Testimony.

So, I was asked to say my testimony at the student group at my church and so I thought I'd write it on here too - hopefully it will encourage and edify people...

The thought of telling my testimony to other people often grips me with fear. I think this is mainly because I've heard so many other people's testimonies where God seems to be really BIG. There are people who have been suffering horrible illnesses and been on death's door and God has healed them; there are people who have led a life so far away from God's plan, they have been enticed into a spiral of drugs, sex and depression, yet the Holy Spirit has convicted them and they've turned their lives around; and then there are others, who have had a pretty safe life, nothing too exciting has happened and yet they still trust the same God that healed the sick person and convicted the drug abuser and sex addict. I fit into the category of the latter. I am so grateful to God that I've never experienced anything so horrible in my life - my parents are Christians, they love me unconditionally, I've been set an amazing example of living for Christ with my Grandma. However, in regards to my saying my testimony, my initial thoughts always consist along the lines of: "they won't find it very exciting, I don't think they'd be interested." But, the more I think about it, I realise that although I haven't been dramatically healed physically, nor did I use to be a hard drug user but then "saw the light" (not that there's anything wrong with those testimonies - God can do all that and it's amazing when he does), God has still done amazing things in me, even if they seem small in comparison to other people's stories. He's changed my heart, He's carried me through the desert - through times when I've just felt spiritually empty - restoring my soul, and he's given my life purpose. So I warn you in advance, this story isn't going to be a particuarly dramatic rollercoaster of a story, but I hope and pray that you will find it encouraging, nonetheless.

I could go on for hours about how God's been working in my life but I'm mainly going to focus on one stage of my spiritual journey, which was when I was in Year 8.

Before I tell you about that though, I want to say one little story. Now this may sound rather strange but I'm going to say it anyway...I want to tell you about my birth! I strongly believe that God does not make mistakes - God did not screw up when He made each one of us. There is no mistake that we are alive and even here today. I believe that God has given everyone a purpose and there is an amazing reason why we even exist. I often forget this truth, but I find re-telling the story of my birth just speaks volumes of God's promises and His faithfulness!

So, the morning before I was born, my dad was doing his Bible reading and the verse he was directed to read was Psalm 118 v 17: "I will not die but live to tell of what the Lord has done." At the time, my dad didn't particuarly think about the meaning of that verse - he had other things to be thinking about - he was about to be a dad for the first time! My mum had had an uneventful pregnancy with no complications. A few hours later, my mum went into labour and things started getting complicated. Somehow, I'd managed to get myself tangled up with the umbilical cord and - trying not to be too graphic now! - the more my mum pushed, the tighter the cord got round my neck; I was slowly strangling myself. When I was finally born, I wasn't breathing.

Some of you more medically-minded people may know that two minutes after a baby is born, the midwives/doctors/whoever do, what's called, an APGAR test to see how healthy the baby is. They look at really basic things like: 'are they breathing?', 'do they have a normal skin colour?', 'do they have a pulse?' and you get given a score out of ten. Most babies easily score ten out of ten. It's not particuarly difficult.

I got 2/10...

...low scores right from the beginning!! They thought I wasn't going to make it when God suddenly reminded my dad of the verse he'd read that morning: "I WILL NOT die, but LIVE to tell of what the Lord has done." As you can see, I didn't die. I don't know why I didn't because I should have. But God doesn't make mistakes. There is a reason why I didn't die then. God knew me before I was conceived and has a plan for my life. 

"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be."   ~ Psalm 139 v 13-16

Praise God!

So, fast-forward a decade: I went to church, Sunday School, youth groups, gave my life to Christ properly after doing a Topz Bible Study in my bedroom when I was 8 years old finally starting to comprehend what signficance Jesus' sacrifice meant for me. Things were pretty good. 

Then Year 8 happened.

I went to an all girls school and loved it. I had a great group of friends at the beginning of the year and we had loads of banter so I looked forward to going to school every morning. One day, two other girls in my class started hanging out with us in our "friendship group". They seemed nice enough and we got on well. However, for some reason, they decided that they didn't like this other girl in my class simply because, in their eyes, she wasn't very 'cool'. They said and did some really cruel things to her, to her face and behind her back. This girl had been made in the image of God and was loved deeply by Him - she did not deserve this. To my shame, I did not say anything about the bullying for weeks and weeks. I didn't join in, I just stayed silent. If I'm honest, I cared more about what these girls would think of me more than what God thinks and his desire that this girl be treated with love and friendship, just as he treats us. Eventually, I couldn't stand the Holy Spirit convicting me anymore and felt that I had to say something. As I was still a massive coward, I couldn't say it to their face but I wrote them a letter explaining how I thought it wasn't very nice of them to be like that and would they please stop it.

Good news: the girl stopped being bullied.

What I wasn't fully expecting was the cold reception I received from them because of that letter. They wrote me back a letter outlining every detail they didn't like about me - my looks, my personality, my actions - and tried to get lots of people to sign it, they called me names, they spread nasty rumours about me and they turned some of my friends away from me. 

I'm generally a pretty sensitive person so I should have felt alone, rejected and insecure. And if I'm honest, I did feel that quite a bit. Yet, at the same time, I felt the most-powerful, surpassing presence of God with me, reminding me of who HE says I am, comforting me when I let the girls' words affect me, giving me strength to keep on praising him and rejoicing in His love even when I felt battered and bruised from the lies that were being thrown at me from every angle. He protected me from their slander and all I wanted to do was rejoice! If God was on my side, who could ever stand against me?! I would be sitting alone in the classroom with no friends, I would hear my old friends laughing at me loudly enough so I would hear, and I would just feel my Father holding me close in His arms, sheltering me from the storm. The main thing I felt sad about was the fact that these girls did not know their Creator and their Saviour. It broke my heart. God helped me to love my enemies. 

This experience led me to want to show my faith publically so I decided I wanted to be baptised. I really felt God wanted me to invite one of the girls that had been particuarly nasty and at first I resisted this because I wanted to not have her laughing at me at my own baptism, for goodness sake! After a while though, I just asked her and she came along and heard my testimony (where I quickly skimmed over how I was having a hard time at school and God was helping me through it), she heard the Gospel and then saw me being baptised. 

After the service, she came up to me and apologised. At that moment, I was reminded of the great sacrifice God made for us. He has shown me so much grace and forgiveness that we don't deserve and he did it without hesitation because He loves us. How could I not show this girl a little bit of forgiveness and grace, when Jesus had lavished it on me? It was difficult, but with the help of God (I needed a lot of it), I forgave her - and oh! forgiveness is the most liberating and freeing feeling!

Still now, I struggle with worrying about what other people think of me and I have to constantly remind myself that my life has a purpose and that God loves me and His opinion is the only one that matters!