My Story... Making it My Own

So when we last left off I was a tiny girl in a folding chair in a small country church... let's skip ahead to my teen years.... 17 to be exact...

I was not the model citizen of God's heavenly army that you may expect (or I hope you would).  I am very much a people person and need to be liked by people (my personal snare that Satan trips me up on ALL.THE.TIME)  and coming from a very small town where there were not many Christian influences, I quickly fell prey to all forms of people-idols.

One of the small things that my parents did to help us to find like-minded folk was to send us away to summer camp each year to a place called Word of Life.  It was through years of contact with many Christian kids/teens that I got a glimpse of the bigger world than my teeny little world in upstate NY.  One summer I even spent the entire summer working as a waitress at their resort.  It was at this time I was introduced to the Word of Life Bible Institute.  Now, for those of you not familiar with this particular institution... it is a year-long intense dive into all things Bible related in an ultra-strict, some calling it legalistic, type of place.  Just to give you a favor of the culture, no PC (personal contact) between males and females, no movies, no radios, no card games, no televisions, and so and so forth...  So for a 16-year old kid, there for the summer, still liking to go home and live a normal life... going to college here?  NOT A CHANCE!!  Can you see where I am going?

On the back side of this little story, my grandmother graduated from Liberty University and loved it, so much so she encouraged all her grandchildren to attend there.  I took her up on it. While a Liberty is a private christian college (which made my parents happy), it was big and it was a normal college with normal rules.

It was also that year that a large grant came through that made going to Liberty University a great deal and can you guess what the deal included??... you guessed it...you had to do your freshman year at Word of Life Bible Institute.  So that is how at 17 I suddenly find my sitting at computer filling out an application for WOLBI and not exactly knowing how I got there but convincing myself I can do anything for a year... right?

So long story short I end up at WOLBI and lo and behold it is actually good for me and I enjoy it.  But more than that it is where I end up seeing the Christian life lived out for real in others, I see what it really means to be a Christian.  Which means in January 1994 I rededicated my life and this time I made it my own.  Which bring me to the next stage of my story... did I really mean it?  Stay tuned....

My Story... the Beginning

I recently asked someone about their testimony and then of course they asked... what about you?  I have chewed on this question for a month now and while I know I have a simple answer, my testimony is so big with so many moments in between I have really desired to write down those moments, because you see, my testimony is a moment in time, a specific moment, but it is also what I am from then until now... many moments.  So I thought I would pick up my digital pen and dust off my digital pad of paper and write down those moments in a mini series of My Story.  While it may only intrigue a few folks, it can stop rolling round in my little brain and find a home here.

So my testimony, or for those who don't even know what that means, my personal walk with the Almighty God of this universe began at the humble age of 10.  I pretty much grew up in a Christian home, my parents did not.  They both were saved when I was 4 years old by complete strangers (at the time, but now life long friends) when they were "almost dared" to go to church and then invited home to dinner and presented the gospel.  They were the first in both of their families and have had the privilege of seeing many of their siblings and parents come to know the Lord.  But my guess is that seeing their children (one of whom is even a pastor) and grandchildren know the Lord and all grow up in a Christian home is the greatest blessing of all... but I digress... that is their story not mine.  But... it does lead you to my story because it was in the church where my parents took us every Sunday, Wednesday, and any other day there was something happening there, that God reached down and opened a tiny little girl's heart.

Ok so the year is 1985, and the Sunday is extra special because it is Easter Sunday. But not the morning service where all the lilies are and the little bouncy dresses with pretty straw bonnets are.  It is the evening service, when everyone has had their ham dinner, the lilies have all been taken home, and the service is a little more causal.  I remember I loved the evening service in that little church because we could choose the songs, the pastor would ask what are we going to sing and you could pick your favorite and call out the number and we would sing it.  (My favorite was always Pass It On)  This Sunday though I don't remember all the details, and I was a kid, so I remember that when the pastor started to speak, it was my time to "tune out" or color in my coloring book.   I remember this night was different.  Something caught my attention about what the pastor was saying and I really listened... it was the story of Jesus and his death on a cross, one I had heard many times, but this time it was different, it was about ME.  And while there was no alter call, no hand raising, no special rejoicing, it was just me, a tiny little girl, sitting in a brown folding chair, asking Jesus to come into her heart.

To this day 30+ years later, I can remember that moment clear as day.  I can remember the feeling of freshness.  I can remember the almost brand new me.

Now that is just the beginning of my story, God had many milestones ahead for me.... stay tuned.