Testify

For the past couple of weeks, my pastor has challenged our church to write out our testimonies, to actually put pen to paper, in the hopes that if we get the opportunity to tell our story to an unbeliever that we’re prepared.

I always shy away from talking about my faith on this blog, not because I’m ashamed but because I’m just afraid my words won’t do Him justice.  I read some blogs written by amazing women who are much better writers than me, talking so eloquently about what God is teaching them, and I clam up because I fear that if I try and write about the same thing, it’s going to sound like a child in Sunday school explaining why people need Jesus.

But here goes…

I love Jesus.  I always have. I don’t have one of those fancy stories where I was in a rock and roll band, partying every night, and Jesus pulled me up from the gutter.  In fact, I’ve never hit rock bottom, and I know that’s because of Him.

You see, I’m pretty head-strong.   Once I believe something in my head, it’s hard to convince me otherwise.  I’m not always proud of this trait, and there have been many times that it has come back to bite me in the butt.  But God has also used it as a tool to hold me close.

I made up my mind about God when I was around nine.  My folks are Christians, both of them.  So for as long as I’ve lived, I’ve been going to church, hearing people talk about the Bible.  And one summer at church camp, I decided it was for me.

I know what you’re thinking, “How much can a nine year old really understand about salvation?” And I am right there with you.  I’m sure I didn’t understand much at that age, but I believed in Jesus.  And when I look back over my story, that’s where it begins.

I knew even at a young age that I wanted a relationship with God. This is where being head-strong paid off.  I knew that sin separated me from Him.  So when all my friends were partying and sewing their wild oats in high school and college, the Spirit gave me a conscience.  I remember thinking as a teenager, “It doesn’t matter if my folks catch me because God knows.” That fear of being separated from Him guided most of my decisions.

I shutter when I think about what my story would be without the Spirit pursuing me throughout my life.  Most mornings, my prayers begin with the question, “Why do I get to live this blessed life?  Aren’t there others more deserving?”  The answer is “Yes, there are.”  But for some reason, God saved me.

There are times when I pull away, not intentionally but because I get distracted.  In those times, I’m given a glimpse as to who I would be without God’s grace.  At my core, I am a hopeless, depressed person.  I’ve even had panic attacks when I let mind go down some of the dark roads it tends to wander towards.  I don’t care about others.  On my own, my life feels meaningless.  I hate who I am apart from God.

When I start to entertain those thoughts, I know my Heavenly Father is calling me back to Himself, to a life filled with hope and purpose.

I’ve often said that if you could take Heaven out of the equation, I would still pursue a relationship with God.  I can’t imagine living life thinking it’s all for nothing, knowing there’s no grander plan, and we’re just going through the motions to end up six feet under a pile of dirt.

I don’t have all the answers.  Like most believers, I’m still trying to figure out what happened on that cross and why it had to be so, but I know my life would look very different without it.  I still mess up, pretty much daily, and question God’s wisdom in loving me, and yet, He loves me anyway.  He has saved me from a life of despair.