By Revd Chrys M Tremththanmor
I moved to Bridgend, Wales in 2001. For some years I had thought of leaving my position with NatWest Bank and going back to university to get a PhD and to lecture, preferably in theology. I was also contemplating whether I was called to serve God as a priest.
Just up the road from where I lived was the Wales Evangelical School of Theology. I decided to take some courses there to sort of dip my toe in the water. Could I still write decent essays after all my years in employment?
The college said I could apply, but warned me that, since I was a woman, I would not be allowed to lead worship or to preach. Never mind. The application form was easy to fill. What took me more time was that I had to write an A4 page telling the college of my conversion experience.
Well, that stumped me. I don’t have a single, great conversion experience to tell about. Whatever I did come up with seemed to satisfy the principal, and I was allowed to take a couple of courses. I fit them around my job in the bank.
As I got to know fellow students they began to tell me their conversion experiences. Wow. They all seemed to have had these great visions of God in his (it was always HIS) glory, sitting on his throne in majesty and angels in attendance. Just like St Paul, or St Francis, or other saints, they were struck down by the glory of God and they glowed when they told their emotional stories. I always felt somewhat inadequate when asked for my rather lacklustre tale.
When I lived in the USA I was used to complete strangers asking me, ‘Are you born again?’ Or that other question, ‘Are you saved?’ (The temptation is to answer, ‘Yes, with the Halifax.’) There is a strand of Christianity which emphasises an emotional, personal conversion experience. I have known people who can give time, date, and place at which they were ‘saved.’ No doubt some of you are listening to me today. Please don’t get me wrong, I think that is fantastic. But I also don’t think it’s an experience everyone shares.
I don’t know why God reveals himself like that to some people. The stories of our saints are filled with wonderful revelations from God. It does seem to give saints a great certainty which I don’t always share. I have my ups and downs with God, sometimes I’m certain of his love and support. Other times he seems far away and I wonder if my previous experiences were just some sort of delusion. I find myself envying St Paul and the conversion experience which gave him the courage to proclaim the Gospel in the face of opposition both inside and outside of the church. I sometimes with I could have that closeness that St Francis had to Jesus. Or even to have had that chance to walk with Jesus in the flesh, as did his apostles.
I may be wrong here, but I think if I took a straw poll of most Anglicans we’d agree that we haven’t had that overwhelming road to Damascus moment. For most of us it’s been a series, and continues to be a series, of small steps along the way. A particular hymn has struck us, a friend who said the right thing at the right time, maybe even a memorable sermon! (We preachers do live in hope.)
Sometimes those who are ‘born again’ don’t understand those of us who don’t have that single moment of conversion to talk about. Those of us who have only lots of small steps to look back on are no less a Christian, no less committed to Jesus, than those like the saints who have had some great moment of conversion. I think the small steps experience is more likely among people who are more thinking people than emotional people. I’m not saying ‘more intelligent’ versus ‘less intelligent’, by the way. But some people do live more by thinking than emotion, more ‘in their heads’ than ‘in their hearts’. And these head people, in my experience, are more likely to have become convinced of the truth of the incarnate God in Jesus through reasoned thought and study than through an overwhelmingly emotional moment.
That rational acceptance of Jesus as the Christ, often without much emotion, was the experience of Peter, a friend of mine. For him it was reading Mere Christianity by CS Lewis. Peter served as a well-loved priest for forty years and he has told me that he has rarely had an emotional experience of God. For him it is because, he told me, ‘only with Jesus does the world make sense’ that he is a Christian.
I too finally came to accept Jesus as Lord and Saviour by reading what some have called the modern CS Lewis, namely NT Wright. Intellectual conversion is no less valid than an emotional one and, as I said earlier, I think it comes down to difference in personality.
Whether your conversion was like St Paul’s, or more of that gradual one, I think it’s worthwhile to spend time remembering it. We never know when we might have the chance to talk to someone about our faith. As we are told in the first letter to Peter, ‘Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.’ What people respect is a personal story as to why you find value in being a Christian, why you go to church. You don’t have to be a saint. So I would urge you all occasionally remind yourselves of the steps which have led you to being here this evening. Those steps, whether one large one or many small ones, whether emotional or intellectual, form the testimony which could enable another to find Jesus for themselves. Amen.