“If I find in myself a desire in which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” -C.S. Lewis
Faith, I’m certain, is a journey.
I may have given my life to Christ as a freshman in college, but God was nowhere (and is nowhere) close to finishing the good work he started that day in my dorm room. Nowhere close.
I grew up in a semi-religious home. We went to church on Sundays. My brother and I went to religion class on Wednesdays. I used to think that as long as my good outweighed the bad, I was pretty much fine. And as far as the Bible? It was just a bunch of rules and disjointed stories and tips for moral living that pastors and priests and reverends would read to help them teach on Sundays.
Then my parents got divorced and we stopped going to church.
A couple years later, my dad gave his life to Christ. My mom got baptized Mormon. And I pretty much stayed out of it.
Until my freshman year of college. Madison, WI. Witte Hall. Tenth floor.
I opened the Bible my dad gave me for my graduation and read the book of Matthew. Then Mark. Then Luke. Then John. And when I was finished, I got down on my knees and told God I didn’t want to do this life-thing on my own anymore.
It was the first time I realized Christianity is not about religion. It’s not some man-made effort to reach a far-away God. It’s not about a list of rules. It’s not about being good. And the Bible is so much more than a bunch of old, disjointed stories that pastors and priests and reverends read to help them teach on Sundays.
It was the first time I realized Christianity is about a relationship. It’s about a merciful Father reaching down into a broken world to rescue His beloved creation. It’s about freedom and joy. It’s about undeserved, amazing grace. And despite having sixty-six books, forty-something authors, and a time span that reaches past a thousand years, the Bible weaves itself together to form one single metanarrative. One single overarching story. And that story is a message of redemption.
Since that moment on my dorm room floor, God continues to woo me, to draw me in, to lovingly peel my fingers away from the things I hold so tightly and whisper, “Let go, Katie. I’ve got this.”
Since that moment on my dorm room floor, I’ve discovered that God’s love language is obedience and when I step out in faith, He shows up in amazing, amazing ways.
Since that moment on my dorm room floor, I’ve seen a world that is hurting. A world that is broken. And people are digging through the mire of that hurt and brokenness, hoping to find satisfaction for a longing this place was never meant to satisfy.
Which is ultimately why I write inspirational fiction. I want my words to point to the hope we’re all searching for. I want my words to point to the truth.
That while we were battered, bruised, and broken. Marred with scars. Covered in filth. Jesus laid down His life to rescue us. Writing these stories reminds me that He is the answer to our longing. I hope it reminds others too.