A couple of years ago I heard a lesson in which the speaker presented an interesting question: “What does it feel like to be a Christian?” It is an intriguing question, particularly for me. Growing up, feelings were not something that was important. In fact, to express a feeling about what you believed would immediately discredit your belief i.e. “I just feel as …”. What was most important was truth … objective, verifiable and certain. Feelings were not apart of a truth equation. In that context, feeling like a Christian would most likely be akin to the the feelings we enjoy when we are proven to be right. A sense of self-satisfaction, self-rightness. It is a great feeling to know that you KNOW.
Describing what it feels like to be a Christian takes on a different dimension when the question is modified. “What does it feel like to have Christ living in you?”… What does it feel like when you are abiding in Christ and he is abiding in you?”… “What does it feel like when the Holy Spirit lives within you?” …”What does it feel like when you no longer live but Christ lives in you?” What these questions, and numerous other similiar ones we might ask, presume/imply is an intimate relationship.
I do not suppose there is a “correct” answer but there are two metaphors I have used that I believe helpful in my search to understand what it feels like to be Christian. The first metaphor comes out of my own childhood experiece and the second is one I read and have long since forgotten its source.
One of my earliest childhood memories is an occasion when I was riding in the back seat of our family’s car. My mother and father were in the front seat. It was a summer evening and we were driving home. The windows were down and the cool wind was blowing across the backseat. I had curled up on the seat and was listening to my parents’ casual conversation. I distinctly remember the overwhelming sense of comfort and safety as we drove along. The breeze was like a refreshing warm shower. My parents voices were audible remeinders of their presence and protection. Even now as I write these words while on my front porch, there is a gentle breeze blowing across my neck that recalls that occasion. I cannot explain how such an apparently insignificant experience has remained with me. In that experience I believe there may well be a glimpse of what it feels like to be Christian.
The second metaphor is a scene in a lovely city park. A park with lush green grass and tall shading trees. There is a playground with a child and his mother. While the mother is seated on a nearby bench, the child, by all appearances, seems to be totally unware his mother’s presence. He is happily playing and exploring. It is obvious his mother is continually aware of him but he he is not concerned. He knows that she is there and that she loves and cares for him but his focus is on being a boy. Only his occasional glance to verify her presence betrays his concern for her presence and protection. Suddenly the scene changes dramatically, playing on the gym bars, the child loses his grip and falls to the ground suffering a painful scrape to his knees. In that moment, he cries out for his mother and rushes without hesitation to her arms where he is comforted, reassured and healed by her gentle kisses. In a short time he returns to his play confident in his trust of his mother.