John 3:3 Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
Born Again
I remember that day I became born again quite vividly. When
you are born again in Christ, it’s not a day you can ever lightly forget.
Christians worldwide can’t quite remember when they became a Christian, but
being born again? They never forget that day.
I told my family in my excitement and they responded
negatively to my announcement, 'I’m born again!' They said mean things like,
“She’s being brainwashed,” “Don’t be spitting that Jesus stuff on ME.” And “Now
she’ll be a Jesus freak.”
They were right, not about being brainwashed but about
becoming a Jesus freak. As I’ve said before, I was being raised Catholic and
the day I became Born Again I converted to Christianity. I was giving my life
to Christ and my family didn’t know, didn’t understand what that meant.
My new school was a Christian based school and I was
learning new things I had never learned about in my eight years during my
Catholic elementary school. I had NEVER in my life heard the term Born Again. I
didn’t know what it was. How can someone become BORN again?
The change began in my eighth grade year. I was on my way to
completing one of the seven sacraments that it takes to be, I guess, initiated
(?) into the Catholic religion. Confirmation was important to the teachers and nuns and the
priests and all year long we worked on the meaning of Confirmation.
My mind swirled like storm-warning clouds as you can imagine
for a thirteen year old. I was feeling the Lord deeply in my soul. He was
moving within me and confirmation was confusing me especially when I was asked
to tell a priest my sins. I had had a private meeting (like all of my
classmates) with the priest and since I didn’t/couldn’t answer his questions I
was deemed unconfirmable, which means one strike against me being confirmed.
The second strike came when we were to go to the church and
have confession. You might call me defiant or stubborn, but I WOULD NOT tell
the priest my sins! Sister Margaret Mary asked me why, “Why Joni, why?”
I bluntly told her that a priest cannot forgive my sins,
only God had the power to do that. She rolled her eyes with a tight
smile on her face and said, “You’re right.” A long pause, then she said
something that changed my life, “God has a special plan for you, Joni. You
don’t conform, I like that. Maybe you’re not meant to be in the Catholic
religion. Only God knows.”
She had the sweetest smile when saying that. Any other nun
would have been shocked and aghast but not her, she and Sister Karl Ann had
said over the years that they saw something special in me. So my saying this
did not shock her like I thought it would have.
That year, I was denied confirmation. I should have known
that since I had picked Saint Joan of Arc as my patron saint. She was a
persecuted saint. She talked with God on a regular basis (not much unlike
myself) and she was burned at the stake. Sister Margaret Mary had wanted me to
pick St. Christopher (the Christ bearer) or Saint Francis of Assisi (patron
saint of animals) but no, I chose the patron saint of my God given name, St.
Joan of Arc.
Being denied confirmation, I was told by my father that I
had shamed the family, the only one in his memory who had EVER been denied
confirmation in the Catholic-in-name-only family. Persecuted, I felt persecuted.
The night my classmates were confirmed, Sr. MM had told me I
could sit up in the balcony and watch the service and that is exactly what I
did. This was the night I was confirmed by God! Not by a priest, not by man,
but by God himself. As the Spirit of the Lord washed over me tears fell from my
eyes landing in Sr. MM hands as the procession of classmates cleared the
church, she looked up at me and smiled. She knew, God had confirmed me.
It was the following year at Christian Liberty Academy that
I became Born Again. We had watched a heart-wrenching movie on salvation and
afterward we (all 28 of my fellow classmates) gathered around in a circle and
fervently prayed. Tears were shared, emotions were high, the power of prayer
consumed me, and as the Holy Spirit filled the room, satiated my soul, I gave
my life to Christ. I was not just confirmed by God this time; the entire
trinity wrapped warm arms around me and welcomed me to the family.
My life would never be the same again. As with all born
again Christians, we remember distinctly the day we gave our life over to God,
we distinctly remember the day we were ‘Born Again’. We became a newborn all
over again, living for Christ and nothing else. Christ, our birthmark, would
mark our every move. We wear Him on our skin for all the world to see. And like
a newborn babe, everyone looks at us too see the beauty that we hold.
1 Pet. 1: 23 Being born again, not of corruptible
seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for
ever.
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