My Testimony

I've been inspired.

I've so often, in my life, been crippled by the fear of sharing my testimony. I've been stricken and afraid that I don't even know what it is, that I don't know where to begin, what to say, and that all the things in it seem so trivial and not... revolutionary compared so many dramatic rescues and stories of God pursuing people.

But, since I read this, found many similarities between my testimony and that one, and prefer writing out the thoughts of my heart to speaking them -
I figured I'd share it. In my small corner of a blog that I feel safe in.
For a small start, a first step.

God knows I need to get my feet moving in the direction of speaking out.

So, here goes.

* * *

I remember, one dark night. I was little. Maybe four or five.
I was in my bed.
And I was afraid.

Of going to hell. 

Terrified and stricken to the core.

I just remember that fear, that gripping fear that I couldn't shake off. It was like the darkness around my room was inside me, too.

I know that fear pretty well. It's returned on many nights in my life. Where doubts plague my mind, and Satan is so near, holding me in his menacing grasp. And that feeling . . . that feeling. It's the scariest place I've ever been.

I can't remember if it was my mom or my dad, but I called out to the bedroom down the hall, and one of them came. I prayed that prayer, accepting Jesus so I wouldn't go to hell.

I have no idea if that was when I became a "Christian" - in fact, I doubt it. I don't think I'll ever know the moment. And that, honestly, has scared me, in the past, when I've heard of so many others who do.
That has caused me to wonder if my faith is real. There's that part, in Amazing Grace:

 How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

I used to sing that and be reminded that I didn't know that hour. And I thought maybe that meant I didn't believe at all.

So many memories and details are gone and jumbled up . . . but I grew. Over years, I realized all the teachings I'd heard all my life were for me, true for me, that salvation is for me and I can have my own faith. That I can reach out, and grasp it for myself. That all that blood was shed to set me free too, not just some people around me. That Christ can be my Savior, my King, that I am God's and he is mine.


I had one particular summer of doubt, a couple years ago. A night, where I felt so lost, so unsure, more than ever before. And afraid, again. That I wasn't God's. I prayed, I begged God that he would give me a sign the next day at church - a person to come up to me and talk to me. To help me.

I was shaking, on the inside at least, the next morning, sitting in the pew. I was half hoping, half doubting. I didn't know what to do or what to believe anymore.

No one came.
But I remember realizing that -
even if I didn't know if I was his,
I could trust.
Just have faith. Simply open my palms up and give my fear to him.
To say, "God. I don't know if I belong to you.
I don't.


...but I'm going to trust that I am."

Fear melted away. I don't know why. But it slowly did, like an ice cube.

Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in the same place, not changing at all. That I'm just as messed up as before, and I don't feel like I'm giving off any light.
Other times I glimpse how much I've changed. And yet, how very far I have to go.

But I'm running the race. Sometimes I trip, often I wander, but he's got a grip on me that nothing can shake. I've come to realize that no matter how much I feel like I mess up, he still has forgiveness. It's repenting and moving forward that counts. This past year I've been so focused on my messes that I haven't thought of rising up again. I kept on coming to the same point: miserable, saying, "God. I messed up. Again." Feeling discouraged, head down, hands muddy. But then just staying there, on the ground.

King David messed up a lot too. But he repented. He did, and then he kept going.
I need to learn from my mistakes, put my sins behind me, give them up to God,
then just strive.
Strive forward.
Keep on running, faults and all.

I'm sure I've left out huge chunks. Maybe I'll add to this later. But this is a small part of my story and how I've struggled, fallen, risen, awakened, worshiped.

He's got so much more in store for me (and you!) than we can imagine.
So God, have your way with us.
We ask that, with arms open.