The God I Didn’t Know
“They said I should be scared of doing things I know you don’t like. Saying sorry every day, Because I was so afraid That you’d leave me, so I left you, chasing dreams I never found.”
Olivia Lane; Who I Thought You Were
This is the relationship I had with God.
Growing up, I was taught about an angry God—a "Hell, Fire, and Brimstone" God. A God who would smite anyone who did wrong. Who would bar you from Heaven for even one misstep. A God who brought down consequences swiftly and severely for the smallest mistake. There was no grace, no mercy. I grew up fearing God. He was the “stern father” figure—no-nonsense, abrasive, and never had to explain anything.
(I sometimes wonder if this was a “scared straight” tactic passed down by the Southern Baptist Convention to keep us in line, but that’s a story for another day.)
In college, I found myself in places I never thought I’d end up, with people I never thought I’d meet. But it was fun. It was one of the first times I felt like myself—seen, understood, like I belonged. And I suppose that’s what a life of sin offers: fun, belonging, acceptance. But with the image of a wrathful God in my mind, I figured I had no place with Him anymore. So I left before He could leave me.
Most of my twenties were spent in bars and at parties, surrounded by chaos and in relationships that only led to pain. Sure, I made incredible friends, and I have wild stories that sound like scenes from a movie. But, truthfully, much of that time was filled with heartache, loneliness, and confusion. It was a paradox—some of the best times of my life, but also some of the worst.
Looking back, I realize I spent much of that time searching for something I was never going to find.
At one of my lowest points, I didn’t know where else to go, so I went to church one Sunday morning. It was a place I hadn’t stepped foot in for almost 10 years—a place I’d been running from. But I needed somewhere to hide, somewhere I could be vulnerable and fall apart. So I found the biggest church I could and sat in the back row.
I didn’t go looking for God. Why would He want anything to do with me? A party girl who made one mess after another, someone who ran from Him before He could reject me, like breaking up with someone before they could break up with you.
But I kept showing up, Sunday after Sunday, alone. And I just sat there and cried. For almost a year, I kept coming back.
And as I showed up, God showed up. Slowly. He never rushed, never pushed. I never felt shame or judgment. Week by week, I started to learn who God really was. He wasn’t angry or harsh; He was kind, loving, patient, and forgiving. He was the warm hug, the gentle hand on my shoulder. He never lectured me; He gave me space to hear who He truly was.
He showed me grace, mercy, and forgiveness—long before I even asked for it or deserved it. But He extended it anyway.
I’m so grateful that God never gave up on me, even when I had given up on Him. I’m thankful for the patience He extended as I found my way back to Him.
But most of all, I’m grateful that the God I was taught to fear is not who God truly is.
I’m living proof that God will leave the 99 to find the one. He wants you. He wants you in His fold. He wants a relationship with you.
You are never too far gone for God.