The First Contact

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I was a dreamy and imaginative child. The highlight of my week was the Saturday visit to the library. Mom and I would stay for hours and finish by wheeling home a stroller filled with books. Besides I was bullied and needed an escape. That is why there was nothing particularly strange about the event I later came to see as my first God-experience. 

I was three years old, sitting on the toilet. I had just had a fight with my mom and lost. I was trying to imagine how I had carried myself during the battle when suddenly it hit me that I didn’t look the way I thought. In my mind, I had seen something beautiful and graceful—a noble heroine forced into surrender by a dim-witted superior power. Now I realized that not only mom, but everyone except me, saw something else. And what was worse: they were right and I was wrong.

In my head, I was quite tall and thin with hair reaching all the way down my back. In reality, I was squat with almost no hair, and that was why my mom treated me the way she did. My first feeling was shame. Then I decided it didn't matter that I had been so wrong about myself, because no one but me knew about it.

The next moment I was struck by wonder that I was even thinking about myself that way. I thought it wasn’t strange that I felt so different from the toddler my mom and everyone else saw. Children—and maybe especially I—were much bigger than they looked. And I knew I would never forget this moment—the moment I realized I was me.

At that very moment, I had what felt like a premonition. Suddenly I knew there was a reason I would never forget this moment, a reason that was waiting for me somewhere in the future. I also knew that one day, in the future, I would be so important that the world would care about what I had been thinking on the toilet when I was three. Yes, anything happening in my life now, when no one suspected I was special, could turn out to matter in the future when I had become what I was meant to be. 

I didn’t feel like I knew this because God had told me; I barely knew what God was. I felt I knew it simply because it was true. It felt as if there existed an ultimate truth, where everything that would one day happen was just as real as everything that had already been. This truth covered everything, including the difference between right and wrong. You could brush it aside and choose to do wrong instead of right—like my bullies had—but you couldn’t change the truth so that wrong suddenly became right.

This ultimate truth wasn't new to me. It had always been there, like a kind of keynote. Nor did I believe I was the only one who could hear it; most people just didn't seem to care much for it. Now that I knew about my mission, it was especially important for me to stay true to it. Even though I didn’t think of this truth as God, that is exactly what God was—and remained—to me: an inner truth to find comfort in and stay true to. 

Only recently did I realize that it might actually have been God who contacted me that day—a completely different and much more personal God than I could ever have imagined.

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