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.
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