Woah. �How'd this happen? �We have something OTHER than blue and black? �Yep, folks, I told you, it's all atmosphere. �And that's a little too dark for a message like this one.
It happened one night
About this page Please take it seriously. �I'd appreciate some respect, even from those of you who don't share my beliefs. �Dismiss it if you want to, but don't laugh at it, and don't flame me for it. �A lot of people have shared my journey, and for their privacy I've changed their names. �Using aliases like Grace, Hope, and Mercy may seem a little...stylized, I guess would be the word, but it's truly what they've meant to me. �This page is my personal testimony, my walk with God, and it also contains my views on some of the things I've heard said about Christians and some observations I've made along the way. �These are no more than observations and personal opinions, and it shouldn't be assumed that all Christians hold these views. �So if you see something you don't like, please keep in mind that each Christian has their own walk, and God's children are all individuals with minds of their own. �Please don't ever, ever blame all Christians for something one, two, or even many Christians have said or done. �We're still�only human.
My journey Where to start, where to start...well, I suppose the beginning would be a good place. �And for me, the beginning was somewhere between the ages of five and ten. Dad never went to Church with us, and at the time I was too little to understand why. �I envied him, really, because he got to stay home and sleep late and watch TV. �Yes, I was as lazy then as I am now. �Not that I didn't like Sunday School, it just seemed like so much work to get up early and get dressed up in a dress and ::shudder:: tights (to this day pantyhose remains my least favorite part of dressing up) and go. �As you can see, Church didn't have much meaning for me then. �I never once doubted at that stage that God existed, but I didn't really live in His presence, either. �The concept of the Holy Spirit had little or no meaning for me. �I was pretty much at the stage that most little kids are at that age--be good and do what God says, and you go to heaven. �I was a good little girl (most of the time) so I wasn't that worried. Grace lived across the street from me, two houses down. �Right next door to Todd. �She was the first one that really introduced me to what it meant to be saved. �She was the one that told me that being a good little girl wasn't good enough to get to heaven. �She asked her mother to come share her testimony with me, and at the time I thought it was a nice story. �I still didn't really understand what was going on. �Grace gave me some little pamphlets and booklets to read. �One of them had a little prayer in it. �It said all I had to do was say this little prayer that asked Jesus to come and be first in my heart, and I could go to heaven. �'Is that all? �I can do that.' �So I did, right then and there on the bus as we pulled up in front of the school. But I still didn't know what exactly I'd done. Grace was thrilled when I told her, and asked me when I was going to tell my mom. �I was kind of embarassed about the whole thing and didn't want to tell her at all. �I didn't understand why she needed to know. �Grace told her for me, much to my annoyance. �My mother blinked at me and asked me if I wanted to be baptized. �I shrugged and looked away and said I didn't much care. �We didn't speak about it again. We moved when I was ten--such is the way of a military family. �There�was a Luthran Church on Post, and we went to that off and on. �My dad�went with�us this time. �It didn't mean�that much to me. �I didn't like it as well as the Church we'd gone to before. �Eventually we just sort of stopped going. �We stayed a year before we moved again. My father was sent overseas, and my mother, brother, and I went to live with his mother for about six months because there weren't enough quarters for us yet. �I started sixth grade. �Most of the kids in that school had known each other for ages, so I was the new girl. �More than that, it�was a southern town, and I'd lost most of my accent while we were living farther north. �To them, I sounded like a Yankee, and they kept me at a distance. �It was a hard time for me, really, and we weren't going to Church at all during this period. �I think that's when the doubt started. It niggled in the back of my mind while we were in Germany, but I didn't pay much attention to it. �People there were used to having new kids come and go and I made friends quickly. �There was a chapel on Post�that we went to for Easter, but other than that, no Church. �Same when we moved back to the States, we lived with my aunt for a while and Church didn't even come up until we moved into our new house. By then, I wasn't really interested. �I protested�to the point of tears. �Church I didn't�mind so much, but I was really insecure about what I believed at�that point, and the�idea of going into Sunday school with the pathetically�low level of knowledge that I�had. �I have a deep fear of looking stupid in front of�other people and I was quite embarassed at how long it�took me to find even the right book to read the verse out of. �If it was anything other than Genesis,�Exodus, Mathew, Mark, Luke, or John, I didn't even know which Testament it was in. �My mother was quite upset at the resistance both my brother and I put up. �It was a crossroads and a dangerous time. I�first met Hope and Mercy my Freshman year in High School. �I didn't really know then�how important they'd be. �Mercy was a cheery girl that was always smiling, and Hope was a more mature type girl but still easy to get along with. Mercy and�I saw quite a bit of each other both that year and the next, even though we didn't have any classes together our sophmore year. �Hope and I had English together both years, and we ate lunch together with a freshman�boy Hope knew from Church. �As it turned out, Hope was the daughter of the�associate pastor from one of the local churches. �I told my mother about�this, and it was�the first time she'd heard me�express anything remotely resembling�enthusiasm about a Church in ages, so we started going to�Hope's�Church. �Compared to the other churches we'd been to it was m. Mercy had�been asking me a lot of questions about�what I believed, and it worried me when I realized that I couldn't answer most of them. �I took a good�look at where I was in the faith and realized�that I wasn't�even sure God existed anymore. �I didn't know. �I saw Hope every day and sat there talking to her and listening to her and just wondering at the way she never doubted at all that God existed--the possibility never even entered her mind. �I got so envious�of her. �I wanted to have that. �I remembered that certainty as�a child, and I wanted it back. And that was my biggest problem. �I wanted to believe so badly it hurt. �I was scared to death of not believing. �But faith�isn't�something that comes through the will. �You can't�reason with the heart. �So I did the only thing I�could do. �I prayed. �Hard. �I begged God to give me some sign that He was there. Life went on. �No burning bushes, no lighting flashes, no bright lights or out of body experiences. �Hope was scheduled�to be in the youth production and convinced me to go. �So I�went�with my mother. �It was a cute play, I liked�it. �My mind wandered, though, and I started thinking about�my whole crisis of faith and what I was going to do about it. �I thought fondly of Mercy and Hope�and my other�friends. �Then Hope�got up to do her solo and as I was sitting there listening I started to cry. �I suddenly realized that�God had sent me the sign I was looking for. �I just hadn't been able to see it before. It all came together as I was sitting there, and I felt the�Holy Spirit around me--and for once I knew what it was. �I'd felt that feeling before, most often when I was standing alone outside in�mid-spring or early fall, and felt�the wind blow a�particular way that gave me goosebumps and brought me an�incredible feeling of peace that I couldn't explain. �Now I recognized it as�God's presence. Hope, Mercy, and the other people that had come into my life at that time had brought just the right questions to my mind, and made me want to find the answers. �That was God's gift, His sign that He did care�about my journey�and�He did care that I made the right choice. �He gave me every opportunity�to make the right decision, and was ready�to�take me back even though I'd nearly disavowed his entire existance. God did love me. �He does love me. I�reaccepted Christ as my Savior. �It was a long time later�before I got the courage to do�anything�more than that, nearly two years before�I felt confident enough to take the next step. �I was baptized by immersion, just before my brother took the same steps,�in September the same day my mother and I became full members of the church. Faith still isn't easy for me and I don't think it ever will be. �There are days when I start to�question my faith. �But it's not�a journey�I'm taking alone, and no one expects me�to be�perfect. �As long as I do my best to improve, He's satisfied. �And even when I don't, He loves me.
My beliefs
Silence I'm a member of the Southern Baptist Convention. �I believe salvation comes�through faith alone. �You�can't earn your�way into heaven. �I believe�that as a Christian I have a responsibility to bear witness to others when God calls me to do so. �I also believe that�religion is a deeply personal journey and choice that can't be forced on anyone. �I believe that when God gave us the right to choose,�he knew we'd be wrong some of the time or maybe even most of the time. �I don't believe in persecuting others because they've made a choice�that I feel is wrong. �I do believe�that they should be held accountable for the consequences of their choices. �I believe that religious wars should not be blamed on religion, but on man who makes war. �I don't believe that I have all the answers. �I do believe that God does. I believe God chooses the right time for every heart and calls it. �I�believe that it's important to be open with my faith and let the light shine in me, so that when a heart near�me hears the call and starts wondering what's missing in their life, they know they can come to me. �I don't believe that faith can be forced on anyone. �
There's a cross to bridge the great divide
The cross that cost�my Lord his life --"The Great Divide" Point of Grace
What's the point in praying if you think that God knows everything anyway? �Doesn't that mean that he knows what you're going to ask him? Yes, it does mean that, but no, it doesn't negate the necessity of prayer. �I don't pray for God's sake, I pray for mine. �It's my time to commune with Him, to speak directly to Him. �Prayer isn't all asking. �It's thanksgiving, it's praise, it's confession. �God knows all of that, but I still need to say it. �I need time away from any distractions, away from the world, to be alone with�Him and remind myself how great He is, and how much He's given me, and so that I can lift up the cares of the world to Him. �It's my time to get to know Him better. Christian Arrogance So we think that our way is the only way. �Well, frankly, it is. �That may seem arrogant, that may seemed closed-minded, but it's the Truth. �We have�to believe that with all our hearts, we have to have faith that this is the only way, because that's the price of our Salvation. � The Great Commission
What's he gonna say about me? This�is without a doubt the scariest part of being a Christian. �We are commanded to bring our light into the world and share our stories with others. �I really have no right to be frightened. �I live in America, I can witness till I drop and the worst I have to worry about is being ridiculed. �There are places in the world where Christians are imprisoned, beaten, and killed for their sharing their beliefs. A lot of non-Christians I know have complained about their Christian friends being preachy. �Look at it from our view for a moment. �Think of the person you love most in the world. �Now imagine them suffering for all eternity. �If you had a chance to save them, wouldn't you try? �Wouldn't you do everything you could to help them? �Even if it meant you were constantly walking a fine line, measuring how far you could push before you offended them? �Every Christian wants to think their non-Christian friends can choose their own path to Heaven. �But there is only one path, through Jesus Christ. �Knowing that, how can we stay silent? �It's like watching someone you care about walk right off the edge of a cliff, and not making a sound to warn them. �I will not hide my faith, I will not be ashamed of it. �I want people around me to see God's love and grace in me, to see something in me that makes them think maybe these Christian people�have a point after all.
I�won't bend and I won't break
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