I just realized that some of you reading this blog, especially those of you in other countries, might not actually be Christians. I know I started this blog to chronicle my life and to help those close to me keep up with what was going on with me, but I also feel that this blog is an outreach of sorts. So, I want to share my testimony with all of you.
My parents were already Christians when I was born, and they were also very involved in a church. I grew up in that church. My earliest memory is of me standing in the front parking lot of the church, watching the Vacation Bible School kick-off. Like I said my parents were very involved in the church. My dad was a deacon, my mom was the vacation bible school director and a preschool teacher at the adjacent private school, and together they taught marriage enrichment classes. I attended the private school that my mom taught at, which was also held in the classrooms of the church. Since I was almost literally at the church every day, I knew a lot about the Bible and about Jesus. I knew the gospel, and I knew the worship songs. I was surrounded by the culture of the church. When I was six years old, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord. I started reading my Bible outside of church and learning about what Jesus called us to do.
When I was seven, the private school shut down. My parents were determined to make sure that I grew up in a stimulating, healthy environment, and they did thorough research on the elementary schools in our area. While there were several that were promising for my intellectual and mental growth, they weren't so much for my spiritual growth. A friend of ours told us they were moving out to a different county that had an excellent school system. Though it was a public school, my parents saw that it was a Christian community and it seemed like a good place to move. So we did.
For me, as a seven year old who was sheltered and lived five minutes away from the only other place I went on a regular basis, moving was a foreign concept to me. Though my parents explained it and made sure I understood what was happening, it didn't really make since to me. I became very upset with my family, especially my mom, because for some reason I felt like this was her fault. I became very emotionally unbalanced, and I was angry at everyone. I tried really hard to fit in, but I didn't. I felt alone and abandoned, and it didn't help that my mom had decided she was going to open and manage a scrapbook store during the same year we moved.
By the time I started the sixth grade, I had known for a long time that I didn't have very many real friends. People played with you on the playground and some came to my birthday parties, but that was only because they felt obligated to. So in sixth grade, when I started band class, a whole new world kind of emerged for me. There were people that were as weird as I was, and they were okay with it. They liked making new friends, and they didn't mind hanging out with me. So, instead of trying to be myself and keep my morals, I tried to become more like them. I wanted to make sure that they liked me and accepted me as a part of their group. I ended up being a two-faced hypocrite by the second half of the year, because I would act just like they did.
During those first two or three years after we moved, my family just sort of stopped going to church. It was obvious to all of us that we had serious problems, and most of them stemmed from me. The same year I started sixth grade, my parents found a church they wanted to start attending. So during middle school I would go with them only because I had to. I didn't want to go to church anymore. I didn't care about that anymore. I let go of almost everything that set me apart from the rest of my friends: my morals. While I didn't sneak out and go to parties, and I kept a resolution that I would never drink, smoke, or do drugs, I was an extremely disrespectful kid. I didn't care about rules, I did what I wanted, said what I wanted, and wore what I wanted at school. While I was still a "good kid" in the eyes of teachers and some of my friends, I felt that I was not. I liked that. I liked the attention I got when I cussed when the teacher couldn't hear, when I only wore tank-tops under my jacket, when I cheated for someone. I thought that I was fine. When I was at home, I was extremely disrespectful, I lied to my parents, we argued all the time, and I openly told them that I hated them almost weekly. Before I started eighth grade, my parents sat me down and told me that if I didn't get my act together and start behaving they were going to pull my out of public school. They said I had until Christmas to prove myself, but I didn't even last that long. Four weeks into the school year, my dad and I had a (semi) physical fight and they drew the line. Five weeks later, they pulled me out and started homeschooling me.
There was an almost instant change in my attitude. Not because it woke me up that they were serious, but because my parents did what God told them to and pulled me away from the bad influences. Honestly, that was the best decision they ever made concerning me. I am so thankful now that they did, because I don't even want to think about where I would be if they hadn't. The sudden change of environment, though beneficial, was not easy to get acclimated to. I had a very hard time adjusting, and I would get bored easily. During middle school, our new church had gone through a lot of changes, including an almost completely replaced ministerial staff. We got a new pastor when I was in sixth grade, and he brought his family of four kids. Their oldest daughter, who is a year younger than me, was a friend of mine, and helped me tremendously through the transition from public to home school. She was one of the any supporters I had during this hard year. Looking back, I think the '08-'09 school year was probably my hardest year spiritually. While there wasn't as much disrespectful behavior as previous years, there was still a fair amount of fighting, not only with my parents but with God. I remember that year's camp so vividly. There were lots of angry tears shed as God broke down all of the layers I had built around my heart.
I look back on the past five years, and I see what a change God has made in my life. I went from being a disrespectful rebellious child on the path headed to destruction, and through his everlasting grace and mercy I am striving to become a godly young woman and be all that God intended for me to be. Every year, I have noticed an overall change for the better, and I can't wait to see what God does to me and through me this year. I never imagined I would be preparing for a mission trip at this age. I just turned 18, and I just graduated. But God opened a door, beckoned me to it, and said, "I want you to go." And go I shall.
Thankful for mercy,
Emily E.
My parents were already Christians when I was born, and they were also very involved in a church. I grew up in that church. My earliest memory is of me standing in the front parking lot of the church, watching the Vacation Bible School kick-off. Like I said my parents were very involved in the church. My dad was a deacon, my mom was the vacation bible school director and a preschool teacher at the adjacent private school, and together they taught marriage enrichment classes. I attended the private school that my mom taught at, which was also held in the classrooms of the church. Since I was almost literally at the church every day, I knew a lot about the Bible and about Jesus. I knew the gospel, and I knew the worship songs. I was surrounded by the culture of the church. When I was six years old, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord. I started reading my Bible outside of church and learning about what Jesus called us to do.
When I was seven, the private school shut down. My parents were determined to make sure that I grew up in a stimulating, healthy environment, and they did thorough research on the elementary schools in our area. While there were several that were promising for my intellectual and mental growth, they weren't so much for my spiritual growth. A friend of ours told us they were moving out to a different county that had an excellent school system. Though it was a public school, my parents saw that it was a Christian community and it seemed like a good place to move. So we did.
For me, as a seven year old who was sheltered and lived five minutes away from the only other place I went on a regular basis, moving was a foreign concept to me. Though my parents explained it and made sure I understood what was happening, it didn't really make since to me. I became very upset with my family, especially my mom, because for some reason I felt like this was her fault. I became very emotionally unbalanced, and I was angry at everyone. I tried really hard to fit in, but I didn't. I felt alone and abandoned, and it didn't help that my mom had decided she was going to open and manage a scrapbook store during the same year we moved.
By the time I started the sixth grade, I had known for a long time that I didn't have very many real friends. People played with you on the playground and some came to my birthday parties, but that was only because they felt obligated to. So in sixth grade, when I started band class, a whole new world kind of emerged for me. There were people that were as weird as I was, and they were okay with it. They liked making new friends, and they didn't mind hanging out with me. So, instead of trying to be myself and keep my morals, I tried to become more like them. I wanted to make sure that they liked me and accepted me as a part of their group. I ended up being a two-faced hypocrite by the second half of the year, because I would act just like they did.
During those first two or three years after we moved, my family just sort of stopped going to church. It was obvious to all of us that we had serious problems, and most of them stemmed from me. The same year I started sixth grade, my parents found a church they wanted to start attending. So during middle school I would go with them only because I had to. I didn't want to go to church anymore. I didn't care about that anymore. I let go of almost everything that set me apart from the rest of my friends: my morals. While I didn't sneak out and go to parties, and I kept a resolution that I would never drink, smoke, or do drugs, I was an extremely disrespectful kid. I didn't care about rules, I did what I wanted, said what I wanted, and wore what I wanted at school. While I was still a "good kid" in the eyes of teachers and some of my friends, I felt that I was not. I liked that. I liked the attention I got when I cussed when the teacher couldn't hear, when I only wore tank-tops under my jacket, when I cheated for someone. I thought that I was fine. When I was at home, I was extremely disrespectful, I lied to my parents, we argued all the time, and I openly told them that I hated them almost weekly. Before I started eighth grade, my parents sat me down and told me that if I didn't get my act together and start behaving they were going to pull my out of public school. They said I had until Christmas to prove myself, but I didn't even last that long. Four weeks into the school year, my dad and I had a (semi) physical fight and they drew the line. Five weeks later, they pulled me out and started homeschooling me.
There was an almost instant change in my attitude. Not because it woke me up that they were serious, but because my parents did what God told them to and pulled me away from the bad influences. Honestly, that was the best decision they ever made concerning me. I am so thankful now that they did, because I don't even want to think about where I would be if they hadn't. The sudden change of environment, though beneficial, was not easy to get acclimated to. I had a very hard time adjusting, and I would get bored easily. During middle school, our new church had gone through a lot of changes, including an almost completely replaced ministerial staff. We got a new pastor when I was in sixth grade, and he brought his family of four kids. Their oldest daughter, who is a year younger than me, was a friend of mine, and helped me tremendously through the transition from public to home school. She was one of the any supporters I had during this hard year. Looking back, I think the '08-'09 school year was probably my hardest year spiritually. While there wasn't as much disrespectful behavior as previous years, there was still a fair amount of fighting, not only with my parents but with God. I remember that year's camp so vividly. There were lots of angry tears shed as God broke down all of the layers I had built around my heart.
I look back on the past five years, and I see what a change God has made in my life. I went from being a disrespectful rebellious child on the path headed to destruction, and through his everlasting grace and mercy I am striving to become a godly young woman and be all that God intended for me to be. Every year, I have noticed an overall change for the better, and I can't wait to see what God does to me and through me this year. I never imagined I would be preparing for a mission trip at this age. I just turned 18, and I just graduated. But God opened a door, beckoned me to it, and said, "I want you to go." And go I shall.
Thankful for mercy,
Emily E.
No comments:
Post a Comment