Between the Head and the Heart

I never had a conversion experience. 

 

I was raised in a Christian home.  I "accepted Christ" at the ripe old age of 5.  I always went to church.  I still do.

 

When I was little I memorized everything a good little Christian should.  I knew dozens of Bible verses, the creeds, the Lord's Prayer.  By the time I was in high school I knew all the answers.  I knew what I was supposed to say, I knew what I was supposed to do, and I knew what I was supposed to believe.  And for the most part I did.  I still do.

 

I never had a conversion experience.  I never experienced the radical transformation you hear about in the stories.  Christianity was never an emotional response for me.  I rarely had an emotional response to God, again, because I lacked any kind of a life-changing God-experience.

 

And so, like countless other good Christian kids out there, I faked it.  I closed my eyes and willed myself to feel something when I sang or prayed.  I hoped the kid next to me with raised hands didn't know.  I hoped the girl with bright tears in her eyes couldn't tell. 

 

But I knew I believed.  I knew that Jesus was important and I actively engaged in a relationship with Him.  I prayed and read my Bible every day.  Maybe it was just an intellectual response to God.  People told me they appreciated how I loved God with my mind.  Ah, but to love God with all my heart!!

 

This is something I still struggle with.  How do you bridge the gap between the head and the heart?  I have since come to the conclusion that maybe different people engage God in different ways, and I know my dominant method of engaging with Him is intellectually.  But still, we're called to love Him with all of our heart, mind, soul and strength, and I can't help but think that I'm way behind in the heart category.  Heck, I know I'm behind in all the categories (who isn't?) but it is the heart category that I struggle with the most.

 

Sometimes I still fake it.  But I also realize that I don't have to raise my hands or dance or cry during a song to feel God.  The ardentness of my voice in public prayer means nothing to God. 

 

And, after all, Christianity isn't about a feeling is it?  It's about a God who loved His fallen, screwed-up children so much that He died for them.  He died for me.  I've always believed that.  And I still do.