My Personal Jericho

And the sisters in Christ who helped tear down the walls

My Personal Jericho

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When I consider my faith journey, I can’t help but think of those hapless Israelites who were stuck in the desert for forty years after being led out of Egypt. For me, too, it was about forty years before I took my first baby steps into the promised land of a living faith in God.

I grew up in a big, loving fam­ily, with parents who were excellent guides and examples of Christian faith. Still, God felt distant to me, and faith was mainly a matter of going through the motions and hop­ing it would eventually become real.

After I married and started hav­ing children, though, I realized that “fake it till you make it” wasn’t enough. This hit home as one of my babies was being baptized. When the priest said in his homily that children learn to get to heaven by following their parents, I burst into tears right there in church. “My poor kids,” I thought, “how can I lead them anywhere if I don’t have real faith?”

Our family grew, and I kept going through the motions, feeling like a hypocrite. Then, about six years ago, my husband and…

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