HOME / PROCLAMATION! MAGAZINE / 2008 / NOVEMBER/DECEMBER / STORIES OF FAITH

NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2008
VOLUME 9, ISSUE 6

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D E P A R T M E N T S

STORIES of Faith

Journey from fear to faith

Barbra Crew Schaak

 

Within the march of a few years we have journeyed from a works-based religion toward a new belief system based on faith. The path from works to faith has not been smooth. Menacing boulders blocked our way; we stumbled and fell, but bruised and battered, continued on, mindful of God's watchful hand guiding each stumbling step.

Faith is simple, direct, and necessary. A belief in works is neither simple nor direct. It requires an energetic and often slavish capacity to follow a variety of rules, laws, and mandates regardless of understanding.

Throughout the course of our personal journey, faith has been the ultimate goal. We have tried to duplicate the prayer of the New Testament father whose son was cruelly possessed by demons as he answers Jesus saying, "I do believe; help me in my unbelief" (Mark 9:24 New American Standard Bible.)

In the past, our family faithfully (see how mindlessly I tossed that word out) attended church services each Sabbath in a small downtown Seventh-day Adventist church and could be counted upon to participate in all aspects of church faithfulness (yes, there is that word again) from filling church offices doing anything from teaching tiny tots or teens, to church elder, and most responsibilities in between. We faithfully (yes, our word once more) took our four sons to church, and when they seemed of an age to understand the concept, celebrated their desire for baptism into the "true" church. We were good Old Testament Christians, having a sparse, but not a working identification with the New Testament covenant of faith, a concept we did not fully comprehend.

It seems strange now, that with our feet firmly planted in works, we clung to the faith text of John 3:16, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only son so that anyone who believes in him should have eternal life." (The Living Bible) Looking back we realize that the true message of faith and belief in this text eluded us.

This had long been our church—our faith. It was the church to which my grandmother had taken me as a child—the denomination into which my husband had been born. We had learned to accept it as the "true" church. After all, we felt it was necessary to understand and to obey all of God's many commandments.

There were pitfalls—our salvation was purchased by what we did, said, and thought. To achieve this required diligence—a careful watchfulness of each thought and action, a daunting if not impossible task. We bought all the "prophecy" books and tried to understand the E.G. White philosophy of salvation through obedience and works. We poured through the religion's periodicals without finding any understanding of God's purpose for salvation. We simply had to work harder.

 

Halting steps toward faith

Our first halting steps away from works and toward faith came as the membership grew out of the tiny downtown church, and a "building project" was begun. Denominational fundraisers descended upon the little congregation; families were separated, and the husbands were pressured into signing a pre-determined monetary pledge for the building fund.

There was simply no way we could meet our assigned "pledge" amount and also obtain the basic necessities of life. We had four children to feed, clothe, and send to church school on one salary; money was beyond tight. I was taking education classes at a nearby university hoping to avoid returning to the secretarial jobs I had previously held.

The specter of this wretched pledge made financial stability impossible. We could never work hard enough or cut back enough to cover all necessities and also keep up with the seemingly "mandated by God" enormous pledge payments. Depression set in. Our eternal fate was sealed. We knew from our Old Testament and E.G. White studies that God would hold us in default of this pledge. There was no way out. A large tear began to make an insidious rip in our religious armor.

When I received my teaching credential, I accepted a position teaching in a small church school two hundred miles away, since there were no openings close to home. Faith was tried once again. My husband left his secure job of fifteen years, and we sold our home so that we could take advantage of this opportunity and God's leading. We moved. The family dynamics reversed for a time, and we found ourselves once again existing on one salary—this time mine. At the time, women in denominational employ would not be considered "head of the household" and thus were paid on a separate and lower scale than men. I also found that I was the only state-credentialed teacher in the school, but there was mandated religious and E.G. White coursework necessary to obtain the denominational credential required by the church. Since my degree was from a state university, I could not continue teaching in the Adventist school without it. Our financial hardships continued, and the old pledge remained a huge, darkly-ominous mountain.

In the midst of this financial uncertainty, the unthinkable happened. At the close of my fifth year at the school, I lost my job! No reason was given—just termination. Looking back, I'm sure my firing was in part precipitated by my stubborn determination not to march in the lock-step pattern preferred by denominational education, and also by my habit of treating all children as valuable individuals, regardless of their financial situation. We were certain now that God had utterly forsaken us, most probably due to that unpaid but far-from-forgotten pledge.

 

Unthinkable tragedy

Time passed, and to our surprise, complete disaster did not materialize. My husband took and passed the contractor's license test and opened his own business. I substitute-taught for a year and finally took a position teaching eighth grade English at a middle school only a mile from home. Life seemed to be improving; did this mean that God was no longer angry with us?

It was then that unthinkable tragedy struck. Our youngest son had attended a New Year's Eve party when he decided he was not having any fun. So in his typical pattern of acting first and thinking second, he started for home—a walk of about five miles in the middle of the night as his car was safely tucked away at home. About a mile from home he was struck and killed by a drunk driver.

Life as we had known it was over. Survival was unquestionably impossible without this eighteen-year-old ray of sunshine. Devastation settled in upon our entire family.

We cried, our brains numb. I, seemingly alone, shook my fist at God and announced that He had made a BIG mistake. We received sympathy cards from people who had no concept of our pain. We were given plaques with cute sayings—and took another huge step backwards from THE CHURCH, wondering about the reality of a God who could allow this cherished life to be taken, and the validity of our life-long belief system. Our religious armor suffered an even larger breach.

One moment stands out from the mind-numbing pain of the weeks following our son's death. On my way home in the car, I could not see the road. Tears streaming down my face completely obscured my vision. Pulling to the side of the road, I cut the engine. I don't remember what I said, whether I spoke aloud or silently, but I questioned my son's salvation and our eternal life.

The answer came immediately as an audible voice, resonating loud and clear through my anguished brain. "But that is why I died, my silly child."

It was at once comforting and bewildering but spoke against much of my previous belief. I had always known that if we died with unconfessed sins, we were lost forever. Rob had left the party in anger and couldn't have had an opportunity to ask forgiveness. This voice from God served to propel me another large step further away from our church of works, opening my mind to new ideas, and widening the gap in the religious armor.

 

A new message

We soon dropped our church affiliation and became "backsliders." We were members of no church, and yet we felt the tug of longing to belong. I refused to attend the Seventh-day Adventist church, and my husband refused to attend a church that did not meet on Saturday. That slowed the search considerably.

It wasn't until two years ago, as I was sitting in my son's living room avoiding the ball game on their huge television, that I picked up a book by someone named Dirk Anderson from a stack near the chair. The title White Out was intriguing. I began reading, amazed by the message, and felt my life changing as I read. I borrowed it, and as I left, my son quietly handed me two other books by the author Dale Ratzlaff, an old high school religion teacher of his. I could not put these down. The books were filled with amazing truths, and each claim was fully documented. I could not deny the power of these books.

White Out stayed on our coffee table, and ultimately my husband picked it up and began to read. He flew through it and subsequent books, checking Bible documentations. How was it that Bible passages we had read and even memorized previously now took on new and encouraging meanings? We ordered more books and began receiving Proclamation! magazine. It was clear God was speaking to us and inviting us into a new worship.

As we studied and read again and again through the New Testament, many old, familiar texts spoke out to us with an entirely new message. We began slowly finding our way out of the old familiar guilt, experiencing the sunshine of significance in Christ's sacrifice. God had forgotten that long ago pledge. It was we who kept remembering.

Our study proceeds slowly, and we still find it difficult to validate some long-held beliefs—is this idea from White or from the Bible? Understanding comes gradually. We find that God imparts knowledge only as we are ready to accept and understand it.

Our journey continues. We can but wonder what new insights and spiritual blessings await tomorrow. Our faith in God is stronger, as is our absolute trust that He remains in charge of our lives and our future. We are constantly amazed as each day brings new evidence of his love and caring. We find joy in our study of promises to be uncovered in the New Testament, and nourish a bright new image as new covenant Christians. The path still contains stumbling blocks, but now we have a changed vision of the path's end.

God guides our daily walk. The ultimate goal of a faith-based life seems more within our grasp. Back issues of Proclamation! magazine are stacked beneath the coffee table, and with each new reading, we find a new strength and faith.

Yes, God speaks —we have only to listen. † †

 

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Barbra Schaak married Hugh, the love of her life, after her first year at La Sierra College. After their four sons were born she earned her teaching credential at Cal Poly University and spent more than two decades teaching eighth grade English, journalism, and photography and working with writing curricula before spending five years teaching a GED class at a California State men's prison. Retired now, Barbra and her husband raise African Gray parrots and enjoy their eight grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.