Tim Davis is Pastor of Peace Mennonite Community Church, Aurora Colorado. He is pictured here with his wife, Charlene.
“In the beginning…“ I was found. Lost and wandering aimlessly, I heard the words, familiar to many, that “Jesus loved me” (Rev. 1:5). Those words had trampolined off my ears in years foregone and for some reason this time they sank deep into the soil of my soul.
I read those horrible, wonderful words, “He will convict the world of sin, righteousness and judgment” (John 16:8). My mind was wrenched, my soul relieved. Transformation began (John 17:17), difficult choices followed. Friends changed, church doors opened, questions flooded my psyche. New brothers and sisters (Mark 3:35), people with a love for the Scripture and its God (2 Tim. 3:16) became supports for my infantile faith. For every answer I found, there were two more questions. I devoured texts of Scripture as a starving man devours bread, for this truly was the bread of life (Matt. 4:4). The life I had pretended to live was nothing more than being adrift with no rudder or sail, a sheep without a shepherd (Luke 15:4). I rejoiced I had found the Shepherd. I found that He had found me (Rom. 1:7).
The Word transformed my thinking. I prayed. Scripture was alive, active, sharper than any two-edged sword (Heb. 4:12). If I were to continue reading this profound and holy tome, I was going to have to deal with the most illusive of thoughts, the very hidden motives that drove my behaviors. No longer could I be a mere projection of what I wanted people to think of me. I had to choose goodness to the core of my being, to the parts of me that no one but the Holy Spirit could see (Romans 2:16). I knew that to become a disciple of this profound Christ, I had to choose the heart of Christ in truth (John 8:32). Truth was painful, for my centered-self loved the praise of other humans rather than the praise of God (Romans 2:29). This transformation of thinking, this sanctification of soul (John 17:19) righted my helter-skelter world. And the truth of it became self-evident (John 8:32).
Having studied human behavior and theories of psychology and sociology, I became convinced that humankind’s greatest need was not the counselor’s couch nor the pharmacist’s prescriptions. Faith, trust in our Maker, calmed my fears (Hebrews 11:1ff) and assured my mind of things not seen and yet more solid than the ground beneath me. My soul discovered something I could count on at every turn, someone who would never betray me.
The Scripture called for wisdom and insight and its authors made me a student of all creation. I studied the sciences, seeing in them a wonder and magnificence indescribable. Astronomy declared an infinite glory and power (Psalm 19) beyond human comprehension. I could only gaze skyward with awe in worship of a designer of infinite power. This study of every aspect of the world as I experienced it only confirmed the reality of a mind, an immeasurable mind (Isaiah 55:9). The Omniscient One works in every aspect of life to bring about an ultimate purpose in my life and throughout the world that is good, good, good beyond human understanding (Romans 8:28). This beneficence transcends the foibles of humanity with its seeking of self-glory and love for sensual pleasure, to a goodness that is born of love, defined not merely by ease of life. For Christ in his agape love demonstrated that love is long-suffering, holy and good (1 Cor. 13). We have seen and beheld his glory (John 1:14).
In Him was…no, not was. In Him is life. And the light shines in our darkness through history as Scripture recorded for our sakes, and the darkness has not comprehended it (John 1:5).
The Mennonite, Inc., is currently reviewing its Comments Policy. During this review, commenting on new articles is disabled. Comments that were previously approved will still appear. Comments on older articles can continue to be submitted for review in accordance with the policy below. To promote constructive dialogue, the editors of The Mennonite moderate all comments and comments don’t appear until approved. Anonymous comments are not accepted. Writers must sign posts or log into Disqus with their first and last name. Read our full Comments Policy.