Freaky Friday

The other day a friend of mine instant-messaged me, “How come you never publish any happy letters?”

“Well, for one, I rarely get any.” As I was typing that reply I got an email alert. Waiting in my inbox was this letter:

Dear John Shore,

Since finding your blog/website last week, I have read many of your posts. I loved your conversion story best of all. [Here.]

Something similar happened to me in 1995. I was part of a new age group that professed to have secret wisdom that would make your life blissfully happy.

However, I was so unhappy. No matter how many days I fasted, or what combinations of foods I ate, or how many hours I did yoga and meditated, or what prayers I said, I never felt I could ever achieve the the expected level of peace and tranquility the cult taught me I was supposed to feel.

And one day I simply recognized that I was deeply and profoundly unhappy and that whatever I had been doing just wasn’t working.

I figured I should give Christianity a try. I mean, why not? Nothing else seemed to work. And then it was as if a scrim lifted and I had literally been seeing through a glass darkly as Paul said. When I understood, things became crystal clear.

This is not to say that my life was suddenly perfect. It’s been a tough walk. But what I loved about your confession of faith is your matter of factness. I too can’t quite explain the mystery of God, but I accept the truth of God: He loves us and he walked among us as Jesus, and he died for us, and we are saved because of his death and resurrection. And He wants us to be joyful and happy and spread the good news (not convert people into a political party). And that’s it.

Now I am officially a Jesus freak.

People always say that God works in strange and mysterious ways. And I’m sure that in some people’s lives he does. (Well, maybe, actually.) But I suspect God knows I’m too dense for him to be too subtle around. So instead he just … does stuff like this. (And yes, I know that God’s not a man.)