Growing up "Unchurched":
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You read a bit on the "Read Poems Relating To" page about what my family life was like growing up. As I have time, I will add a bit more about what my life was like before & after coming to know Christ as my personal Savior. After all, if things didn't get better, then that's not much of a testimony, is it?
My parents' marriage was much like a yo-yo from the time I was 5 until I turned about 15. (After I was about 15, they seemed to more "permanently separate" which actually brought stability.) Together they were happy briefly; then they struggled to maintain a perception of harmony; things went downhill from there and tense discussions held late at night accumulated into arguing that appeared to be open hostility in the eyes of a child; finally, they would separate to different places of living and things would simmer down before repeating the cycle.
My parents' marriage was much like a yo-yo from the time I was 5 until I turned about 15. (After I was about 15, they seemed to more "permanently separate" which actually brought stability.) Together they were happy briefly; then they struggled to maintain a perception of harmony; things went downhill from there and tense discussions held late at night accumulated into arguing that appeared to be open hostility in the eyes of a child; finally, they would separate to different places of living and things would simmer down before repeating the cycle.
Don't get me wrong, my parents loved each other and they loved us kids. They felt it was best for kids to grow up with their parents' marriage intact, so they fought toward that goal for many years with our best interests in mind. Aside from their marital dynamics, my parents were pretty "typical." We had bedtimes, helped with chores, were expected to mind our manners & not be wasteful. We weren't allowed to watch certain shows that were deemed inappropriate for our age and I remember making crafts, playing board games & baking cakes for special occasions. We went fishing as a family, spent time at my grandparents' farm and had our share of family pets over the years.
We had moved a few times over the years, causing me to change schools a few times before entering 3rd grade in a town where we eventually "settled down." I do remember one thing that seemed strange to me when I was trying to make friends: several of the kids asked me what church I went to. This question seemed really odd & made me feel awkward. I felt "put on the spot" and almost offended because I got the feeling most kids would have a different answer. Anyhow, I informed the kids, "I don't go to church." Some asked a couple more questions, some looked more surprised than others, but mostly the topic was dropped after that. It seemed like a silly thing for kids to talk about anyway. The only person I knew who went to church was my grandma who lived out of state. She was nice & we had to sit quietly while she said "grace" before we could eat when she was around.
What's the point of sharing this information? So that you understand that I can relate to living life without ever giving God, much less Jesus or the Bible a single thought. I thought Christmas was about getting & receiving gifts and figured Easter was just having fun coloring eggs. I firmly believed in Santa & his reindeer as well as the somewhat magical Easter Bunny when I was younger, but wasn't at all devastated when I figured out they were just an act for kids to have a "little extra fun" around the holidays. I never remember hearing the words "Scripture", "Holy Spirit", "crucifixion", "resurrection", "Trinity" or anything similar as a child. The only time I remember prayer or God being mentioned at all (perhaps once every couple years) was in casual mention to when things were really going badly & we didn't know what to do. Then, I figured, was when we'd pray to God, basically just asking if there's anyway for things to get better that they would. It seemed kind of like crossing your fingers if you were hoping to win a bet or bringing a good luck charm with you to a competition or something.
We had moved a few times over the years, causing me to change schools a few times before entering 3rd grade in a town where we eventually "settled down." I do remember one thing that seemed strange to me when I was trying to make friends: several of the kids asked me what church I went to. This question seemed really odd & made me feel awkward. I felt "put on the spot" and almost offended because I got the feeling most kids would have a different answer. Anyhow, I informed the kids, "I don't go to church." Some asked a couple more questions, some looked more surprised than others, but mostly the topic was dropped after that. It seemed like a silly thing for kids to talk about anyway. The only person I knew who went to church was my grandma who lived out of state. She was nice & we had to sit quietly while she said "grace" before we could eat when she was around.
What's the point of sharing this information? So that you understand that I can relate to living life without ever giving God, much less Jesus or the Bible a single thought. I thought Christmas was about getting & receiving gifts and figured Easter was just having fun coloring eggs. I firmly believed in Santa & his reindeer as well as the somewhat magical Easter Bunny when I was younger, but wasn't at all devastated when I figured out they were just an act for kids to have a "little extra fun" around the holidays. I never remember hearing the words "Scripture", "Holy Spirit", "crucifixion", "resurrection", "Trinity" or anything similar as a child. The only time I remember prayer or God being mentioned at all (perhaps once every couple years) was in casual mention to when things were really going badly & we didn't know what to do. Then, I figured, was when we'd pray to God, basically just asking if there's anyway for things to get better that they would. It seemed kind of like crossing your fingers if you were hoping to win a bet or bringing a good luck charm with you to a competition or something.
Events Leading up to my Salvation:
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At the beginning of my seventh grade year, a classmate I had never met asked me what church I went to. Our conversation started off on the wrong foot- I was a bit offended that she should ask about my religious practices before bothering to find out my name. After declaring that I did not attend church and seeing her genuine surprise at that fact, we continued talking. For the purpose of this testimony, I will call her "Lisa".
Somehow she convinced me to attend a lock-in (an event where the youth and chaperones are "locked in" to the church for a sort of slumber party- the only reason it is called a "lock in" is because you do not leave the building all night) hosted at a local church for several youth groups of different denominations. She assured me I would not be expected to pray, participate in any way I felt uncomfortable, or be bombarded by tons of well-to-dos trying to “convert” me. I could be a wallflower of sorts if I desired to.
Somehow she convinced me to attend a lock-in (an event where the youth and chaperones are "locked in" to the church for a sort of slumber party- the only reason it is called a "lock in" is because you do not leave the building all night) hosted at a local church for several youth groups of different denominations. She assured me I would not be expected to pray, participate in any way I felt uncomfortable, or be bombarded by tons of well-to-dos trying to “convert” me. I could be a wallflower of sorts if I desired to.
Upon attending the lock in, I was excited to see kids I knew, but the prayer before we ate weirded me out a little. Not that I’d never heard anyone say grace, my Grandma who lived out of state always said grace & even taught us kids a little prayer to say at meals when we visited her, but I’d never seen so many teenagers voluntarily stop what they were doing, settle down and respectfully focus so quickly. It made me a little uneasy- certainly it seemed a tad unnatural to me that not even one or two kids out of a group of about 50 were shuffling their feet noisily, whispering amongst themselves, or just acting as though nothing were going on and waiting for the prayer to pass.
Later in the evening, we were all called into a room where the lights were dim and there was an overhead projector running. We had our blankets & pillows and sprawled out wherever we wanted to. I opted to sit in the far back, near the door. In my mind I knew if things got to uncomfortable I could always just walk out & walk the 4 or 5 blocks home. After another prayer, they posted lyrics onto the overhead. I don’t remember what song in specific, but now I recognize all the songs they sung that night were Worship Songs. I didn’t sing, even though the tunes were simple enough and the words easy to read. In school I was in choir with Lisa, but that night when those first songs came on, I didn’t sing. I laid there, stretched out on my belly like one might if they were reading a book or watching TV, and read the lyrics.
Later in the evening, we were all called into a room where the lights were dim and there was an overhead projector running. We had our blankets & pillows and sprawled out wherever we wanted to. I opted to sit in the far back, near the door. In my mind I knew if things got to uncomfortable I could always just walk out & walk the 4 or 5 blocks home. After another prayer, they posted lyrics onto the overhead. I don’t remember what song in specific, but now I recognize all the songs they sung that night were Worship Songs. I didn’t sing, even though the tunes were simple enough and the words easy to read. In school I was in choir with Lisa, but that night when those first songs came on, I didn’t sing. I laid there, stretched out on my belly like one might if they were reading a book or watching TV, and read the lyrics.
As funny as it sounds, even though those lyrics changed my life, I cannot remember which ones they were. What I do remember very distinctly is what I learned and how I felt. I learned that there is Someone who loves me- no matter what. I learned that there is Someone who was and will be with me always and everywhere- no matter what. I learned that there is Someone who listens to me, cares for me personally and wants the best for me. I learned about God, not as an object of religious infatuation, or as a well-known but hardly understood concept with questionable tangible proof of authenticity, but as a loving Father, a selfless Friend and Someone whom supposedly desired to know, help, and spend time with me.
When Lisa noticed my quiet weeping, (she had been absorbed in singing praises) she asked me with great concern, “What’s wrong?” I do clearly remember my answer, “Nothing. For the first time in my life- nothing,” I sobbed. She didn’t couldn’t understand me through my tears, and I didn’t fully understand my impulsive answer either, so when I answered her more clearly, I simply told her nothing was wrong. She wasn’t convinced and offered that we could go into another room and talk or that she could arrange for me to call or get a ride home if I’d like. I declined & I believe she sensed my need to be with my own thoughts because she did not push the issue at all. Instead, she returned to singing praises, gave me all the space I needed after Worship was over and didn’t bring it up again. This was crucial because in the confused state I was in, I would’ve reacted defensively to any mention of the vulnerability I had shown earlier. I stayed through the lock in and agreed to go to her church service on Sunday- so long as the same conditions applied regarding not having to participate or being the “new” teen at church, someone everyone wants to say hello to “just to be sure they feel welcome.” I didn’t want to be singled out. I wanted to observe.
I went with Lisa to an Evangelical Covenant Church she attended & was very surprised and intrigued when I was received without any fuss whatsoever. I scrutinized over every detail my senses took in that day. I listened meticulously to every word spoken: intently considering prayers, curiously filled again with an inexplicably peaceful joy during songs of praise, stimulated by points and suggestions in the sermon and perplexed by the mentality of these people- these Christians.
I went with Lisa to an Evangelical Covenant Church she attended & was very surprised and intrigued when I was received without any fuss whatsoever. I scrutinized over every detail my senses took in that day. I listened meticulously to every word spoken: intently considering prayers, curiously filled again with an inexplicably peaceful joy during songs of praise, stimulated by points and suggestions in the sermon and perplexed by the mentality of these people- these Christians.
My first Bible
Following the service, somewhat to my displeasure, my friend Lisa & her family stayed to mingle for some time. This left me to maintain my wallflower status for longer than I desired & as I anticipated, someone sought me out- the pastor. The Pastor came to greet me. Opening with a disclaimer that Lisa had informed him of my desire to slip in the back door of the church, so to speak, he made polite small talk. Somehow in conversation it came about that he discovered I did not have access to a Bible. “You don’t have a Bible?” he asked me with a caring look. “No,” I answered, not sure why this was so surprising or even such a big deal. “Then I will give you one,” and straightaway he led me to his office and presented me with a Bible, telling me to keep it as my own. I thanked him excitedly & informed him that I would read it. At some point, he inquired as to whether or not I would be considering attending service again. I felt that it would be best to read the Bible before hearing any more sermons, because if the Bible is what the Christian faith is founded on, I’d like to know what it says for myself before submitting myself to the influence of one man’s interpretation of the Bible. I doubt I articulated it nearly as well back then, but I did get the message across to him and I didn’t understand why he looked at me as though I wasn’t fully aware of the undertaking I aimed to accomplish.
(Only now in hindsight do I realize that not all Christians have read the entire Bible. This confused me then- it is the basis for the faith they dedicate their lives to, surely they would have taken the time to read it? It still confuses me today.)
I brought my Bible home & began to read. And I read and I read and I read. Genesis seemed like a nice story, an old fable. The Old Testament continued on & I found myself relating to different people and the situations they found themselves in and often feeling empathy for God as He continuously expressed His love and offered guidance to these people, His creation, who continued to turn their back on Him. By the time I finished the Old Testament, I realized that somewhere in the process of reading it, my viewpoint had changed from reading this as a story to be evaluated to accepting this as a historical record.
Reading the book of Matthew was the most enlightening experience of my life up until that point. I was in awe of the love with which Jesus Christ lived His life, both outwardly toward the people of this world and inwardly in His relationship with Our Father. I was often moved to tears when reading His teachings. Though I had a basic concept of God being an All-Powerful being in heaven who you could pray to if you really needed help for yourself or someone you knew, and as a Lord who set forth a standard for right and wrong, nothing prepared me for what I would read about Jesus’ betrayal and crucifixion. Never have I wept with such a deep despair and ache in the very core of my soul as I wept when I read what they did to the Savior… and of what He did for me. There are no words that could convey to you the depth of emotion I felt having read that, but it may help you to gain some insight by clarifying to you that at the time I read of Christ’s crucifixion, I did not understand that He would be resurrected. I had read references to it without understanding their meaning, and the raw emotion of the knowledge of Christ’s death was so overwhelming that I doubt I would’ve remembered them even if I had given them deeper consideration ahead of time.
(Only now in hindsight do I realize that not all Christians have read the entire Bible. This confused me then- it is the basis for the faith they dedicate their lives to, surely they would have taken the time to read it? It still confuses me today.)
I brought my Bible home & began to read. And I read and I read and I read. Genesis seemed like a nice story, an old fable. The Old Testament continued on & I found myself relating to different people and the situations they found themselves in and often feeling empathy for God as He continuously expressed His love and offered guidance to these people, His creation, who continued to turn their back on Him. By the time I finished the Old Testament, I realized that somewhere in the process of reading it, my viewpoint had changed from reading this as a story to be evaluated to accepting this as a historical record.
Reading the book of Matthew was the most enlightening experience of my life up until that point. I was in awe of the love with which Jesus Christ lived His life, both outwardly toward the people of this world and inwardly in His relationship with Our Father. I was often moved to tears when reading His teachings. Though I had a basic concept of God being an All-Powerful being in heaven who you could pray to if you really needed help for yourself or someone you knew, and as a Lord who set forth a standard for right and wrong, nothing prepared me for what I would read about Jesus’ betrayal and crucifixion. Never have I wept with such a deep despair and ache in the very core of my soul as I wept when I read what they did to the Savior… and of what He did for me. There are no words that could convey to you the depth of emotion I felt having read that, but it may help you to gain some insight by clarifying to you that at the time I read of Christ’s crucifixion, I did not understand that He would be resurrected. I had read references to it without understanding their meaning, and the raw emotion of the knowledge of Christ’s death was so overwhelming that I doubt I would’ve remembered them even if I had given them deeper consideration ahead of time.
When my tears subsided well enough for my eyes to focus on the pages again, I read on and learned of Christ’s resurrection and ascension into Heaven with Our Father. The agony I had experienced just moments before was swept away with a joy, reassurance, peace, and exhilaration that can only be described as one that only the Lord can give. I was ecstatic, jumping and weeping for joy, praising God over & over that Jesus was alive. I laughed at myself thinking, I should have known God would not let Him just die like that… and that be the end. I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced a happiness that could be compared to those moments. I immediately said a prayer accepting Christ as my Lord and Savior.
How My Life has Changed Since Then:
Everything you've read up until this point would be meaningless if my life didn't demonstrate a real and definite change since accepting Christ's invitation to have a personal relationship with Him. Again, as time allows, I will write more & more here explaining how I have "grown" in my faith and give specific examples of ways & times that God has provided for me and granted me wisdom in situations I that I found myself at a loss of what to do or where to get the strength to do it.
As Soon as I Became a Christian:
I wish I could say that as soon as I accepted Christ into my life, I was a saint, and blessings poured down from Heaven. But... that would be lying and I'm not a fan of lying. Lying is wrong. Even white lies. Wrong. There are no "degrees" of lying. Anyhow, that's another subject... Back on track----> My life after becoming a Christian was... well, still my life. Things still went wrong. I still struggled with depression, and the worst of it hadn't even hit yet. Little could I have imagined what was in store for my teenage years.
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Before delving into details, I must say that there were some immediate changes upon placing my faith in Christ. First and foremost, I found that I suddenly had this inner wellspring of hope, this almost-optimistic attitude (which is quite a stretch to describe me; I bear the [rotten] fruit of a critical spirit... and sadly, not even usually in a "constructive criticism" type of way). I didn't become some happy-go-lucky fruit loop; I had realized that my biggest fears- of being unlovable and utterly alone could never come true. Talk about giving a person hope- I had a rock to stand on despite the storm surrounding me.
Another change that came about fairly quickly was in my relationships. Turns out when you discover something that is life-changing, it changes your life in ways you wouldn't (or at least I didn't) expect. I had never been much on swearing or using foul language, but suddenly, after beginning to attend church, everyone started to attribute my distaste for cussing to this new-found religion. Hmmm, didn't make any sense to me since I'd always been that way. In hindsight I can clearly see they were just uncomfortable with my decision to place my faith in Jesus and they felt awkward around me. I really couldn't understand why these friends of mine suddenly treated me different just because I'd learned some incredible news and was attending a few services. I didn't try to convince other kids to believe in Jesus, I didn't go around trying to "spread the faith." I was a newbie to the Christian world and was soaking up all the knowledge and relationship I could find. It hadn't been that long ago that I'd been offended when Lisa asked me what church I attended. I was too young to understand the truth behind the saying that "you should never talk about religion or politics" and certainly unaware that you don't even have to actually talk about them to create conflict, you can just associate with a group within one or the other and it speaks volumes.
Another change that came about fairly quickly was in my relationships. Turns out when you discover something that is life-changing, it changes your life in ways you wouldn't (or at least I didn't) expect. I had never been much on swearing or using foul language, but suddenly, after beginning to attend church, everyone started to attribute my distaste for cussing to this new-found religion. Hmmm, didn't make any sense to me since I'd always been that way. In hindsight I can clearly see they were just uncomfortable with my decision to place my faith in Jesus and they felt awkward around me. I really couldn't understand why these friends of mine suddenly treated me different just because I'd learned some incredible news and was attending a few services. I didn't try to convince other kids to believe in Jesus, I didn't go around trying to "spread the faith." I was a newbie to the Christian world and was soaking up all the knowledge and relationship I could find. It hadn't been that long ago that I'd been offended when Lisa asked me what church I attended. I was too young to understand the truth behind the saying that "you should never talk about religion or politics" and certainly unaware that you don't even have to actually talk about them to create conflict, you can just associate with a group within one or the other and it speaks volumes.
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A few friends teased me, at first light-heartedly, about my attendance to church. When I laughed but provided a very legitimate response that it was something important to me in my life, their jest turned more to bullying and hence the friendship was soured. Then there were some friends who didn't really know what to think or say about the matter, but they definitely placed some distance in our relationship and it never seemed to be ground we regained.
The most difficult of all changes in relationships was the change in the atmosphere at my mom's house. I said earlier that I hadn't tried to convince any of my friends to become Christians or go to church, which is true. It is a different story with family though. My sister is a few years older than me and also struggled with depression. She wasn't as outgoing as I was and had only a couple good friends, but absolutely no social life. She didn't even talk on the phone. (Doesn't sound too major until you remember, this is a teenage girl we're talking about.)
The most difficult of all changes in relationships was the change in the atmosphere at my mom's house. I said earlier that I hadn't tried to convince any of my friends to become Christians or go to church, which is true. It is a different story with family though. My sister is a few years older than me and also struggled with depression. She wasn't as outgoing as I was and had only a couple good friends, but absolutely no social life. She didn't even talk on the phone. (Doesn't sound too major until you remember, this is a teenage girl we're talking about.)
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I remember one night she was complaining to me that there was just "no point" to anything, basically no point to life. I knew that feeling. I knew how empty and yet overwhelming it felt. I knew how it hurt. I wanted her to have this well-spring of hope that I'd discovered. I wanted her to know that she would never be unloved and completely alone either. I wanted to help her. She was my big sister and she was in pain. She wasn't at all receptive to the idea of reading the Bible or going to church. She thought I was a nutcase that was following whatever trend came my way. To her credit, I did certainly follow some trends during high school, but never mindlessly, and not concerning religious beliefs.
So my sister shot down the idea of even finding out about Christianity (the greatest thing that has EVER happened in my life). Total bummer, but not the end of the world. We weren't the greatest of friends back then and I was used to her being irritated or annoyed by me. It seemed the natural way of things. The real tension didn't start up until my mom caught wind of the fact that I'd invited my sister to attend youth group with me. Oh boy, there was a can of worms I didn't mean to open and didn't even see coming! I was chewed out for "trying to push my beliefs" on my sister. I tried to explain where I was coming from to my mom, but she didn't want to hear it, not even for a second. My mom and I have never been good at communication. We literally can only make it about 30 minutes in phone conversation before one of us gets under the other's skin or ticks the other off, even to this day (and our relationship is better now than it EVER has been in the past). In person, we don't usually make it 10 minutes before there's some form of conflict. So, you can imagine, that when I was a very outspoken and argumentative teen, we had more screaming matches than actual 5 minute conversations. My mom not only reminded me that churches "are just out for people's money" and told me not to invite my sister to church events, she told me never to talk to my sister about my beliefs again. Ouch. So much for trying to share the love of Jesus Christ under that roof...
So my sister shot down the idea of even finding out about Christianity (the greatest thing that has EVER happened in my life). Total bummer, but not the end of the world. We weren't the greatest of friends back then and I was used to her being irritated or annoyed by me. It seemed the natural way of things. The real tension didn't start up until my mom caught wind of the fact that I'd invited my sister to attend youth group with me. Oh boy, there was a can of worms I didn't mean to open and didn't even see coming! I was chewed out for "trying to push my beliefs" on my sister. I tried to explain where I was coming from to my mom, but she didn't want to hear it, not even for a second. My mom and I have never been good at communication. We literally can only make it about 30 minutes in phone conversation before one of us gets under the other's skin or ticks the other off, even to this day (and our relationship is better now than it EVER has been in the past). In person, we don't usually make it 10 minutes before there's some form of conflict. So, you can imagine, that when I was a very outspoken and argumentative teen, we had more screaming matches than actual 5 minute conversations. My mom not only reminded me that churches "are just out for people's money" and told me not to invite my sister to church events, she told me never to talk to my sister about my beliefs again. Ouch. So much for trying to share the love of Jesus Christ under that roof...
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My dad didn't seem to have much reaction at all to my becoming a Christian. If I told him I was going to church or reading my Bible he just said, "Good"; the conversation ended there. I never found that to be odd at the time, but now that I've grown I often wonder why my dad had nothing to say. His mother was an ordained minister- quite the accomplishment for a woman of her day. I'd known that my dad had a strong distaste for churches and that he'd had a "falling out" with a pastor at one point- during which he told the pastor something to the effect of, "I could be closer to God out in the middle of the woods than you'll ever be in this damn brick building." He walked out and never looked back. Now, as I try to teach my children how deeply the Lord loves them and that they can rely on His provision, I wonder why he never told us that God was real or that God loved us. I wonder why he never said anything about God at all. He still believes in God; he believes in Heaven and Hell. Why then, wouldn't he have wanted to do everything in his power to foster a relationship between his children and their Savior? I may never know.
Okay, so I covered how some things changed immediately:
- like gaining a sense of security and a source of hope for the first time in my life. I didn't realize this until it was in hindsight, but from the age of 5-21, the MOST STABLE thing/relationship in my life was the relationship I had with my cat, Debbie. Who names a cat "Debbie", you ask? The 5 year old me, that's who. I distinctly remember that my first choice for a name was "Cinnamon" (although I couldn't pronounce it perfectly) because of the reddish brown tinge to her fur. Mom told me that name was too long for her to learn to come to when I called her, so I matter-of-factly replied, "Okay, then I'll call her 'Debbie.'" And that was that. Through all different houses we lived in, different school I attended, different people (parents/grandparents) I stayed with, Debbie was there. Don't get me wrong, she was a VERY intuitive cat, but, in comparison to knowing I could've been pouring my heart out to an All-Knowing, All-Powerful, merciful, loving, faithful, just, infinite and ever-present Lord of Lords and King of Kings that desires a personal relationship with each and every one of His creations, regardless of how far awry they've turned from His plan for harmony with Himself and each other,...well, let's just say it seems a little pitiful to talk to a cat in comparison.
- some of my friends started to distance themselves since they didn't want to be associated with (or judged by/accountable to) my newfound "Christian"ness.
- tension in our house escalated more than it already was. Yip. EEEEE. Things were always a fight at home already, and adding in the fact that my mom viewed me as acting like I was suddenly "better than everyone else" or at least "had all the answers" with all this religion-stuff was really hurtful. You see, my mom has always had a low opinion of me. I'm not making this up, and it's not just perceived on my part. I don't measure up . . . to whatever she'd hoped for when she had a second child. Well, I actually found out in my teen years that I had been "the baby to save their marriage" but, my mom informed me that "all I had done was ripped it apart" because I "was so difficult." I could rant on this one for a long time, but I'll try keep it short. First, babies don't save marriages, they add stress to them, so if you or anyone you know things that having a baby with someone will help resolve relationship issues and "bring them closer together," then take my advice- try it with a puppy and see just how that goes over. At least you can give away a puppy to a loving home if things don't work out. Second, now that I have my own children, looking back I wonder that my mom expected me to behave just like my sister: quiet, content, calm, easy-going, hesitant, shy. I came into the picture with a very different demeanor and personality: loud, active, fidgety (when I was younger), and always boldly trying new things or pushing boundaries to see what would happen. I was a full-fledged Tom-Boy and I latched myself on as a "Daddy's Girl" at a very young age. In contrast, my sister was a bit older and in every conversation or argument, always took my mom's side. Third, even if my mom genuinely mistook every action I made as intentional rebellion to make her life miserable (which wasn't on my mind at the age of 3 or even at 12), I do not feel it was appropriate to openly blame a child for the parents marriage falling apart. Ever. I wasn't doing drugs, going to parties, beating anyone up, stealing anything, running away, failing any classes. . . but even if I had been, it wasn't my fault that my parents' rocky marriage didn't magically improve at my birth. Did I mention I was colicky too? That really set things off on the right foot, I'm sure. (I have written numerous poems about family over the years.)
How about some of the things that didn't change immediately:
- My demeanor didn't just perk up into a happy-bubbly (fake) "everything will be just fine" type of attitude. C'mon now, I had hope in Jesus, but it was a deep, grounding type of hope, not an immature, impulsive, runs-over-the-top hope like you hope for a minute that you'll be selected to win that lifetime supply of free chocolate the junk-mail promises you. Okay, weird example, but you know what I'm saying. Well, hopefully you get it...
- My bad habits and weaknesses in my character didn't just dissipate the way that your breath is visible and then vanishes on a cold winter morning. I couldn't just take a deep breath and sigh away an entire lifetime of how I think and how I'd learned to behave (either self-taught or outside influenced behaviors). I still had a huge temper. I still had a major tendency to think I could and should do everything on my own. Because I could. Or I could learn how or work at it long enough or I would do it alone and fail just so I wouldn't have to ask help or look weak.
- My judgment was still very skewed. I have learned over the years that their are 2 different types of knowledge: head knowledge (logical, reasoning) and heart knowledge (wisdom, intuition). I think we all need a healthy dose of both at different times. It's not always a good idea to follow your heart (because emotions can take a person for a wild ride and making decisions in the heat of them can have long-term results). Also, only using logic can leave room to miss out on some of the more important factors that we may not consider when taking a "facts-only" approach. Such things like the effects of becoming cut off from family and friends are easily written off logically- who needs 'em? I can always make new friends. Emotionally speaking, though, it'll be a lot harder to deal with than we realize. Not having a friend to bounce ideas off of or to vent to. We are social creatures and we need to have relationships. In our haste to change circumstances, we may sever ties or burn bridges that we will wish later had remained intact.
What happened next? Like... in [my] real life?
In junior high, I continued to live my life in "compartments." Let me try to explain.... There were areas of my life that I clearly saw overlapped, and areas that I didn't realize had anything to do with each other. This is in compartment "A" and that's in compartment "B," so they don't have to be totally kosher. Right? Nahhh, that's just rationalization and justification (explaining with excuses something you want to continue believing). For example, I clearly understood that being angry and bitter all the time wasn't compatible with follow Jesus. However, I didn't have a clue that the fact that I was desperate to always have a boyfriend could have anything to do with the Lord. Could it? No, certainly not. Not as long as I wasn't having sex outside of marriage or being totally slutty or disrespecting myself, right? I mean, as long as you're not doing anything wrong or going too far, why would God care if I really hated being alone (as in without a romantic relationship to pursue)? Clearly, He wouldn't mind since I was being "moral" in my decisions. No drinking. No drugs. No name-calling or abuse. No sex outside marriage (of any variety). No. Big. Deal.
Wait, actually, it was a really big deal- it was a huge roller coaster ride to always feel like I had to be "good enough" to have a boyfriend or to be wanted by someone else. I was desperate to know that I was desirable- that someone would desire to spend time with me, to get to know me, to be associated with me and to call me "theirs." So, naturally, every time a relationship ended, my self esteem and confidence plummeted to pathetic levels. Basically: relationship ending=world ending (If this is where you're at right now, or if you really cannot relate, you could read some of my poems about strained or broken relationships. Each one is also tagged with what age I was when I wrote it, just for curiosity's sake.)
Looking back at my junior high and high school years, I can observe how dependent upon my own performance I was. I was pressured to score very highly in school by my parents who had the best intentions. They wanted me to have opportunities for the future and to never do less than my best out of laziness. I realize now that I based my identity on what I accomplished or attained. I would have described myself as: the smart girl and as so-and-so's girlfriend. (whoever the so-and-so happened to be at the moment) I took it very personally and very hard whenever I failed. Failing could mean being ditched by a guy for the prettier/happier/more fun/easier girl or it could mean getting a B on a test [when I obviously should have studied harder to get 100%].
Really long story made short and lacking details:
(Honestly I have forgotten many of the surrounding details, I think this is a blessing that my memory has a self-preservation mode which blocks out most details of really negative and stressful portions of my life.)
I suffered from depression and despite trying multiple antidepressant prescriptions (which I would advise strongly against), I formed my own negative habits to cope with my emotional pain and mental stresses. Including, but not limited to:
I was hospitalized at least twice for my own safety.
How could this happen when I was supposed to have hope and faith in Jesus Christ? Why didn't I just pray for help if I really was a true believer? How is this testimony helpful? Telling others I came to Christ as my Lord and Savior and then within 18 months had tried to kill myself at least twice? Doesn't seem logical....
Nope, it's not logical. It's the sad fact that we live in a world where, even if we believe in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, and have accepted His free gift of salvation, we are constantly in a battle. The forces of the battle are:
Looking back at my junior high and high school years, I can observe how dependent upon my own performance I was. I was pressured to score very highly in school by my parents who had the best intentions. They wanted me to have opportunities for the future and to never do less than my best out of laziness. I realize now that I based my identity on what I accomplished or attained. I would have described myself as: the smart girl and as so-and-so's girlfriend. (whoever the so-and-so happened to be at the moment) I took it very personally and very hard whenever I failed. Failing could mean being ditched by a guy for the prettier/happier/more fun/easier girl or it could mean getting a B on a test [when I obviously should have studied harder to get 100%].
Really long story made short and lacking details:
(Honestly I have forgotten many of the surrounding details, I think this is a blessing that my memory has a self-preservation mode which blocks out most details of really negative and stressful portions of my life.)
I suffered from depression and despite trying multiple antidepressant prescriptions (which I would advise strongly against), I formed my own negative habits to cope with my emotional pain and mental stresses. Including, but not limited to:
- having an eating disorder (bulimia)
- self mutilation (cutting, scraping and burning my skin)
- suicide attempts (overdosing on pills and other)
I was hospitalized at least twice for my own safety.
How could this happen when I was supposed to have hope and faith in Jesus Christ? Why didn't I just pray for help if I really was a true believer? How is this testimony helpful? Telling others I came to Christ as my Lord and Savior and then within 18 months had tried to kill myself at least twice? Doesn't seem logical....
Nope, it's not logical. It's the sad fact that we live in a world where, even if we believe in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, and have accepted His free gift of salvation, we are constantly in a battle. The forces of the battle are:
The World: all people; cultural, social, & media influences
The Flesh: our natural (without the Holy Spirit) selves; our natural reactions, responses, desires, fears, etc. The Devil: Satan |
God the Father; Jesus Christ; the Holy Spirit
|
Now, I know this seems to be getting a little off-course when it comes to telling the story of how I came to know Jesus and how He has changed my life, but it's important that you understand the components at work here, as well as the fact that I always have a choice. And so do you. We can't always choose what happens to us or around us, but we can always choose how we respond. Below is an explanation of how those 4 forces were at work in my life and how I responded to them. I think it will give you some insight as to why I was saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, and yet I was living a life that didn't reflect God's ways or His blessings. This chart is by no means all inclusive! I could probably continue to list things all night long, but I'm just going to list a few to illustrate the concept.
Force:The World
The Flesh
The Devil
God the Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit
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Affecting Me:Pressure to get and maintain excellent grades in school
Desire to be loved and not alone
Promotes hopelessness & self pity
Drawing me nearer to the Lord with a curiosity and hunger for understanding about His Word & His ways. Protecting me from further harm despite my poor decisions.
|
My Response:Pushing myself to perform and beating myself up if I fell short
Sought romantic relationships continuously
Sought ways to relieve my own pain
I continued to read my Bible, attend church activities, ask questions, and pray silently. I also justified keeping around some bad habits/influences/friends by making excuses.
|
I had a God-sized hole in my heart that I kept trying to fill with other things.
I didn't realize it, but I was forever dangling a carrot in front of myself, saying things like:
Things will be better when __________________________.
If only I could just _______________________________.
If only he/she would just ___________________________.
I will be happier after _____________________________.
I can relax once _________________________________.
My life will straighten out when _______________________.
Things will get easier as soon as _____________________.
Pick whatever and fill in the blank. I was constantly chasing after something or someone.
Things will be better when school gets out.
If only I could just make them understand.
If only he/she would just stop treating me like this.
I will be happier after I move out of my parents' house.
I can relax once I get this done.
My life will straighten out when things are good with my boyfriend.
Things will get easier as soon as I have more freedom.
I didn't realize it, but I was forever dangling a carrot in front of myself, saying things like:
Things will be better when __________________________.
If only I could just _______________________________.
If only he/she would just ___________________________.
I will be happier after _____________________________.
I can relax once _________________________________.
My life will straighten out when _______________________.
Things will get easier as soon as _____________________.
Pick whatever and fill in the blank. I was constantly chasing after something or someone.
Things will be better when school gets out.
If only I could just make them understand.
If only he/she would just stop treating me like this.
I will be happier after I move out of my parents' house.
I can relax once I get this done.
My life will straighten out when things are good with my boyfriend.
Things will get easier as soon as I have more freedom.
Jesus had saved my soul, but my life was a piece of work and I wasn't offering Him a management position.
I continuously looked for ways to gain control of my out-of-control emotions, fixing my eyes on my worries and remembering occasionally to reach my hand toward my personal Savior to gather up just enough strength, hope and courage to jump back into the mess of life without Him. Although His Spirit was hidden in my heart, I kept His Lordship at arms length. Part of this was immaturity: physically, mentally, and especially spiritually. I've always been most prayerful at bedtime. While there's nothing wrong with that in and of itself, here's what was happening:
I continuously looked for ways to gain control of my out-of-control emotions, fixing my eyes on my worries and remembering occasionally to reach my hand toward my personal Savior to gather up just enough strength, hope and courage to jump back into the mess of life without Him. Although His Spirit was hidden in my heart, I kept His Lordship at arms length. Part of this was immaturity: physically, mentally, and especially spiritually. I've always been most prayerful at bedtime. While there's nothing wrong with that in and of itself, here's what was happening:
Ever seen the famous painting where Jesus is standing at the door and knocking? Well, you can look up the Scripture verses and do your own research as to what the painting really means/references, but here is what it REMINDS me of in my own life: Jesus is a gentleman. He won't force His way into an area of my life that I haven't invited Him into. His commands do not change, His expectations do not change, He is always everywhere and knows everything- that's not what I'm talking about. But what I'm saying is, as a Christian, if you don't invite the Lord into your romantic relationships, He won't barge in and solve problems or orchestrate positive changes. If you don't request His guidance on what to major in at your college, He won't necessarily stop you from taking those classes and pursuing that career EVEN if He knows it isn't the right path for you and you'll end up switching majors, going back to school, or working in a completely different area without a degree. He respects our limited ability to make meaningful choices. (I cannot delve into my full belief system on that last theologically loaded statement, but here's a brief example. We can't choose to go to Heaven or choose to go to Hell. God decides that. We can't choose to fly simply by flapping our arms up and down. We can't choose to be forgiven of our sins before God (we an apologize and accept His awaiting forgiveness from His work on the cross, but we can't choose in a way to force Him to forgive us. We can choose whom we marry, we can choose where we live, we can make numerous lifestyle choices and countless daily choices such as what socks to wear and coffee to drink. We can't choose to change our own hearts.) We can't maintain full control of the reins in our lives and then gripe to God that He *should* do something about this situation down here. Catch my drift? It seems simple, but it is a message that so many Christians, whether new believers or long-time believers, simply do not grasp or sadly do not apply.
I was stuck in Step #2 above (loving Jesus, but not giving Him enough authority in my life) for years. I can only imagine how much heartache I could have avoided, how much more the Lord could've used me for His glory during those years than He was able to. I am forever thankful that God uses all things (even our stubborn, independent decisions often made with poor information and selfish motives) for the good of those who love Him. You'll see how He's worked that verse out in my life when I get to adding the "young adult section" of this autobiography!
**************************More to Come*******************************