Author and Finisher

A Story of Faith Written by Shaunda Zilich

I am a terrible person. Keep reading and you will believe me. I have screwed up in some major ways. My story is really a lot about how I cannot keep it together. 

I grew up in a family that went to church every single day. My mom was the secretary of this huge church in Detroit, Michigan, and my dad was always chairman of the elder board, pulpit committee leader, or any other role you can have to lead a church. It was said that if the doors were open, my family was there. Unfortunately for me, this did not create the solid foundation you’d expect. I believed (or memorized what to believe), I just never really had to test that belief, or know the why behind what I believed. 

Fast forward a few years, and a bad thing happened. I found myself the victim of rape, and I had all the guilt and shame that comes with that. I felt guilt for going over to my boyfriend’s house when I knew his parents weren’t home. I felt shame, as if I’d broken that covenant with God to wait until marriage. And I felt that surely, God couldn’t love me anymore. 

It’s like when you memorize things in school, like the periodic table, but you don’t understand all of the elements. I knew the term God’s unconditional love, but I didn’t understand it. I felt like the dirt of the world, and that feeling started me down a deep, soul-searching path that left me “looking for love in all the wrong places.”

And down I went. Married and divorced…twice. I partied with the best of them, drank every day, didn’t care who I slept with. At one point I was addicted to meth, and later to any and all drugs I could find. On the outside I could make it seem like I had it all together, but then I would go on a four-day bender, hardly aware of how much time had passed.

Then there were times when I felt a tugging.

Looking back, I now see that it was the Holy Spirit inside me. I made my way back to church–I even went on a college mission trip (ironically to drive around drunk people during spring break)–but all the while I just felt like a hypocrite, not good enough for God’s purposes. 

So I would go back to making terrible decisions. I started riding motorcycles and even opened my own motorcycle shop (not a bad thing, but it didn’t help me make good decisions). 

And back and forth I went. I had learned that God was in control and that He would take care of His children, but I felt like if I did something wrong, I would lose that care and love. I couldn’t find any comfort or peace with Him. After all, I felt that even people who called themselves Christians were judging me at every turn. How could I be representing God to others? How could I call myself a Christian? All of those comments–all of those internalized, self-loathing thoughts–were continually heightened by my shame and guilt. I reached so many lows over and over, even questioning if God was real. Why would God create this earth and all of us on it, just to allow us to be terrible people to each other?

One day I found myself at the doctor’s office thinking I had mono or strep, or maybe both. I just felt so exhausted, and my throat hurt, so they ran a bunch of tests. The doctor came in and said, “Well you have strep, but we also think you are pregnant,” to which I replied, “Oh I’m incapable of getting pregnant. My past husband(s) and I tried to conceive using every method and medicine possible, but I just don’t ovulate. It actually was a big part of our divorce.” Which was true. I always thought my infertility was a punishment for what I had done. So the doctor took me back for an ultrasound, just to check, and sure enough, I was 10 weeks along. 

I went and told the man I thought to be father (I mean honestly it was a toss-up, as I wasn’t dating anyone), and he said to take care of it. So I signed up for an abortion. Thursday at 3 p.m.

But again, a tugging… something inside of me just would not let me go. Thirty weeks after that, Wesley Braden came into the world.

I would love to tell you at this point I became responsible and turned my life around, but honestly it was only a pivot. Sure, I realized I had this person I needed to keep alive, so I was trying, sometimes, to make better decisions, but was I realizing God’s love for me? Not just yet, and I’d continue to spiral downward with choices, self-loathing, and harsh judgment of myself because of that. I couldn’t forgive myself because I didn’t believe that He could forgive me. 

Then one day, I felt that tugging again. Wesley was still in his baby carrier and still at the age where he could make it through a church service and probably not get too loud, so I ended up at Northside Church in Southern Indiana. That same Sunday they were kicking off small groups (a time when a smaller group of people would meet in a home outside of the Sunday sermons to study scripture together). I honestly needed friends that would have a better influence on me, so I decided to go. 

I joined the group the first week and thought, “Well these people seem real, but I bet once they get to know what a terrible person I am, there will be all kinds of judging–just like in my past.” But Wesley and I went back, again and again, until finally, after about six weeks, something happened.

I was sitting in this overstuffed blue chair, and there was this moment when I found myself sharing my story. I had not planned on it, but it was all coming out. I remember thinking, “This is the moment… this is it… get ready for a quick exit!” I think I actually started putting on my shoes toward the end of my life story. But as I finished, I saw tears in Crystal’s eyes (she was the mom sitting next to me), and her husband looked straight at me and said, “Shaunda, who of us doesn’t have a story like that? We all do. Isn’t it amazing that we are not the authors? Isn’t it amazing to look at our kiddos and see all the good He can make from the bad decisions we make?” They all started talking about their life stories, about different mistakes they had made, and about how God had blessed them–blessed us–by making good from the bad. 

I had NEVER thought of it that way. Some of us are born into bad things. Bad things happen to us in this fallen world. Some of us choose to do bad things. But when we give it over to God, He can make good come from everything.

I went home that night and realized one more thing: these people still loved me. They wanted to see me again. We had made plans to meet at the splash park later that week. They wanted to be my friends. They wanted to love me. As humans we will always have imperfect love, but we can show others a glimpse of God’s unconditional love when we love like Him, like these friends loved me.

That was the point when I realized, through the love my small group had for me, that I’m not the author of my story. I was trying to be. Again, I was “looking for love in the wrong places.” I was making the decisions. I was carrying the guilt and shame and telling myself the narrative that I was never good enough, and it was impacting… everything. Turning a one-eighty and applying the lens of how God sees me, how He is actually the author, changed… EVERYTHING! It freed me. I started to let Him write my story. To believe in Him as the Author. 

I met and married my husband, who adopted my son. We plugged into a church where we eventually became our own small group leaders. We had a daughter Aralyn (yet another miracle) and have been on so many adventures for God since then–following His lead for us and asking Him how He would like to write the story.

Do I still make horrible decisions? All. The. Time. We are a fallen people. I try to not make mistakes, but it is inevitable as we are born into sin. But, through the lens of God’s unconditional love, with His grace covering me, with His death paying the penalty for my sin, I am able to acknowledge His help, forgive myself, and know that He can still use it for His good. And I can use it as an opportunity to learn and grow. 

God uses those that need an abundant amount of grace! Look at Saul-turned-Paul, Samson, or even King David, and if you really read about the disciples he CHOSE to be His disciples, they all have a story of experiencing His grace–His unconditional love. They spoke of Him and spread His gospel in the most passionate way due to the fact they had experienced it themselves, firsthand! 

He is writing our story. He is taking the ways we mess up and making good come from them. Only by His grace through me am I not a terrible person. There is no greater feeling than knowing that the Almighty God is the “Author and Finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2 KJV).

He wrote a far-greater story than I could ever write for myself, and the best part is… He isn’t finished yet.