Conversion

The first definition you’ll find when you search the word conversion says it is the process of changing or causing something to change from one form to another. I find this interesting because of how a chain of events shifted things for me dramatically in the last few years. I see so much of life and my experiences differently because of what I’ve experienced.

So today, I find myself, hundreds of miles from home, attending the Good News Conference in Orlando, hoping to deepen my faith and my connection to the spirit within me. My life has drastically changed, and for the better. What orients me now is entirely different from the things I used to turn to, especially in times of need or trouble. It’s like someone handed me a new compass, shiny and beautiful, with lots of numbers and symbols that I'm learning to acquaint myself with for the first time. It’s both exciting and a bit bizarre.

When my accident happened in 2022, I knew my horse days were over. But not having decided that for myself changes how the ending feels. It was abruptly put on me. That happens to people in life, something comes and snags their forward movement, stops them in their tracks, ends a dream. Miscarriages, job loss, health issues. There are lots of abrupt endings thrust on people. It’s disorienting. Like in a bumper car, when you get hit from behind, you are put in a position to change directions abruptly. It can be jarring.

When that happened to me, I spent weeks on the couch with ice, a mound of pillows, and my dogs. I knew myself well enough to understand that the crossroads I stood at were ominous.

In one direction, I would take the wallowing route of “why God, why me,” which would be filled with darkness, somberness, anger, despair, and sniveling. This was the only path I had known in the past when things didn’t go my way or disappointment had descended.

But something was different this time. I had been given, in hindsight, what seemed to be a warning right before heading out on the ride that night. A voice in my head had said, “You’re going to end up in the ER tonight, but you’ll be ok.”

That thought, like many countless thoughts we all have, had risen and caught my attention, and kept coming back to me while I convalesced on the couch. But there was something different about its tone. At first, I thought it was just my mom’s nervous anxieties that I had inadvertently inherited from a young age.

But this had a different ring to it. There was no angst or panic with it. In fact, there was a kind of sarcasm to it, a playfulness almost. That different tone struck me enough to stay with me to this day.

A still, small voice. Yet one that resonated above all other voices. It stood out enough to haunt me.

So, while lying on mounds of pillows with multiple ice packs and puppies at my head and feet, I contemplated that voice. It led me back to the deep life questions I’ve had since I was a kid. Questions about God. What is He? Where is He? Who is He? What is His role in my life? Is He even real? I have always had a wondering about “the man upstairs,” as my mom and dad fondly referred to Him.

Growing up in a traditional 60s Catholic family, I was the last of 4 children with nine years between me and my closest sibling. We said grace before meals, went to church on Sundays, and my parents had a crucifix and a picture of baby Jesus hanging in the living room. I ran from Catholicism in the 80s after high school when abuse scandals plastered the front pages of every newspaper in the nation. I tried the new age thing, went to different church denominations, and eventually picked up the Bible when my son enlisted in the army, when my emotions were dismantling with worry. As my mom aged, she and I spent lots of time talking about God, religion, and faith, and we shared a love for Joyce Meyer. We read her books and shared our thoughts about how God works in our lives. Looking back, I can see it was like laying pavers on the path back to my faith in God, regardless of denomination.

Contemplating God while recuperating prompted me to do a lot of googling. I started watching The Chosen, a TV series about Jesus and His disciples, which had a tremendous impact on me. Seeing Jesus portrayed as a “regular” person who walked the earth with his disciples, alongside his disciples, also shown as “regular” people, opened my eyes to the fact that these people the Bible talked about, and whose stained-glass depictions hung in churches everywhere, were, in fact, actual people who walked the earth. Just like you and me.

Seeing the humanity of Jesus after hearing about His divinity my whole life transformed how I saw Him and how I understood the way He saw me —and everyone on this earth. I started listening to worship music, and found that there were a lot of incredibly cool songs and artists out there. The lyrics that spoke of other weary, lost, and wounded travelers along the road of life and how Jesus impacted their lives became a tether I hung onto. Eventually, I realized, looking back on my life, that God had been leaving these tidbits, these breadcrumbs, as a trail, inviting me to come and see who He really was and how important He was to my life.

Suddenly, or gradually, I’m not sure which, I saw things clearly. Like dominoes that fall from the lightest tap, my eyes were opened to who God was and what was happening to me. Things made sense. Life made sense. Even in the chaos and awful things that happened, I found peace and meaning.

I used to balk at the whole “religion thing.” When people talked about Jesus, I was uncomfortable. I did a lot of eye rolling. Hearing people talk about being saved, repenting, salvation - all that felt foreign and phony to me. I laughed at jokes made about “Jesus freaks” and “holy rollers,” and believe you me, I took His name in vain. A lot. Something for which I am gravely sorry now.

I wish I could explain how exactly it happened. Truth is, I’m not sure. So many statements I used to sneer at, I now see with conviction; I was one way, and now I’m another. That’s me.

What I do know is this: when I was at my lowest, I turned and tried to learn who and what God was. And in doing that, things started to present themselves to me differently. Like breadcrumbs, things fell in my path - a TV show, songs that spoke directly to my heart, other people’s stories, and my understanding, and my heart became recalibrated in a way that I could not have chosen or manipulated on my own.

I wish this conversion for everyone, especially these days. I’ve experienced, like everyone, a great amount of turmoil over the past few years. But I truly have a peace that surpasses understanding. I now rest in the knowledge that there is a God who is pure love, who has seen everything we humans do since the beginning of time, understands us better than we ever will, and His love is what will ultimately save us, whether it’s here or the other side of here.

My cousin once told me that Jesus is a gentleman. He isn’t pushy, He isn’t pompous, He isn’t flashy. He is there, waiting for His people to turn to Him and to inquire. To ask and to knock. Sometimes I have to remember to turn back to Him multiple times a day. But I keep turning to Him, and He keeps showing up, bringing me peace and understanding I never had. Whether it’s a song, a written word, a kind person, or a beautiful sunrise, He keeps showing up, so I keep turning. My life has been inexplicably turned around in a way I will forever be grateful for.

If you’re lost, in the dark, hurting, searching, and have run out of options, may I suggest you try a different approach? Try turning to God. Put on a Christian music station. Google what the bible says about how you are feeling. Grab a book that talks about how God works in our lives. Sit in a church. Sometimes it only takes the slightest turn to see a whole new road in front of you. A road where Jesus is stretching His hand out, offering to lead you to a better way.