Like most bloggers (I would guess), I’ve never posted my testimony on here. But I agree with Tim Challies when he says that it’s good for Christians to share their testimonies so that nonchristians can see the work of Christ in our lives. He mentions Ligon Duncan’s opinion that
"one of the great benefits of sharing and reading testimonies is that they testify to the fact that, although there is only one way to God, there are many ways to Jesus Christ. No man can come to God unless He comes through Jesus Christ. Yet there are as many ways of coming to Christ as there are followers of Christ."
That said, here’s my story:
I was blessed with two very wise and godly parents. I grew up learning about Jesus. We’ve been going to church for as long as I remember, and I’ve always been taught about its importance in my life. I’ve heard stories about the first few years of my life, and although I don’t remember them, I know that things were rough for my mom, my sister, and me. My mom remarried when I was 4 years old, and our lives were forever changed. She married one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known and by far the best Daddy a girl could have. My mom lovingly taught me alot of big truths about God, his mercy, love, and grace, but there’s no better way that she could have taught me about the way God adopted me into his family and as his own child than by marrying my dad. I learned at a really young age what it means to be loved when you don’t deserve it and haven’t earned it. I learned what it means to have someone just embrace you with open arms, and love you just because. Of course I didn’t realize all of that at the time, but over the years it started to make sense. I would learn truths about God, and realize that God had shown me incredible examples of them in my own life.
There was never an exact time that I remember being "converted," so to speak, but there is one day that I can remember that had a significant impact on my relationship with Jesus. It was Easter sunday, 1996. I was 11 years old, almost 12. I was in the middle of going through the communicants class at our church, which had really pushed me to think hard about what I believed and why. I had begun thinking about Christianity and what it meant to have a relationship with Jesus. That sunday, for some reason, it all came together while I was sitting in church. I sat there, listening to the sermon, and something hit me. I can’t remember what the sermon was about, but I remember sitting there with tears streaming down my face as I listened, realizing that Christianity means more than simply accepting what my parents believe, than just putting a label on myself, than just trying to be good and obey my parents. It is a lifestyle, but a lifestyle that comes about as a result of a relationship. Without that relationship, the lifestyle means nothing. The label means nothing. Life means nothing.
I don’t know if I can say that that’s the exact day I became a Christian or not, because I think I always knew Jesus. I guess that’s just the day that God chose to reveal to me the depth of what I already believed and what it really meant. I love that God chose to reveal some of these truths to me at such a young age, because it means that there is no way that I can say that I had anything to do with it. I understand the free gift of God’s grace and mercy because there’s no way a little 11 year old girl could have understood those truths on her own. I understood that my role was merely as recipient, and that I couldn’t have comprehended any of it without His placing those truths there in my heart. At 11 years old, God opened my eyes to see a glimpse of his grace, and I will never forget.
In the 11 years since, God has continually shown me glimpses of his grace and mercy. He has taught me a love for people that I could never have developed on own. He’s taught me that his love for me is stronger than I could ever imagine. He’s taught me that he always gives us glimpses of his glory through tiny glimpses of our own lives, if we’ll just stop to take them in.