For a long time I believed that my personal testimony was not worth sharing. My story was not an exciting rescue by Christ in my darkest hour of need, in fact I can hardly remember what life was even like when I accepted Christ. I longed for a testimony that captivated people, that moved people, that stirred people in new ways, but that's just not how it happened. Yet, I am learning that even though my story may not be the most interesting it is still a story worth telling.
I had what you would call a typical Christian childhood. I was raised by Christian parents and was surrounded by godly people. In this way I count myself extremely blessed. At the age of seven in the back seat of a friend's car on the way home from Awana's one Wednesday night is where Christ became my personal Savior. At the age of eight I felt the intense call to be baptized. I know that is young, but I felt called so I obeyed. For the next nine years my faith did not waiver. I did not doubt my beliefs or question the lessons I had been taught growing up. I was blissfully ignorant of life outside of my bubble.
It changed though. In my tenth year as a Christian I began to pull away from the safety I had always known. I began to look at my life through different eyes. I was tired of being the good kid that everyone relied on. I was tired of taking everything that my parents taught as the ultimate guide for my life. So I rebelled. Call it being a teenager if you want, whatever, I wanted to test the waters. To discover something for myself. Let me make one thing clear, my rebellion was not what many would expect. I was not doing drugs, getting drunk, partying, sneaking out or anything like what someone would classify as "typical" teenage rebellion. My rebellion was spiritual. I simply walked away. I did want to be confined by the rules any longer so I began to look for answers outside my faith.
For a year I looked for answers in the world, in other religions and in the faith of my ex- boyfriend. I went as far as even being confirmed in his church. But the hole was still there, I still had not found what I was so desperately searching for. Then it happened. In the midst of a year of warring in spiritual agony I got sick. My world came crashing down in an instant. At age 19 you're not suppose to be weak and withered, you're suppose to be at the prime of your life, but day by day my body was failing. I went from specialist to specialist seeking answers. Test after test revealed no clue as to why I was so ill. When a neurologist finally gave me a label it came with very little hope attached. His words to me were there is nothing medically we can do for you, but with time you will learn to live with your disorder. Learn to live, I didn't want to learn to live, I should be living all already. I was broken.
It was in that moment that God began to minister to my heart. He began to call me back to Him. Actually, He had been there the whole time, watching me fall, wanting to hold me if I would allow Him to, but in my stubbornness I had refused Him time and time again. Yet, here I was broken, beaten and completely humbled. This was a battle I could not win on my own. I did not have the strength to face the road ahead by myself. So into His arms I ran, with tears streaming down my face, I began my life renewed in Him. It was not an easy road the next four years, I searched for cures and relied on God when no relief came. In the Summer of 2008 though God lead me to new doctors, one's who were not willing to rest or take another doctor's findings simply at face value. I got a new diagnosis, a treatment plan and a renewed sense of hope. God is good.
So it may not be the most valiant tale of rescue, but it is my own. I do not believe because my parents are believers or because I grew up going to church. I believe because God spoke to me and found me in the presence of personal darkness. I was refined by His fire, continue to be refined by His fire and my love and faith become stronger each time.
I had what you would call a typical Christian childhood. I was raised by Christian parents and was surrounded by godly people. In this way I count myself extremely blessed. At the age of seven in the back seat of a friend's car on the way home from Awana's one Wednesday night is where Christ became my personal Savior. At the age of eight I felt the intense call to be baptized. I know that is young, but I felt called so I obeyed. For the next nine years my faith did not waiver. I did not doubt my beliefs or question the lessons I had been taught growing up. I was blissfully ignorant of life outside of my bubble.
It changed though. In my tenth year as a Christian I began to pull away from the safety I had always known. I began to look at my life through different eyes. I was tired of being the good kid that everyone relied on. I was tired of taking everything that my parents taught as the ultimate guide for my life. So I rebelled. Call it being a teenager if you want, whatever, I wanted to test the waters. To discover something for myself. Let me make one thing clear, my rebellion was not what many would expect. I was not doing drugs, getting drunk, partying, sneaking out or anything like what someone would classify as "typical" teenage rebellion. My rebellion was spiritual. I simply walked away. I did want to be confined by the rules any longer so I began to look for answers outside my faith.
For a year I looked for answers in the world, in other religions and in the faith of my ex- boyfriend. I went as far as even being confirmed in his church. But the hole was still there, I still had not found what I was so desperately searching for. Then it happened. In the midst of a year of warring in spiritual agony I got sick. My world came crashing down in an instant. At age 19 you're not suppose to be weak and withered, you're suppose to be at the prime of your life, but day by day my body was failing. I went from specialist to specialist seeking answers. Test after test revealed no clue as to why I was so ill. When a neurologist finally gave me a label it came with very little hope attached. His words to me were there is nothing medically we can do for you, but with time you will learn to live with your disorder. Learn to live, I didn't want to learn to live, I should be living all already. I was broken.
It was in that moment that God began to minister to my heart. He began to call me back to Him. Actually, He had been there the whole time, watching me fall, wanting to hold me if I would allow Him to, but in my stubbornness I had refused Him time and time again. Yet, here I was broken, beaten and completely humbled. This was a battle I could not win on my own. I did not have the strength to face the road ahead by myself. So into His arms I ran, with tears streaming down my face, I began my life renewed in Him. It was not an easy road the next four years, I searched for cures and relied on God when no relief came. In the Summer of 2008 though God lead me to new doctors, one's who were not willing to rest or take another doctor's findings simply at face value. I got a new diagnosis, a treatment plan and a renewed sense of hope. God is good.
So it may not be the most valiant tale of rescue, but it is my own. I do not believe because my parents are believers or because I grew up going to church. I believe because God spoke to me and found me in the presence of personal darkness. I was refined by His fire, continue to be refined by His fire and my love and faith become stronger each time.
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