The Golden Thread

I’ll never forget that wild-eyed man. Or the gun he had pressed to my head.

I was 16 years old.

And I was at church camp.

The Columbine massacre had just began a new and horrifying chapter in American history, and Christian culture had latched on to a particular of the incident. The shooter had asked a young teen if she believed in God. She said yes, and he shot her.

‘She said yes!!’ became a rallying cry for Christians to stand up for their faith no matter what. This particular church camp meeting was hammering this theme, and the wild-eyed preacher had a shocking role play in mind. Would you say yes? With a gun to your head? He walked around the room of emotionally ramped up teenagers, and acting the part of the shooter held a real gun to various heads, shouting, ‘DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?’

I was one such teenager. “YES!” I sobbed bravely.

As an adult I’ve looked back on this meeting and this man and thought – “What the hell??” Recalling some of his other sermons, I’m somewhat retrospectively convinced he was mentally ill. And walking around a room full of teenagers with a gun without a single adult questioning him. Because it was powerful.

This story is an example of some of the perplexing and concerning things I’ve seen, heard, or experienced as a person raised deeply in Christianity. Particularly in the charismatic vein.

There’s at times a darkness to be found in the church. In it’s history, in its protection of abusers and silencing of victims, in its unholy, powerful alliances, in its willful ignorance. This, along with my some of my odder experiences and my encounter with the ‘new atheist’ movement in college ought to have deconstructed my faith to the point of oblivion.

But it didn’t.

Because I’ve had other, equally powerful experiences. As a young person I had the privilege to sit around the table with many people from many cultures and hear the incredible stories of their encounters with Christ. How they were rescued from darkness and hopelessness and given new life. In some instances, how they were miraculously healed. I prayed and cried with my family when our Quechuan friend Romelo was killed by soldiers in the mountains of Peru, a marked man for preaching the peace of Christ in the midst of violence.

I’m the product of a decades long marriage in which my mom and dad had separate experiences of God speaking to them, telling them to marry each other, even though they were barely friends.

My Grandfather’s entire adult life is a miracle of God’s grace after he encountered Christ as a young man.

I remember my dad praying over a gangster on the street of Tacoma after a random encounter. The young man looked at him in literal shock and asked, ‘What did you just do to me? I felt that!’

Stories, people, encounters, experiences that seem to glow with an otherworldly light. That inspire me and spark in me a deep, deep longing.

I’ve come to call this ‘the Golden Thread’. It weaves through history, through people, places and churches, and it shines with the light of heaven. Where it goes healing, hope, renewal, and transformation follow. Some people and some churches seem a tapestry woven almost entirely of this thread, while others, whatever they may call themselves, lack it completely.

My soul is deeply familiar with this Golden Thread – and God help me, I’ll follow it until it leads me to the arms of Jesus.