It could have been a shot

I burst into laughter. 

‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked, wide-eyed and bemused.

‘I don’t know’ I said shaking my head.  ‘It’s just…it’s kind of funny, isn’t it?’ I waved the now-empty, tiny plastic cup in front of her face. ‘It could have been a shot!’

I was tickled by it, the irony of it all. 

I looked around at the dark room, the colourful lights, the pumping music, the crowds. If I squinted my eyes just a little, I could easily have been in one of the many nightclubs I’d spent my younger years in. 

Except, I wasn’t in a club, I was at a Christian women’s conference and the shot I’d just necked wasn’t some fruity alcoholic concoction but the grape juice from the communion we’d just shared.

She paused for a few minutes, surveying me lovingly yet seriously before saying, ‘You’re right, it could have been a shot…He’s brought you a long way.’

I don’t know whether it was the unexpected gentleness in her voice or the startling truth contained in my own words spoken back to me, but I went from hysterically laughing to hysterically crying; deep, drawn-out sobs.

My goodness, He’d brought me a long way…

***

Every Christian has a story and so the other day, as I sat across the table from another young woman talking life and the Lord, I began recalling my 19-year-old self to the 19-year-old in front of me.                                              

Fresh-faced and straight out of school, I’d adjusted surprisingly easily to life away from home and revelled in my new-found independence. To me, starting university was my blank canvas, a new leaf, my clean slate to do things I’d never done before, to be whomever I wanted to be.

Labelled a shy child and serious by those who knew me less well, I rolled up to Nottingham on a one-woman mission to prove that I was anything but. I was ready to let my hair down, have fun and push myself out of my comfort zone and that’s precisely what I did.

That first term was a whirlwind of activity, getting to know new people, exploring a new city, testing boundaries and partying like there was no tomorrow. In those early days, I would be out in bars, clubs and house parties up to five times a week. I just loved going ‘out-out’.

The repeated ritual of getting dressed up, turning up the music and the rowdiness that ensued at pre-drinks was something I looked forward to. Regardless of how bad the day or week had been, everything else was forgotten in those moments and once I was in the club my inhibitions disappeared and I could lose myself dancing to the music.

Looking around at my drunk friends singing at the top of their lungs to anthemic tunes seemed like the sweetest moments life could offer and always a happy snapper, my camera helped me record (and sometimes recall) the people I bumped into. It’s funny how often I spoke to people I would rarely speak to normally, relative strangers greeted each other like old friends and in that environment, I felt like my best self.

Looking back now I see so clearly the way my make-up masked deep wells of insecurity (so much so that I couldn’t leave the house without it), alcohol was the magic formula that gave me the confidence I felt was lacking in my day-to-day life and if I’m being really honest, the attention I received from guys quickly became addictive.

Whilst I considered myself a Christian it was an intensely private part of my life and not wanting to be boxed, I never breathed a word of my faith (even to close friends), for over a year. What’s more, I increasingly believed that God and fun just didn’t go together.

A hangover of habit from my catholic childhood, the thought of going to church on Sunday reared its head like clockwork every Saturday evening, but more often than not, I was genuinely too hungover come Sunday to rear my own head before late afternoon.

Living it up worked well for me for a while, but a few months down the line life felt like it was crashing down around my ears. I became angry and bitter towards God; this was Him punishing me for my wild behaviour I was sure of it and I began to resent the heavy chains of religion that bound me to Him. He was somehow both demanding and apathetic and I wanted out.

The situation came to a head as I found myself in an unlikely situation, an event run by the University’s Christian Union of all places. Feeling anxious and sick to my stomach, I was only there because I’d promised my Christian flatmate Hannah that I would attend to support the work she’d done for it. I wanted to be very clear however, I didn’t need converting thank you very much!

My guard was up as I stepped into that University room, both to the people and to God but it began to slip as one of Hannah’s friends stood up to tell her ‘Testimony’.

Nice, kind and naturally beautiful, she was the stereotype of a Christian girl (at least, in my head), yet I could barely keep my mouth from falling open as she shared her story. It turned out this beautiful English rose had a history that I never could have guessed at, and I listened with rapt attention as she told of how Jesus had changed her life. 

Whilst hearing her speak had a profound impact on my spiritual journey and the way I perceived Christians, it was the story that followed which changed my life forever.