Once upon a time ago, in the city of Chicago, there lived a Greek family. There was a mom, a dad, and five children. I was the oldest girl.

We grew up to be a religious family. Our parents didn’t go with us to church, but they required that we attend. We couldn’t understand the service since they spoke in Greek, but that seemed to matter little. 

My life was filled with rules. And if any were broken, well, we were scared to break them. 

Then one day God decided to shake things up. Bill, a boy that I knew, invited me to a home Bible study. Bill was not just any boy, but the one I had a crush on for a couple of years.

Walking into that basement, I had no idea how my life would change. But that’s what happens when you meet grace. 

A thirty-something woman named Lois, sat on a stool with her jeans and her dangling earrings. She talked about Jesus as if He was her best friend.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled that overcrowded room. There was chatter once the Bible study was over, but there was also undeniable warmth I had never experienced before. 

After some conversation, I was invited back the following day. I knew I’d go. 

And the following night, there was Lois again, perched on a stool. Telling us where to turn in our Bibles, taking sips of coffee in between. Sharing about her Jesus.

And I remember the ride home. Sitting in Bill’s white Volkswagen, raindrops slid down the window. And I clearly saw what Lois had been talking about. 

Lois had explained that all our righteousness was as filthy rags to God. She said that’s why God sent His Son into the world, to pay for the sins we had committed. The sins I had committed.

One verse kept going over and over in my mind. A verse from Hebrews. “Without shedding of blood is no remission (forgiveness of sins)” (author’s words in parentheses) 

And then I said aloud, “I see it.”

Jesus was more than just the person in the icon at my church. Sure, I had heard about Him in Sunday School class and in Awana clubs our parents let us attend. But I didn’t know Him personally. I heard He died on a cross, but I didn’t know He had done it for me.

If God sent Jesus to pay for our sins, that meant my sins too. All my church-going and rule-following did nothing to take care of my sins. It was false security.

Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins. None. 

The next day I quickly dialed Lois, “I’m saved. I know He died for me!”

But meeting Jesus wasn’t enough. I had to know everything I could about Him. So I went to one Bible study after another. I started attending a Bible church, I was engulfed in my Bible. And I fell in love with Jesus head over heels.

More and more people left. One brother to cancer, another brother to a massive heart attack. But God kept drawing me to himself. In fact, I learned that in pain I see Him the clearest. 

Some of my joys have been my grandchildren. One, two, three, and then Olivia, a baby who was truly a miracle. Olivia wasn’t even supposed to live to her birthday. But no one told her.

Month after month, we loved this little one with blue eyes that seemed to go on forever.  And then one day she too slipped into heaven.

Lois taught us the Christian life is not a bed of roses, there will be trials.

And Lois was right. God uses different tools to teach us about Himself. In my life, death would make repeat appearances.

As a brand new Christian, my father died. Then six years later my sister disappeared, and we’d learn she was killed by her husband. And then there was my baby nephew’s death. 

Year after year, the trials came. But God was by my side for each and every one.

God proved Himself faithful, showing me He was good no matter what happened in my life.

With each trial, I was tempted to forget all this Jesus stuff. He was really pushing it. But the more I learned about God, the more I was determined to trust Him.

There were joys in my life, but there were so many more losses. A couple of miscarriages, a couple of suicide attempts by loved ones. But still, I hung onto what I learned in that basement. That God loves me.

Once again I was faced with the question, would I trust Him? This one who let us have a sweet baby and then took her? I heard the enemy of my soul whisper, “And you trust this God?”

And so I kept putting one foot in front of the other. 

A few weeks ago my husband had a heart attack, one they call the “widow maker.” But God decided this wasn’t the time to take him. 

You see, not one thing touches us without God’s permission.

Day by day. I’ll get up and walk with the Lord. Because in all the years I’ve known Him, I know that He understands me like no one else ever could. 

He’s the lover of my soul, my Savior—the one I met in a basement.

Are you carrying a heavy burden or experiencing a painful loss? Will you choose to trust the God who created you? What step will you take today to trust Him?

Anne Peterson is a poet speaker, and published author. She has written poetry books, her memoir, Broken: A Story of Abuse and Survival, and several children’s books which are illustrated by her daughter. You can visit her author page here. Anne is a regular contributor with crosswalk.com

If Anne is not writing, she is probably spending time with four little ones who call her Grandma.

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