Our Stories

Kelsea

The first time I met a Villager was the first day of my sophomore year of college when a group of young women moved into my dormitory at the University of Arizona.  They were fun, friendly, welcoming--and a little terrifying, because they were also Christian.  I didn't believe in God then.  I hadn't since I was 15, and five years' experience had taught me to be careful before I told anyone I was an atheist.

Eventually I got past my nervousness and became their friend.  At Thanksgiving I was welcomed to the house of some of the Village Elders, and I spent a good chunk of the time loudly arguing with one of my new friends that I could never believe in God, even though I was fully aware that we were sitting at her pastor's table.  But even though I was stubborn and angry, they never once threatened to kick me out.  Something in me began to trust that maybe I could be honest with these people without having to fear their reactions.  With my fears of Christians beginning to crumble, I was actually able to look at the Bible and find out what God was really about. 

Over Spring Break, I joined the young women of the Village on a Navigators' service trip to a church in Mexico.  On the first night as we settled in to sleep in a church near the border, I was feeling a little sick inside.  What was I doing on this trip?  How was I, an atheist, going to relate to all these Christians?  I decided to open up the Bible and read for awhile.  Cori, one of the Villagers on the trip, came and sat next to me and asked me what I was reading.  I showed her Psalm 32:9: Do not be like the horse or the mule which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.

Cori responded that one interesting thing about the Gospel is that Jesus so often compares us to sheep.  A cool thing about sheep is that they don't have to carry burdens--unlike horses and mules.  Before I fell asleep that night, I thought about what she said. Did I want to be a sheep or a mule?  Did I want to give over my burdens or continue carrying them as I had all my life?  I prayed to God that He would make me a sheep and take away my burden of fear of the people around me.  The next day I felt truly different: I was able to sing and dance and talk to people without any fear.  I told Cori at dinner that night what I had prayed, and how I had felt.  She immediately jumped out of her chair and shouted, "It's a miracle!"

Two months later I would be baptized by the Village, and I am still learning what exactly it means to choose to be a sheep.  Here, being a sheep means trusting in our Shepherd's protection against the powerful spiritual battle that rages around us.  As a former atheist, I sometimes wonder why God put me at a church in which the most challenging aspects of the unseen mystery would daily be right before my eyes.  The stories of many Villagers are beautiful and powerful, but they sometimes seem designed to press old buttons that trigger skepticism and cynicism.  Yet I know that if I couldn't see this battle in a way that is as tangible and real as it is at the Village, I would never have been able to believe in its existence. 

Being a sheep in the Village also means following Jesus wherever he leads, even when that means showing His face to the people in my life that have hurt me in ways that made it so hard for me to believe in the first place.  Here we are taught that it is not enough to merely resist doing evil.  We must also actively do good to see the Kingdom of God be manifest on earth. 

Lastly, at the Village being a sheep means looking to the herd for support and guidance in difficult times.  For the first time in my life I am seeing God's face of unconditional love.  I know that for myself and many others, without the Village there would be no safe haven, no one in our lives to lead us toward good things, no one to stand beside us whatever may come.  The work that is being done in our lives through this church is powerful, meaningful, and life-changing.