Why

Sometimes, I wonder - if I had lived in Biblical times, who would I have been most like? I wonder if I would have even followed Jesus, because I would have been suspicious. I would have questioned; I would have scorned. 

I hope, though, that Jesus would have sought me out like he sought out the Samaritan woman at the well. And if He had, I know I would have been Martha, rushing around getting things done - not the Mary that I like to think I would have been.  And I understand dear doubting Thomas - I can almost hear myself saying exactly what he did, "unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe". Such disdain, such foolish self-confidence, I know I am capable of. 

On Sunday, I befriended a visitor to church and there was a moment, when she asked me, why did I become a Christian. And I missed the opportunity of that moment. I was tongue-tied. I couldn't explain. The Bible says, to always be ready to give a reason for my belief. Yet, at that moment, all I could say was "It's a long story". Because it is. It's a long story of a God who chased after me, a God who loved me even when I scorned Him, a God who intervened and turned me away from sin, a God who continued to hold me even when I doubted, when I faltered, when I failed Him. 

I've been thinking of that moment these past two days and wish I had had an answer ready for her. But I can't rehearse. That seems too glib. The words don't come out pat. I need to tell her, I am a Samaritan woman who has sinned again and again because I was searching for Someone to trust, believe and  hope in. I am Thomas who doubts and yet, has Him telling me again and again, "Do not disbelieve, but believe". I am Peter, who says "I do not know him" yet never have Him leave me. I am Gomer, faithless, yet wrapped up in Love. That's why.