Hello, and welcome to Jen’s Spiritual Cafe! My name is Jen and I’ll be your host! Pull up a chair, order that special cup of coffee, maybe even a croissant. And let’s discuss what really matters. This is a spiritual blog where we explore topics of all sorts. Nothing is off limits. If you’re accustomed to being in an environment that discourages questions, this is not one of them. Life is too short to put these questions off. And I believe that God is big enough to handle them. As it was once said, to defend a lion, well you don’t need to. It can defend itself. And so can the truth. So then, let’s begin our conversation! I’ll go first.
My name is Jennifer Carrico. I’m 35 years old and I live in Florida. I didn’t always live here, however. Although I live in the sunshine state, I was born in a sunnier and more beautiful place; Rota, Spain. My dad was in the Navy and he was stationed there, where he met my Spanish mother. They conceived me, got married and the rest was history. My younger brother was born only a couple of years later, and thus, a beautiful and happy family was born! We eventually moved to the States; at Virginia Beach, Virginia. That is where I would meet two of my closest friends and where my dad would retire from the Navy. We decided to settle here in Florida in order to be closer to family.
I wasn’t all too thrilled with the idea of moving yet another time. I was about 15 and making friends in High School was getting to be difficult. However, I still kept in touch with my friends through AOL (this was before iPhones was a thing). We got on the computer daily to discuss how things were going. One day, I asked my best friend a question that was out of character for me. You see, I grew up quite secular. I was baptized Roman Catholic as an infant; but we never practiced what we preached. In fact, we never went to Mass; I only ever remember ever going through the motions to accomplish my First Communion. But that was about it. But I asked her, “Do you believe in God?” She told me no. Now, this was probably the most shocking and existential thing that I have ever heard. For, up until now, everyone I knew believed in God. And it had just dawned on me that He might actually not exist. That therefore, we might not actually exist after we die. So then, I had to find out for myself.
I started my search for truth in the most noble of ways: YouTube. Well, in my defense, I reasoned that if I could just see a ghost with my own two eyes that that would settle the question for me. It took about 20 ghost videos or so for me to realize that the footages I was seeing in graveyards just might have actually been fake. I didn’t give up though. I ended up discovering Near Death Experiences; amazing stories of people who have died and come back to life. These stories gave me so much hope! I discovered that some people believed that they were just elaborate hallucinations produced by a dying brain. However, that wouldn’t be a possible explanation for many stories; like how people who were born blind were able to see for the very first time during an NDE.
Discovering the reality of NDEs only deepened my curiosity for more evidence that may have been out there. One day, on the search engine, I typed the word “Shocking.” And because of the suggested videos, up came, “The Shocking Youth Message,” by Paul Washer. This was an intense video and the very first Christian message that I have ever been presented with. The reality of my sin before a holy God has been made known to me and the solution of that dilemma being the cross of Christ gave me such a relief that God loved me enough to pardon me. So, I gave my life to Christ that night and had become a Christian.
The next day I had let my family know what had happened. They assured me that it was just another phase of mine that I would get over. They didn’t take me seriously but they told me to keep it to myself. So I did (well, a little). I bought my very first Bible and took this sacred text everywhere that I went. I spent a lot of my free time reading the Bible, listening to sermons on Sermon Audio, watching apologetics like, “I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be An Atheist” on DirecTv, etc. But eventually the time came where I felt the need to join a Church. So I joined the only Church that I ever knew of, a Roman Catholic Sanctuary that was actually near my house. I was pretty excited about going! I attended for about a year; I even joined the youth choir. I finally felt like I found a place where I could worship God.
However, after a while (and it took a long while), I noticed something strange about the services. You see, what they were teaching seemed to contradict the sermons that I was listening to online; even the Bible itself. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I couldn’t ask the Priest anything freely since they always seemed so busy, so I did the next best thing. I went to Confession. During Confession, after I had confessed my sins before the Priest, I paused and then asked him if I could ask him a question. He told me to go ahead. I took a deep breath and then asked something rhetorical. I asked, “How can I know that I’m saved?” He paused and then proceeded to say, “Oh, you’re saved. You’re here, aren’t you?” This answer blew my mind. It went against everything that I learned about Christianity; as if being in a church building made me any more saved than being in a garage would make me a car. I suddenly felt like I was being misled about a whole bunch of other things, so I made the painful decision to leave the church.
“If I’m not Catholic, then what am I?” I asked myself. After doing a little digging I found that Paul Washer wasn’t a Catholic either, but a Protestant. And when I realized that my beliefs were more in line with his than with Catholicism, I decided that I was Protestant too. Now, my family never practiced Roman Catholicism, but when I told them that I was no longer a Catholic but a Protestant, they were all taken a back. My mother told me that I was baptized Catholic and that I would always be Catholic. But I paid her no mind.
I ended up going to my very first Protestant church: a nice Baptist church that was also near my home. I experienced a very dizzying case of culture shock as I sat in the pew. I was used to the extravagance of statues, stained glass windows, incense and flowing robes. The simplicity of this church made me feel like I was in a movie. The atmosphere was completely foreign to me. But I took it in stride and sat through the sermon. I was expecting to hear a biblical sermon but what I got was more like a health, wealth and prosperity gospel. Like something Joel Osteen would preach. After attending a few times I realized that this church would get me about as far as the Roman Catholic Church would. So I left.
This time I did a little more research before waltzing into some random church, like the Mormon church I accidentally stumbled into (don’t ask). And I found that there was a Conservative Baptist Church whose teachings aligned just nicely with my beliefs. Their sermons were solid, so I stayed for a while. I even attended their University instead of going to college after I graduated High School, because I really wanted to be a Missionary.
Yes, my life was going wonderfully and the stars were aligning. But, my life would end up taking an incredibly dark turn. As what happened to Job more or less happened to me. First, I lost my grandfather from my mother’s side (the first real death in the family). This shook me to my core. Two years later, I would then lose my grandmother from my mother’s side. Then, my grandfather from my father’s side (which began my dad’s depression). Then both of my dogs. And then, just for good measure I was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia where I would have to spend a month in the hospital and go through many treatments; which included shock treatments, TMS, and many different medications. Then my parents divorced. Then I lost my grandmother from my father’s side and only ten days after that I lost my father.
In my mind, I felt like I was experiencing the crushing blow of God’s wrath. And for what, being obedient and following Him? And repenting of my sins? And seeking Him with all of my heart? I could have stayed bitter, but then I remembered something. I had earnestly prayed that infamous, dangerous prayer: “Lord, make me more like Jesus.” And God seemed to take it to heart and answered that prayer. Throughout all of these years of unimaginable grief, God has slowly shaped me into the person that I am today. And all of my anguish was like the pain of being in a refiner’s fire. One that I am continuing to go through to this very day. Remember, it’s not just the sadness of missing my family but it’s also my illness. I still hear voices, even now, which only makes prayer all the more difficult for me.
But you know what? Happiness is a choice. And I choose to push myself to see the bright side and to keep loving God. Because I also know that this isn’t the end of my story. In fact, I have strong reasons to believe that it is only just the beginning. This life is not all that there is; but it is also not our home. It’s short for all of us compared to the vast infinitude that is eternity. So, as long as God has promised heaven to those who would believe, why not trust that somehow God meant all of this heartache for good? It is meant for good because God is good. And that is something that will never change.