This is the introduction to a book I'm writing.  Whether I ever attempt to publish it or not, we'll see.

I chose the scarlet letter. As much as I wish I could say it wasn’t a choice, it was. At some point, in some moment, I made the decision to cross the line. To ignore the vows I made to my husband. To commit adultery. As bad as breaking my vows to my husband was, I also broke a vow to myself. I chose to ignore who God had created me to be. I chose to ignore His glory that dwelled inside me. I chose to forget that I was made in His image and was worth so much more than whatever momentary facade of pleasure I thought I’d gain.

I broke three hearts with that choice… probably more. Three were most important though. I broke my husband’s heart, my heart and the very heart of God.

In today’s world it would be easy, and to some acceptable, to say that I had good reasons for that choice. I don’t agree. When I accepted Christ, I accepted a higher road. Not a road of perfection, but one in which I acknowledged His supremacy in my life. And that one choice laughed in His face. It ignored his clearly outstretched arms of true love and healing for what I wanted love and healing to be.

There are things to know about everything leading up to that choice. They won’t excuse it. There is no excuse. I take responsibility in the choice I made. It was my choice. I made the wrong one. I’ve forgiven myself. I rest assured in the forgiveness of God the moment I asked for it. I hope in the forgiveness my husband tries to live out every day in his love for me.

I hope that their telling will bring understanding. There are things I understand now that I wish I had then. And there are things I hope to understand better through writing this. Perhaps people who know me will understand me better if they happen to read. These things would be great. What I hope for most though, and what my fervent prayer is, for people that have been touched by infidelity. Whether they made my choice. Are tempted to make that choice. Or are reeling from someone else’s decision. While there is no excuse, there can be understanding.

With understanding can come healing. For the person who chose wrong and for the person who was wronged. For the damaged souls that led up to the choice.

I once chose the scarlet letter. I feared it would brand me for life. Thankfully, with our God, there is a clean slate. There is healing and there is redemption.

I chose the scarlet letter but I wear it no more.

I have been accused recently of being a blind, uneducated, dumb follower of a religion without reason or logic.  This doesn't bother me because I know the person flinging the accusations is looking for a way to discredit something she can't understand.  And that's ok.  I know my own ability to see, learn, and reason. 

The discussion I had with this person though prompted many to ask how I came to believe.  It's a hard question to answer, not because I don't know, but because it is a long, complicated story. I fear telling it here will force me to minimize parts and in the end, I'd not fully portray the glory and power of my God.  I will try none the less, trusting that God can use my fault filled words to reach those that are seeking him.  I've seen it too many times not to believe it anymore.

I did not grow up in a home where God was welcome.  My father claims atheism, but I see him more hating God to the point of  not wanting to believe.  My mother is a 'ladder theologist' meaning she believes she's going to heaven because though she may not be Mother Theresa she isn't Ted Bundy.  At some point, she decided to take us to church because it was the thing to do.  All I remember about this church was liturgy that lacked connection to God or one another.  I could recite the church calendar but couldn't tell you a thing about Jesus.

If you read any of my other blog you know that I faced a lot of trauma in my childhood.  I was raped and molested.  Escaping that by moving across the country, I was left to deal with a life that was scary and made no sense.  I used many coping mechanisms to do so but years of therapy, trying and coping left me at the brink of suicide.  Again.  I was in college and had spent the last four years of high school studying all kinds of religions.  I don't mean a little book here or there and moving on. When I study something I go all in.  Books about the religion, the books the religions are based on, criticisms of the religion, and meeting and studying with people that follow that faith.  Among those I studied were Taoism, Buddhism, Judaism, Wiccan and finally Christianity.  It wasn't Christianity as anyone had ever explained it to me before.  It was based on the Bible but so much more profoundly based on it as God's inherent Word and map for everyday life.  I spent my freshman year grilling a girl about God, Christ and life.  I saw in her a peace I knew I needed but just couldn't accept it was as easy as she said.

Lay down your life for Christ and He will make you new.

Come again?  That's it?  It was so hard for me to accept.  I needed to understand and so we spent the year studying.  I'd find areas of the Bible that I thought were contradictory and she'd show me how they weren't.  That you can't take two small passages and compare them absent of the book as a whole.  I read it from cover to cover twice.  Read commentaries on the Bible, criticisms and outright bashings of the Bible. 

At the end of my freshman year, I saw the Bible as a book full of mystery, yes, but not one that can't be understood.  And yet I was scared of this God that created me and saw everything I'd done and said.  I wasn't so sure He'd really love me.  And if he loved me, why would he let me be raped?  As a child no less?  My first week of summer vacation involved a trip to the Natural Bridge.  I remember asking God to show Himself to me.  Honestly searching for Him and desiring to see Him.  My first glance at this work of 'nature' took my breath away.  First I thought "there must be a God" and then I thought "well, water does mighty things" and then I shook my head and said I guess I don't know.

Never let it be said that God doesn't have a sense of humor.  As I shook the thought of God from my mind, we rounded the corner and there was a large wooden cross.  I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or cry.  God was clearly saying to me that He was there and wouldn't be ignored without a lot of effort on my part.

I didn't accept God that night.  I still had questions and fears.  God was patient and sent people to help me.  Not lead me blindly, but to explain things to me.  To give me things to read and think about.  To use my mind and intellect to understand.  In the end, I had no logical arguments over God's existence.  No reason to say the Bible was 'just a book'.  I knew them to be true.  God didn't just want my mind to understand though, he needed my heart to consent to His will.  To accept his gift and I was still too scared.  Scared that I'd be rejected.  My mind knew otherwise, but my heart was to weak to hope.

One night in November, after trying to keep God out of my heart and only in my mind; I was at the end of my rope.  I planned a final day of life and then had my suicide planned as well.  The pills were laid out.  Counted and checked off.  My roommate's plans for three days away confirmed.  I would say goodbye to the few friends I had and then go to my room and swallow death.

That was my plan.  God had other plans.  Through a series of events that can only be described as divine intervention, I ended up that night at concert.  Here people sang and spoke of Christ's love and forgiveness.  I heard their stories of lives of crime forgiven and wiped free and I thought, maybe, just maybe He'd forgive me. As the leader invited us to ask Christ into our hearts, to ask forgiveness and cleansing and new life;  I took a leap.  I told God to prove He existed and I'd surrender.  If He didn't, I'd go through with my suicide.  I don't advocate giving God ultimatums.  I'm not sure exactly why mine worked.  I would guess it's because God saw the true sincerity in my heart.  I had no other motives.  I just needed to know.  He showed me by taking the voices in my head, the ones I'd heard most of life, and silenced them.  In my heart, I finally knew what had been in my head all along. God LOVED ME.  Messed up me. 

I asked Jesus into my heart, accepted his death as payment for my sin, asking for forgiveness for the sins I'd committed and promising my  life to serve him.

I've strayed since that night.  And I've always come back.  It is always my mind and intellect that lead me back to God.  Not some blind leap of faith.  But logic and reason.  Life as I see it doesn't make sense without God.