would come back to me like a lifeline, pulling me out of a sea of doubt and reminding me of the tangible reality of that voice and the existence of the one who spoke.

My Best Friend/Savior

I’d been taught by my family, Bible clubs, camps, vacation Bible schools, and the churches I attended that Jesus was the Son of God who came down from heaven, lived a holy life, taught divine wisdom, performed miracles, and was condemned to death on a cross to save us from our sins. He rose from the dead three days later, and then forty days after that ascended into heaven. I was also taught that He would return again at some unknown moment to judge all humanity.

The way I was raised to engage with Jesus was to ask Him to be my personal savior, ask His forgiveness when I sinned, and talk to Him as often as possible. I was encouraged by pastors, youth pastors, and Sunday School teachers to read the Bible daily in order to learn more about Jesus.

I did all this and more. When I was a little girl I would lie in bed and talk to Him about my day. Sometimes I’d even pretend my pillow was His lap as I lay there in the darkness believing that the Light of the World was ever by my side. As soon as I learned to read, I was reading the Bible. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Jesus and see what He had to say as well.

In my teen years I began to see Him as my best friend: an epic best friend who had died to save my life, one who knew everything about me and loved me, and would never leave my side. My family went through some difficult seasons of extreme poverty, and I saw His hand in providing food and even a car, just when we needed those things the most.

In my early twenties I read a book, Your Knight in Shining Armor by P. “Bunny” Wilson, that talked about going on dates with Jesus, and I didn’t have to think twice about incorporating that into my life. I’d plan picnics, walks, movies, and long drives all with the purpose of spending alone time with Jesus. Just before the first of these dates, one of my best friends had a couple of roses delivered to my house. Jesus seemed to coordinate the timing of their delivery: They showed up just as I was about to leave.

Strained Relationship

As beautiful as my relationship with Jesus was, I knew His deep love wasn’t just for me but for everyone. The more I learned about Him, the more I loved Him and wanted to be like Him—especially in how He loved others.

By the time I was 23, while all my friends were graduating from college, I felt that Jesus was finally calling me to go to college. I picked a Protestant Christian college where I planned to major in the Bible and theology, because I knew that however I served the Lord, those two subjects would be helpful. I also wanted to write books that would help people grow closer to Jesus, so I tacked on a major in journalism to sharpen my writing skills.

I saw this time as a huge adventure—setting out into the world to begin a life of learning more about Jesus and ministering to others in His name. The hardest part was leaving all my friends and especially my family behind, but I trusted that living life for Jesus was worth the sacrifice.

My first semester was amazing, but by finals week things with my family were falling apart. I’d grown up in a broken home full of divorce, poverty, and neglect, and as the oldest of my siblings I felt a great responsibility to take care of everyone. I was convinced that if I had stayed everything would have been fine, and I grew to feel a new emotion toward Jesus: anger. I began to blame Him for my family falling apart. After all, He was God, which meant He had known what would happen to my family if I left. And yet He had asked me to take a leap of faith and go to college.

Since I now found myself angry at the very person I was studying, I considered quitting school, but I felt like Jesus was asking me to stay. Despite my anger, I remained. I now found myself pretending to have affection for Jesus while harboring deep anger and resentment toward Him.

I lived with this inner conflict for a couple of years: studying the Bible, going to church, and serving in ministry, all while being unable to let go of my anger toward Jesus. I even began daydreaming about quitting school and starting a brand-new life that didn’t involve Him or Christianity. I couldn’t imagine letting go of my anger, and I figured quitting would be easier. Then I would no longer feel like a hypocrite and wouldn’t have to think about my broken relationship with Him—the former love of my life.

Of course, Jesus knew what was in my mind and heart. I still talked to Him, but I avoided addressing my anger with Him, which made my relationship with Him extremely uncomfortable.

And then the unexpected happened. Jesus gave me permission to leave Him. I had been daydreaming, per usual, about leaving school and living my non-Christian, non-Jesus life when that still, small voice spoke into my heart.

“You are free to go.”

It’s easy to get lost in a daydream about the grass being greener on the other side of a fence that you think you’ll never cross. But when given the opportunity to actually cross the fence, you’ll find out whether or not the dream has substance. In being told I was free to go, my real feelings were immediately revealed.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach—not at the very real thought of leaving everything behind, but at the thought of living my life without Jesus.

My response to Jesus was immediate: “Where else would I go, Lord?! You alone have the words of eternal life! Wait . . . did I just quote Scripture?”

I burst out laughing. My heart was revealed. I wanted to complain, but I didn’t actually want to go anywhere. This reality sunk in even more as I reflected on the passage of Scripture I had quoted. They were the words of Saint Peter in the Book of John, Chapter 6. Jesus had just talked about the importance of eating His flesh and blood only to have a bunch of His followers, understandably horrified and confused, leave Him.

Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:67–69, NABRE)

In that moment, the bitterness I’d been holding on to for years faded away. In His deep love and compassion for me, Jesus had held up a mirror for me to see my heart. I knew that I didn’t want a life without Christ, and that I needed to work through my feelings in order to heal my relationship with Him.