This past weekend on a retreat with my church, I met a guy named Tobias. The first night, we were all sitting around talking and Tobias started asking all kinds of questions about how we communicate with God, why Jesus is so important, why it isn’t good enough to just live a good, moral life. He definitely believed in God, but had no idea what to do with the Bible, and certainly didn’t know what to do with Jesus. He grew up going to church off and on with his family, but wasn’t sure if he had ever actually believed any of it.
Saturday went on with sessions about the reliability of the Bible and how to read it. Then, on Sunday, we had a little church service in the morning before heading back to Berlin. They serve communion every week at my church, and this week was no exception. Previously, Tobias had told us that he didn’t take communion, because he couldn’t honestly say that it stood for Jesus’ death on the cross for him. He wasn’t even sure if Jesus actually had died on the cross, let alone for his sins. But this time, Tobias stood up and took the bread and wine.
Afterwards, I asked him if something had changed. His eyes started to fill up with tears, and he told me that all of his questions were answered and gone. He understood. He was at peace and happy. For the first time, Jesus was real to him.