Jennifer Fulwiler - Something Other Than God

Something Other Than God

JENNIFER FULWILER

How I Passionately Sought Happiness
and Accidentally Found It

IGNATIUS PRESS SAN FRANCISCO

Cover detail from The Holy Spirit alabaster window
Gian Lorenzo Bernini, St. Peters Basilica, Rome
Photograph by Agnus Images

Cover design by John Herreid

2014 by Jennifer Fulwiler
Published by Ignatius Press, San Francisco, 2014
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-1-58617-882-6
Library of Congress Control Number 2013917065
Printed in the United States of America

To Papaw, who always believed .

All that we call human history... [is] the long, terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy .

C. S. Lewis

In the six years that I have been working on this book, God has put some amazing people in my path.

First, of course, is my husband, Joe. He helped shape each draft, watched the kids while I worked, and wasnt afraid to write edits like, This paragraph makes you seem insane. Everything in life is more fun with him at my side.

Joes mom, Lou Fulwiler, and my parents, Pam and Don Bishop, bent over backward to help me hit writing deadlinesnot to mention the fact that their examples of selfless love lit the path for me to find my way to God in the first place.

My wonderful literary agent, Ted Weinstein, is like the personal trainer who pushes you until youre collapsed and twitching on the gym floor. Its never been so fun to have someone ruin my life. The team at Ignatius Press continually amazes me with their hard work and dedication, and I am profoundly grateful to them for believing in this project. It was also an honor and a pleasure to work with developmental editor Jane Rosenman.

Hallie Lord deserves to have her name somewhere on the cover in recognition of all the hours she put into helping me with this book (many of them in the form of listening to my writer drama). Im also blessed to have good friends like Nancy Mohn Barnard, Abigail Benjamin, Melanie Casal, Brendan and Cat Hodge, Lori Keckler, Grace Patton, Frank and Patti Scofield, Dorian Speed, Fr. Michael Sullivan, and my cousin, Br. Claude Lane, providing me with prayers, support, and words of wisdom.

Id still be sketching out Chapter 1 if it werent for the loving assistance of Rachel Hebert, Irma Campos, Delia Stinson, Ellen and Victoria Hebert, Gabi and Marlena Borrero, Hannah and Katie Villarreal, Annie Scofield, and Abby Brooks.

I think of Nona Aguilar, Cindy Cavnar, Bert Ghezzi, and Patrick Madrid as my writing fairy godparents for all the encouragement and opportunities they sent my way. A special thanks also goes out to Kevin Knight, who helped me find an audience for my writing.

I am deeply grateful to Raymond Arroyo, Fr. James Martin, Tucker Max, and Gretchen Rubin, who were kind enough to offer endorsements of this project early on in the process, as well as to Amy Welborn, Brandon Vogt, Dorian Speed, Arthur Nielsen, Leila Miller, and Nona Aguilar, who took the time to read the manuscript and offer invaluable constructive criticism.

Tom Wehner, Dan Burke, Jeanette DeMelo, and the rest of the team at the National Catholic Register have been endlessly supportive as Ive needed to take time off to work on the book or have babies (or, sometimes, both).

I love my blog readers, and am humbled and touched by the support theyve given me over the years. I wish I could thank each of them by name.

It is one of our familys greatest blessings to be surrounded by the vibrant, faith-filled community of St. William parish, especially Noe Rocha, Fr. Dean Wilhelm, Fr. Uche Andeh, as well as Fr. Alberto Borruel, Fr. Joel McNeil, and Fr. Jonathan Raia.

I thank my children for understanding when mommy spent all that time staring at her computer screen, and for generally being awesome. Being their mother is my lifes greatest honor.

And, of course, I thank God, the source of all that is good. He truly never forgets any of his sheep, even the ones who are most lost.

My counselor at an East Texas summer camp stepped along the gravel ground, asking us if we wanted to accept the Lord Jesus into our hearts. As she worked her way down the line of girls next to me, I used the time to try to think of a better answer than no. Luckily, I was at the end of the group, seated on the edge of the picnic table where wed been lined up like bottles in a carnival game. But our counselor was moving quickly.

She planted herself in front of my friend Jessica, whod also come to camp with me and a big group of fifth graders from our neighborhood. Jessica was from one of the rare families that didnt go to church every Sunday, so I watched the exchange intently. Surely, she would take one for the team and tell this religious nut to back off.

The counselor, whom we knew only by her nickname, Tippy, took a deep breath before speaking. She placed her hands on Jessicas bare knees, just below her flowered Jammer shorts. Jessica, she said. Jessica, do you want to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?

All the other girls leaned in, their heads cocked. Jessica looked at us, then at Tippy.

She started to say something, but faltered. I nodded in sympathy. This wouldnt be easy. I... yes! Im ready! I want to make Jesus the Lord of my life! she cried. The other girls erupted into squeals and applause, everyone clobbering Jessica with hugs and pats on the back.

Then they looked at me.

Jenny, Tippy said. The other girls celebration died down to wait for their next victory. Look me in the eyes, Jenny.

I looked up. Her eyeballs glistened with emotion; her chin quivered.

Jenny, are you 100 percent certain youre going to heaven when you die?

Thats a big question... I tried to buy time. I squirmed and shifted under the pressure of the other girls gazes.

Though it was of no use to me at that moment, I couldnt help but fixate on the fact that advertisements for Pine Grove summer camp specifically said that you didnt have to be a Christian to attendwhich is the only reason my parents let me go in the first place. The slick pamphlets my friends handed me at school boasted color pictures of smiling children water skiing and horseback riding. There were no photos of religious interrogation in the brochure.

Has the Lord been speaking to your heart? Tippy wanted to know.

There were so many confusing things about that question that I didnt even know how to begin to answer. I was pretty sure that the Lord referred to Jesus, who was a guy who used to live in the Middle East, but then it was also sometimes used to refer to God, who was the invisible ghost who lived in the sky. It was impossible to keep the details of their mythology straight. On top of that, I had no idea how one would go about speaking to a persons heart. I considered suggesting that the Lord speak to my ear in the future, but this was no time for jokes.

He, umm, Im not really sure... I said. I averted my eyes, looking off toward the towering pecan tree over her shoulder.

Do you want to get saved?

See, I, uhh...

She stepped into the path of my gaze. If you do not get saved, you will not go to heaven. You will end up in hell. Forever. You dont want to go to hell, do you, Jenny?

Another tough question. I needed more information about this place before I could make an informed decision. I didnt believe in heaven or hell, but even if I were to pretend that I did, I wasnt sure that hell sounded all that bad. Several religious people had assured me that my family and I were going there, and they said it was a terrible place. But so far the only thing I knew about it was that people like them werent there. For all I knew, I might like it.

I glanced at Jessica, who was leaning against the girl next to her, overcome with the emotion of her big moment. Traitor.