Testimony

I grew up in the kind of home that was enviable. My friends would say, "Your parents are so cool! My parents ___________." (Insert whatever level and type of kid commentary you can think of.) My parents were generous, laid back, and supportive. (For the record- they are still all those things!) My brother was pretty mellow and had straightforward passions and talents. He was musically driven and well-loved by everyone he encountered. I was (we'll say this nicely) the more dramatic child. My interests varied, and I was constantly challenging my parents to keep up. I was involved in: ballet, tap, modern dance, sewing, raising rabbits, piano, clarinet, vocal training, porcelain doll making, drawing, writing articles for the local paper, creative writing, soccer, and other things I have forgotten by now. Although my mom swears I was a sweet kid, I remember being high maintenance and desirous of attention. I continued to have dynamic ups and downs into young adulthood. I went through seasons of feeling confident and sensing a general hope for my future. I went through other seasons filled with young girl woes: friendship drama, not fitting in, and teen angst.

When I reached high school, I was still trying to figure myself out. I began developing real friendships and asking some bigger questions. At this point, I had already dabbled in most things that lead to trouble. I foolishly sought to fill the holes obtained by living in the world. It was probably my sophomore year in high school when I was invited to a Christian winter camp. I had friends who were going- and decided I wanted to go too. My parents were supportive, feeling that Christian values were generally good -- and that it would be a positive experience for me. Not knowing what to expect, I went into it with an open mind. I played in the snow. I stayed up late with my girl friends. I learned about Jesus. Christianity was compelling and... different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I couldn't ignore it either. One late night in our cabin, I asked my friend Katie to pray for me. I accepted Christ and asked Him to come into my life. I came back from camp and life returned to "normal". Without accountability or understanding of what it meant to be changed, I just went back to being "me". Years later, I loosely held onto the label of Christianity. However, my life did not resemble what I claimed. I partied with friends. I constantly had a guy I was into. I lost sight of my value. I began to function out of the desire to feel loved, accepted, and worthy. Nothing I pursued made me feel more valuable. If anything, the desire for these things left me feeling empty. It seemed that these things had a unique way of stripping anything good and pure away. I was left in shambles -- and it was my fault.

At the time, I was going through a lot of this with my best friend, Michelle. She had a similar experience with Christianity. Being "saved" and then falling away -- we sympathized with each other. Life was rough, and we seemed to be victims in all of it. I forget which one of us seemed to declare we had reached all-time low, but Michelle's immediate reaction was, "We need to go to church." Begrudgingly, I went to church with her. The first night she brought me to her church, I tried to pray during worship. I asked God if I was still "saved"... if I could ever be loved by Him after all I had done. Shortly after my prayer, I got the chills. It wasn't cold. And no one had brushed my arm or said a word to me. I felt pretty sure it was what people called "The Holy Spirit". I had no idea -- but I couldn't shake the feeling. I had grown up trying to disbelieve everything until it was logically proven to me. And now, a feeling was so strong -- it would convince me to believe? That was only the beginning for me. Michelle and I began attending church regularly. We started reading our Bibles. But I can't tell you that it was all sunshine and roses from that point on. Unfortunately, it was quite the contrary. After I began to seek Jesus, I continued entertaining my desires to feel loved. It didn't seem to be "enough" for me to be loved by God alone. He seemed to be a big, distant God up in the sky who had an old book written by dead people. Again, life went on. I pursued relationships. I entered and ended relationships without much thought. I swooned over guys, and I didn't care that my "romance" with them was destructive. In fact, I enjoyed the tumultuous and risky aspects of "love". I am talking about "love" a lot here, but let me tell you, saying it was a weak point of mine is a catastrophic understatement. My turbulent relationships spun my life in a majorly unhealthy direction. (I'm not a victim here; so don't think that.) I became a person who did not think through things. I was moved by emotions -- and I did not care who I affected and what consequences came from my actions.

I hit an all time low about three to four years ago. I hated myself. I hated what I had done. I hated that I had hurt many people... people who didn't deserve to be hurt. I hated that I felt unlovable, unworthy. I hated that I was deceptive. I felt like if everyone knew who I really was -- everyone would desert me. No one would want to know a person so awful, so careless. This was rock bottom. I began to reach out for help. I reached out to my mom. I broke down to Michelle. I needed help. I needed the pieces of my broken life and heart to be mended. I knew, in a burning and undeniable way, that I needed to lay everything out before God. If there was a way to be saved, I knew He was the only way. There wasn't a magical moment that I was healed. Instead, it was a slow and (at times) painful process. I owed several people apologies for what I had done to them out of my selfishness. I had to backtrack through painful experiences and look at my motives. I had to look at my life honestly. I had to spill the bad stuff to people I loved. I needed to let people in. That was the most painful part. I felt God nudging me to let people into the ugliness. I learned to cry again. I had gone for very long periods of time without shedding a single tear. And as soon as I began to let people into what had really gone on, the tears began to flow like Niagra Falls on steroids.

I remember waking up one morning after beginning this process and I thought, This is really happening. I have really hit rock bottom. And people really know who I am. It was terrifying. And then it was freeing. I needed to replace the garbage I had in my head and my heart with truth. I began reading the Bible. I began to replace the lies and the excuses I had stored in my head. My friendships became honest. The grasp of my past seemed to lessen. Who did I have to impress anyway? The reality is -- I am a nobody. I have not achieved anything great on my own accord. I have done a whole lot that I am not proud of. But God -- He alone knows me and sees through my heart. He somehow gave me this courage to move forward even though I felt petrified by my sin and foolishness. Repentance is hard. Saying that I have done awful things... feels awful. But the feeling of freedom from the bondage I have collected... feels incredible. There is nothing compared to the freedom that comes from knowing God, from encountering something real. He is real. He is real because there is hope. Because there are people like me, whose lives are so wrecked and disastrous until He comes in and rearranges the pieces. I am not sure I can even say I was a Christian until a few months before I was engaged. I was a flailing sinner maybe, a lost and silly little girl. After I hit rock bottom and decided to come up for air, that's when I really gave my life to God. I told Him that my failed attempts to control my life only left everything a wreck. He was the only answer for me. The fact that God redeems, that God loves us in our brokenness, speaks of His heart and power. If He can love me, and bless me generously despite my sinfulness, I have no doubt that He can save and restore anyone.

There is more to this story... how Luke and I got together (for the second time, mind you) and became engaged. Since that is somewhat the second and final completion to my testimony... that will be a sequel of sorts.