Writing about what many have taken to calling “the unpardonable sin” is a bit of an odd thing to do, and I acknowledge that. There are two kinds of readers for a book like this: the curious or the terrified. 

I’ve met believers who lose absolutely no sleep over this issue whatsoever - and that’s how we all should be! They know they belong to Jesus and the testimony of the Holy Spirit inside of them leaves no room for doubt or fear concerning security of salvation. That’s how God intends us to operate as His children. If that’s you, then I would imagine that you are reading this book out of some form of curiosity - and that’s awesome! My prayer for you is that in reading this book, you will develop strong arguments for what you already believe so that you can encourage believers who are afraid.

And then there are those tortured souls who genuinely fear that they may have blasphemed the Holy Spirit. That is a terrifying place to be - and I’ve been there a lot. If that’s you, then I pray that this book can be a step in God’s healing and redemptive journey for you.

So for both the curious and the terrified, I want to begin this book with a brief version of the story of why I’m writing this book. If you’re curious, it may help you step into the shoes of someone who’s wrestled with this concept. If you’re terrified, it may help you to understand that you are not alone. And sometimes, it’s easier to identify the flaws in one’s own thinking when you notice them in the thinking of someone else. So feel free to correct and critique. A lot of my early thought process holds no water whatsoever. But before we dive into the truth, it’s good to know what we’re combating.

Lightning and Elephants

I was ten years old when my family spent our first vacation at Takisie Lake. It was an obscure location, a ferry ride away from Burns Lake in the wilderness of northern BC. It was a fantastic place for a child, nested away in what people have taken to calling “the South Side”. That is Mennonite country, and at ten years old, my life goal was to marry some Mennonite farmer from the South Side, wear dresses every day, and have nine bare-foot children who would frolic through the fields with me. So I loved Takisie Lake. (Ironically, my husband did actually spend his teen years living on the South Side, but that’s another story.)

One day, my family was canoeing on the lake. Now that was no small feat! As it happened, my dad, mom, and sisters (collectively that’s four little girls ages ten, eight, five, and two) were all squeezed into a tiny aluminum canoe with our Saint Bernard puppy. It was tight and it’s a miracle we never tipped. On that particular night, a thunderstorm came upon us while we were still a ways from shore. There’s nothing so unsettling for a daddy and mama than being in a metal canoe with your four little daughters during a thunderstorm (and let’s also add a giant puppy into the mix!)

I remember thinking, “Wow, maybe we will die. What will it be like to die? It would be nice to die with all my family all at once. Am I ready to die?” I wasn’t afraid to die, so I found the whole scenario somewhat comedic and deliciously adventurous. But I never had a chance to find out about the whole dying thing because, by God’s grace, we made it to shore without the lake being struck by lightning.

Once we had made it to the screened-in porch of our cabin, it was a different story altogether. Rather than terror, the lightning struck awe in our hearts. My parents gathered up some crunchy snacks and rounded us girls into the screened-in porch of our cabin. There we sat and watched the fantastic display riddled across the troubled sky. No longer terrified, we were amazed at the incredible storm!

My two-year-old sister Madison wasn’t so sure as the thunder boomed, shaking the atmosphere. Alarm arose on her sweet little face. “Don’t worry Maddy,” my sister Kalia smiled warmly, her hazel eyes snapping. “It’s just God saying ‘I love you, Maddy’”

After that, my sisters and I thought of thunderstorms as God’s great and awesome voice shouting “I love you! I love you!” (We used to remind each other of that during eclectic storms and it was an awesome comfort indeed!) And never had that been so stark as when my two year old sister began to stare at the furious streaks of light and laugh, imitating God’s voice: “I love you, Maddy! I love you!”

When you begin to truly understand the gospel of grace by which you have been saved, passages that once threatened to kill you out in the metal canoe of rebellion become an awesome song of reassurance when you’re in the cabin of your heavenly Father’s love. 

As I watched that awesome thunderstorm, I had no idea of the storm that was brewing in my own heart, the spiritual battle that was about to break loose with the fury of hell against my little heart. For in just a few short days, a terror would grip me that would put the lightning to shame.

During our family vacation, I was reading through my Bible out on the grass outside the cabin down by the lake. That’s when I read about blasphemy against the Holy Spirit for the first time. My initial thought was, “Well, I better make sure to never do that if I want to be saved by God”. That seemed easy enough. Why would I ever even want to blaspheme God? He loved me so much and I love Him right back!

My parents took my sisters and I to the little Takisie shop to choose some candy before we left the campground. That’s when it happened. I was so innocent that I didn’t even know ugly words to spew even if I had wanted to do so. And yet, the ugliest words against God that I knew at that time came marching into my mind from a voice I had never heard before. I was horrified! Where was this even coming from? But that wasn’t the worst of it. I was so frozen with terror that I could scarcely focus on my surroundings. These thoughts were not only evil - they were directly blasphemous, specifically against the Holy Spirit! In my young mind, I figured I had done it - that one thing that would kick me out of Heaven forever. And now, it was too late.

I didn’t want candy. I didn’t want to be alive. All seemed totally lost. For the rest of the vacation, I was a different little girl. When we got to our next cabin, I spent the next few hours weeping in bed. When my parents tried to calm me, I didn’t even know how to explain what was going on. I was weary from sobbing and was totally heart-broken.

I remember sitting in the backseat of my family’s minivan watching rain drops trickle down the window. Some of the drops ran into one another, joining into a larger trickle. They reminded me of souls who were joined to Jesus. He found them and they’d run down the window of life together. But then, there were some drops that never got close enough to other drops to amalgamate with them. They trickled down alone. “Lost forever,” I thought miserably. Tears trickled down my own face, mirroring those lonely drops of rain. I felt like crying out to God, “Please save me anyway!” But I didn’t know if I was allowed to ask.

That depression and despair lasted for the next two years. I became a little theologian, but the more I learned, the more I longed, and the more depressed I grew. I was a troubled child. Not that I was disobedient and belligerent, but that I was sad, just so terribly sad.

I would read my Bible stubbornly, weeping over the passages. I had some peace when I read, so I read daily. I knew that by running from God, I would definitely not have a chance at being saved. Running to God was scary when I felt unpardonable, but something kept luring me - I just had to read - I just had to pray. And that something, was not simply a something at all - it was the Holy Spirit drawing me to Christ.

I recall asking my grandpa about my anxiety. I told him what had happened, wondering if there was any way he knew something that could free me. As we walked down the dirt road passing a pretty Summer field, he looked down at me and firmly spoke, “Makayla, don’t think about elephants.”

I tried, but all of the sudden, the avoidance of elephants was completely impossible! Here I was in northern BC, not an elephant in sight and no reason why I would ever ponder one. And yet, an overwhelming image of that elephant was unstoppable. And the more one tried to banish it, well, even that phrase “don’t think about elephants” caused one to indeed think about an elephant.

Grandpa went on to explain that this phenomenon could have been part of what had struck me at Takisie Lake. I was so focused on not blaspheming the Holy Spirit, that I had begun to think about what it might mean to do that, and as I was so terrified of doing it, those thoughts were right there.

I cried, sniffling as the possibility that I had not hated God and ruled myself out of salvation began to glimmer in my heart. I didn’t fully accept that I was savable, but even a flicker of hope was enough to put at least a crack in the bars that bound my little soul.

The lighting and thunder still sounded menacing, but at least the shore was in sight. There was hope. It wasn’t a solid hope like I have now, but it was still hope indeed. And someday, the thunder would become God’s cry: “I love you Makayla! I love you!”