There is No Other

My mom turned off the ignition, grabbed her purse and looked over the backseat.  "I'm just running in to get some cheese. I'll be right back."

"Ok," chorused three little voices as three sets of eyes watched her step out of the car.

Not long after she disappeared, my two-year-old sister, Janelle, started complaining, "I need to go potty.  I really need to go potty."

"She'll be back in a minute," I told her.

"But I really need to go," Janelle said.

"Fine.  You guys stay here.  I'll go find her," I replied.

I clamored out of the middle seat, opened the door and jumped out.

We were parked in the alleyway behind Albertson's, so I was rather certain she must have gone inside to get the cheese.  I walked around to the front and went inside.  I walked up an aisle.  I walked down another.  Then another.  And another.  I walked to the front of the store.

"Excuse me," I said to the cashier, "have you seen my mom?"

The cashier looked at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I haven't."

No one tried to stop me as I went through the door back outside.  I walked across the parking lot toward the stores that lined a side street.  As a walked down the street, I would stop to peer inside each store to see if I could spot my mom.  I couldn't.  I began to get scared.  After all, I was four-years-old and I couldn't find my mom.

I remember walking down the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face.  People passed me going the opposite direction.

This was it.  I was never going to find my mom again.  I was going to die.

God, help me!  Jesus, I want to be in heaven with you and my family.

It was the first time I remember calling out to God.

And then, through my tears, I saw a brown Oldsmobile coming toward me on the street.

Momma!  Momma!  Oh, Momma!  You found me!

-----------------------

The years passed.  I found myself sitting in a high-school physics class.  We were listening to a lecture on the Big Bang Theory.

The teacher finished his lecture and asked, "Any questions?"

I raised my hand.

"Yes, Melanie?"

"Where did the initial source of energy come from that powered the Big Bang?" I asked.

My teacher looked like he was about to blow a fuse.  "We're not talking about religion!"

Soft spot.  Someone's a little hyper-sensitive.

I never got an answer to my question.

------------------

As a family, we read the Bible together around the dinner table.  All my childhood I went to bible studies with my family.  We prayed together, we talked about God.

If you were to ask me, I would have told you that I was a Christian.  I believed that Jesus Christ was God's Son and that He died on the cross for my sins, was buried, suffered for three days, rose again, was seen and ascended to Heaven.

But from time to time, I would question what I believed.

Was Jesus even a real person?  No, don't use the Bible to prove it.  How do I know the Bible is even accurate?  The Bible hasn't even been compiled for more than half a dozen centuries.

Is there really a Creator?  What if we all did just accidentally evolve out of a pea-size piece of energy of unknown origin?  And even if they did figure out that the energy came from a parallel universe, how was THAT universe created?  Where did it all begin?

Why am I here?

Where am I going?

I also began to realize how many crazy fanatics were out there when I heard about the Waco, TX incident.  People who called themselves Christians were psycho, or at best, very weak and disillusioned.  They were people who couldn't think for themselves.  I didn't like the thought that I would be associated with those types of people.

How...how do I KNOW that I haven't believed a lie?

What are the chances that I was born in the United States, whose primary religion was "Christianity", to two parents who believed that Jesus was the answer?  Don't you think the Muslims are convinced they have the "right" religion?  Not to mention the dozens of other religions that I knew nothing about.

How to do know that this, JESUS, is the truth?

I wasn't getting all the cold, hard facts that I thought I wanted.  But that was only because God is neither hard, nor cold.

I would pray at times, Lord, I believe.  I do.  But sometimes my faith is so small.  And it wavers.

But God is faithful.  He's good.  He's patient.  He's powerful.  And He's loving.

His love.  It was the one thing I couldn't get away from.  It whispered to my soul.

I saw His love at work in others' lives.  That love had the power to change people.  It wasn't religion, it wasn't "Christianity".  It was His love.

And when I talked to Him, there was no denying it.

I knew my heart was deceitful.  It was dirty.  It was dark.  And still, He whispered.  He whispered as I drove down the road, as a drank in sunshine on summer days, as I sprawled out on the cool grass next to my dog.  He whispered:  "I love you, Melanie."

So, the decided, at the age of 19, that I didn't care what other people thought.  I didn't care that I didn't have all the answers.  I didn't care that I didn't know the exact "date" when I came the Christ.  Because it really didn't matter.  The only thing that mattered was that He cared about me.  I was His and He was mine.

And because of that love He extended to me, I wanted Him to have everything.  I wanted Him to have it all.  I wanted every day to be to the praise of His glorious grace.

So, now He's molding me.  He's making me.  Sometimes I try to close Him out.  But always, always He's ready and waiting.  He has brought me more joy than I can express.  More peace.  More hope.

He is my Rock.  He is my Counselor, my Mighty Defender.

There is none like Him.

He is God and there is no other.

"One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that You, oh God, are strong and that You, oh God, are loving." Psalm 62:11-12