I received this wonderful testimony from a young woman in our Bible study group who has suffered from "cutting" and other destructive behavior inflicted on her by the hand of the enemy. Please share this with any other young woman or man who you know is suffering from this problem. There is healing and deliverance in Jesus Christ!
Life is Not Easy
Life is not easy, and as humans we often complicate it for ourselves. We search for material or otherwise superficial things to fill that God-sized hole our in hearts. Because of that we find ourselves in really difficult and often dangerous situations. We use drugs, alcohol, sex, money, people, you name it, to fill that hole. Using things or people other than God to fill that hole is problematic enough, but the real issues start when our God-substitute falls short.
In the grand scheme of things my God-substitutes were considerably mild. Praise God that I never got into drinking, drugs, or sex. But I was guilty of using self-mutilation and disordered eating to cope. For years I restricted my food intake, and/or purged my food. At my worst I was purging 7 or 8 times a day. I was a fairly serious self-mutilator also. I cut my arms with knives and box cutters. When that stopped working I burned them with hot water or my curling iron. In the short run I felt better. In the long run I slowly but surely increasing the size of the hole I was trying to fill.
As I got older and matured quite a bit I was able to significantly reduce my dependence on my self sabotaging behaviors and thoughts of suicide. For months or weeks at a time I didn’t engage in any at all, but if things got tough I always held onto a box cutter and small bottle of ipecac and whatever supply of medications I had on hand. Even when life was going well I could never let go of my “stash.” It was my crutch. When things went south I always reminded myself of where I could find whatever I needed and it brought me peace.
As God is becoming a bigger and bigger part of my life I’m starting to see that there isn’t room for both God and self-harming in the same hole. They just can’t coexist. I played with the proportions of each (God and self-harming) to see if I could make them both fit. I promised not to use all of the medications I’d been hoarding but I refused to throw them away. I knew better than to cut myself, but I always needed to have a box cutter. It felt very incongruent to have declared Jesus as my savior but still be harboring thoughts and ideations that were so obviously not of Him.
After a lot of prayer and a few serious conversations, I finally flushed all of the hoarded pills. I didn’t want to, I felt like I needed them. I felt like I was throwing away some kind of tool that would get me through an awful situation. But I also knew that my biggest tool lived in my heart, my Lord and Savior, and it was time to let turn to Him for help, and not to self harming or suicidal thoughts.
It is harder than it sounds. It would be like living your whole life washing and drying all of your clothes by hand. Then you finally get a washer and dryer and you don’t know how to use them. You know it can help you, but you have no clue which buttons to push to get your desired result. I know Jesus is in my corner, but I don’t know how to ask for His help.
When I flushed my collection of pills, it had been over 2 years since I had last cut myself. I knew I had a knife somewhere but didn’t know exactly where. I just knew it was around. And when things got difficult, thoughts of that knife and knowing that I could probably dig it up comforted me.
I was having a challenging day. I wasn’t motivated to do anything important which was really irritating me. I was angry at myself and for whatever reason everything was reminding me of my Dad that day, who had passed away exactly sixteen weeks and three days earlier. It was hard. I also had a painting in the works and was having trouble finishing it. It was so close to being done, but it was missing something and I was frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what that was.
I came across the knife, the only one I had left. I felt my heart leap. I spent the afternoon using the knife to remove a piece of canvas from a stretcher and pry the staples out. I also cut open bottles of paint and carefully trimmed some canvas. I was trying to justify keeping this knife. I was trying to prove that I needed it for things other than to hurt myself, even though that was the only reason I wanted to keep it. I couldn’t stop thinking about two of my friends though, and what they would think. And how would I tell them? Would they still love me like they claimed to? They would be so disappointed. And what would I think of myself, if I kept it? How on earth could I call myself a follower of Christ if I deliberately ignored Him?
At dinner with my grandparents my mood worsened. Being at my family’s restaurant reminded me of my Dad so much it tugged at my heart. There were two different times that I had to command myself not to let my tears fall. Sitting there holding them back I decided I needed to cut myself when I got home. I just did.
On the ride home I was thinking about my day and trying to figure out where things went so wrong. What had happened to bring on all of these feelings? I realized things had turned sharply downward when I found that knife and did not instantly get rid of it. That’s when everything got so much harder. My day wasn’t a picnic before that, but finding the knife and not tossing it drastically changed things. I knew I had to get rid of it, it had to go.
Running out of daylight, I tore up to my room and found the knife exactly where I left it on my bed. I tucked it in my pocket and set out walking. There was an abandoned lot on the edge of the woods on my street. I honestly did not know if I was going to toss the knife or not. The lot seemed farther away than I remembered, but when I finally got there I suddenly wished it had disappeared. I stood for a few minutes. Everything in me was telling me not to throw that knife, I needed it! There was a dialog going on in my head:
“You NEED this knife!”
“You do not need this knife, you have something so much better, you have God.”
“You have God but you don’t know how to let Him help you. Until you figure that out you need this knife.”
“You do not need this knife.”
I couldn’t take it anymore and raised my arm and threw it hard into the woods. When I heard it hit the ground I instantly regretted throwing it.
On the walk home I tried to work through my choice to toss the knife. Why didn’t I feel good about it? Wasn’t this a good thing? Why did I still feel so haunted by it?
The concept that people often have to do things that they don’t want to is introduced to us at young age. And regardless of whether it is the right thing to do, it may not always feel good.
The only comfort in those situations is that we are called to sacrifice things for ourselves for the greater good (our greater God). We are called to do things that we don’t always want to do. And even after it’s done it still doesn’t feel good. But, we have to walk it out in faith knowing that we will not always understand why God orchestrates things the way he does, and we are not question it either.
It is kind of like forgiving someone who has wronged you.
You might still be angry or hurt about the situation, but you are called to forgive. Your emotions may not match up right away, but you have to step out in faith knowing that your obedience will be blessed and having peace that you were obedient.
Maybe it goes without saying, but God loves each of us so much that He would never call us to a position or situation where we would be harmed. On the contrary, He will call us away from those situations and substitutes for His love to make room for the genuine love, His love, for us.
“Live as children of obedience to God; do not conform yourselves to the evil desires that governed you in your former ignorance when you did not know the requirements of the Gospel.” 1 Peter 1: 14
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Another Testimony
God has been working mightily in our bible study! We have been seeing great moves of the Holy Spirit, and two of our ladies have been baptized in the Spirit with the evidence of speaking in other tongues, just as in the Book of Acts! It is an exciting time to be a Christian. Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore!
The following is the testimony of one of these precious ladies who wanted to share her story with the world. What Jesus did in her life, He will do in yours, if you just ask. Ask and you shall receive!
Enjoy this testimony.
I look back on my life and know that I found Jesus when I was sixteen years old. Before the day that I found Jesus, He was someone who was so distant from me. He was in the church, down the street and far away. Jesus was in the bible stories that my daddy told me at the age of nine, far away and long ago. Jesus died on the cross and was gone, far away.
I am the first of three daughters. At six years old I was the person that my mom turned to in need of help. She and my father had a broken relationship, and I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I felt her need and grew up wanting to help. We were a very private family and did not tell anyone that we had problems, as they would think badly of us. Others looking at our family thought that we were the perfect family. We had it all. We were very good at pretending.
I had so many friends and was happy to be around them, but I couldn’t “tell my secrets of my broken home and my brokenness.” WHERE DO I TURN? I poured myself into being the best that I could be in sports. I played field hockey and was very good. I ran the hardest for the longest and played with shin splints in both legs, having to tape them before every game. I remember getting injured and stayed in the game bleeding. I was determined to “finish.” I lettered my sophomore year and received an MVP award—a large trophy. This same determination was there when I went out for the high school tennis team—I also lettered in my sophomore year and the same for softball. But THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH. After practice I would come home and go for a run and bike. I needed more.
I took on a waitressing job at the local ice cream restaurant and began earning money on a weekly basis. I was earning “tips” and a lot of them. Customers thought that I was good. I wanted to save my money and “Get Out” of my home life situation. I knew that there had to be SOMETHING BETTER.
My life was out of control and I didn’t know it. I began to purge. I was alone and lonely I needed something—I needed someone. I wanted to die. I really wanted to die, but I WANTED MORE.
I was caught and confronted by my sister and my mom. I was scared and they told me that this would hurt me—purging would hurt me. It would tear up my throat and cause everlasting problems.
At that moment I knew what I needed: I needed someone to hold me and love me, to be my father and my mother. I needed to tell someone—I needed to tell someone everything. The only one that I could think of was God. He wouldn’t tell anyone. I cried out in BROKENNESS and in NEED OF HELP and got on my knees and poured out my heart and prayed. I told Him everything, and He loved me. At that moment, I found my Savior. Jesus in the big white church was with me, BESIDE ME. Jesus in the bible stories was there HOLDING ME. Jesus who died on the cross so long ago was alive and WALKING this out with me.
It took sixteen years for me to find Jesus, but I did, and He is the love of my life. Thank you, Jesus, for coming into my life. Thank you for being my Lord and Savior. You have changed my life—it is so much better than I had ever dreamed because I know you. Praise your Holy name forever!
The following is the testimony of one of these precious ladies who wanted to share her story with the world. What Jesus did in her life, He will do in yours, if you just ask. Ask and you shall receive!
Enjoy this testimony.
I look back on my life and know that I found Jesus when I was sixteen years old. Before the day that I found Jesus, He was someone who was so distant from me. He was in the church, down the street and far away. Jesus was in the bible stories that my daddy told me at the age of nine, far away and long ago. Jesus died on the cross and was gone, far away.
I am the first of three daughters. At six years old I was the person that my mom turned to in need of help. She and my father had a broken relationship, and I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I felt her need and grew up wanting to help. We were a very private family and did not tell anyone that we had problems, as they would think badly of us. Others looking at our family thought that we were the perfect family. We had it all. We were very good at pretending.
I had so many friends and was happy to be around them, but I couldn’t “tell my secrets of my broken home and my brokenness.” WHERE DO I TURN? I poured myself into being the best that I could be in sports. I played field hockey and was very good. I ran the hardest for the longest and played with shin splints in both legs, having to tape them before every game. I remember getting injured and stayed in the game bleeding. I was determined to “finish.” I lettered my sophomore year and received an MVP award—a large trophy. This same determination was there when I went out for the high school tennis team—I also lettered in my sophomore year and the same for softball. But THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH. After practice I would come home and go for a run and bike. I needed more.
I took on a waitressing job at the local ice cream restaurant and began earning money on a weekly basis. I was earning “tips” and a lot of them. Customers thought that I was good. I wanted to save my money and “Get Out” of my home life situation. I knew that there had to be SOMETHING BETTER.
My life was out of control and I didn’t know it. I began to purge. I was alone and lonely I needed something—I needed someone. I wanted to die. I really wanted to die, but I WANTED MORE.
I was caught and confronted by my sister and my mom. I was scared and they told me that this would hurt me—purging would hurt me. It would tear up my throat and cause everlasting problems.
At that moment I knew what I needed: I needed someone to hold me and love me, to be my father and my mother. I needed to tell someone—I needed to tell someone everything. The only one that I could think of was God. He wouldn’t tell anyone. I cried out in BROKENNESS and in NEED OF HELP and got on my knees and poured out my heart and prayed. I told Him everything, and He loved me. At that moment, I found my Savior. Jesus in the big white church was with me, BESIDE ME. Jesus in the bible stories was there HOLDING ME. Jesus who died on the cross so long ago was alive and WALKING this out with me.
It took sixteen years for me to find Jesus, but I did, and He is the love of my life. Thank you, Jesus, for coming into my life. Thank you for being my Lord and Savior. You have changed my life—it is so much better than I had ever dreamed because I know you. Praise your Holy name forever!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Is Jesus Still a Man?
Recently I asked my bible study group if Jesus is still a man. The looks I saw on their faces were very interesting—no one wanted to answer, because they weren’t quite sure. Is He still a man, sitting at the right hand of God the Father Almighty in the heavenlies as the Bible says, or is He part man/part spirit like some kind of ethereal ghost that one can see through or wave one’s hand across? Good question.
Before I ever opened the Bible, I would have told you emphatically that He was spirit-like and invisible like God and that his days of being a man were limited to 33 years on earth. And I would have argued that He isn’t really alive like we are alive—He only exists, kind of like a floating fog that drifts around in heaven. I certainly didn’t believe He had thoughts or spoke or was involved in my life at all. He was really limited to the lifeless paintings of a thin, frail, blue-eyed Caucasian man in need of a good haircut who died years ago but was somehow resurrected from the dead. Is this what you believe? That Jesus is a historical figure of a man whose existence is limited to the past? If so, then you are a victim of religious teaching just as I was.
If you read my testimony, you’ll remember the first revelation I received from the Holy Spirit is that God is real and Jesus is still alive. But it wasn’t until I opened the Bible and began to study Scripture that I came to know He is still a man—a God-man, but still a man. And guess what? He’s coming back—as a man! And all of us need to get ready.
For some reason this truth about Jesus being alive as a man in the Godhead makes people furious. Just look at the Gospel accounts of the reaction of the Jewish leaders and you will see this same reaction exists today, even among Gentiles and some professing Christians! “This can’t be right,” they say. “The Messiah/Son of God is more than a man.” True, in that He is the Word made flesh, He was with God in the beginning, and He is God, according to John 1:1-14. They reason that “men are sinners and ungodly and that the Messiah/Son of God wasn’t a sinner.” True again. “Therefore,” they continue, “He must be some special hybrid of God and man.” Yes, he was special in that He was conceived by the Holy Spirit of God as Luke 1:35 reveals—but He was still born a man, lived as a man, and died as a man.
When He was resurrected and appeared to the disciples, they were fearful, thinking He was a spirit or ghost—just like I thought all those years. “A spirit has not flesh and bones as you see I have,” he said in Luke 24:39. (His blood had been poured out onto the mercy seat in the heavenly temple—more on that later). Thomas was instructed to stick his fingers into the holes in his hands and side, to stop doubting and believe. Then He sat down with them and ate some fish and honeycomb. Does a ghost or spirit eat fish and honeycomb? Oh, and He also prepared grilled fish for the disciples along the shores of Galilee and presumably ate with them there.
He ascended into heaven as a man as well. In Acts 1:11, as the disciples marveled at his departure, angels instructed them that this same Jesus would return in like manner. Revelation 19:11 tells us He will be riding a white horse with a sword coming out of his mouth which He will use to smite the nations. Talk about a prince riding on a white horse!
The truth is that He came to earth as a man (born without sin) so that He can have a relationship with you, a man (born in sin, but with the opportunity to be born again as a child of God). Imagine – having a personal relationship with the God-man in the heavenlies! It’s available to you if you just ask and believe. Ask God to reveal Himself to you as He has revealed Himself to me and so many others. Believe Jesus is still alive as a man in the heavenlies and wants you to know Him personally as you are fully known by Him. He’s in love with you! Isn’t that cool?
It isn’t complicated like religion says. Praise God He has made it so simple!
Before I ever opened the Bible, I would have told you emphatically that He was spirit-like and invisible like God and that his days of being a man were limited to 33 years on earth. And I would have argued that He isn’t really alive like we are alive—He only exists, kind of like a floating fog that drifts around in heaven. I certainly didn’t believe He had thoughts or spoke or was involved in my life at all. He was really limited to the lifeless paintings of a thin, frail, blue-eyed Caucasian man in need of a good haircut who died years ago but was somehow resurrected from the dead. Is this what you believe? That Jesus is a historical figure of a man whose existence is limited to the past? If so, then you are a victim of religious teaching just as I was.
If you read my testimony, you’ll remember the first revelation I received from the Holy Spirit is that God is real and Jesus is still alive. But it wasn’t until I opened the Bible and began to study Scripture that I came to know He is still a man—a God-man, but still a man. And guess what? He’s coming back—as a man! And all of us need to get ready.
For some reason this truth about Jesus being alive as a man in the Godhead makes people furious. Just look at the Gospel accounts of the reaction of the Jewish leaders and you will see this same reaction exists today, even among Gentiles and some professing Christians! “This can’t be right,” they say. “The Messiah/Son of God is more than a man.” True, in that He is the Word made flesh, He was with God in the beginning, and He is God, according to John 1:1-14. They reason that “men are sinners and ungodly and that the Messiah/Son of God wasn’t a sinner.” True again. “Therefore,” they continue, “He must be some special hybrid of God and man.” Yes, he was special in that He was conceived by the Holy Spirit of God as Luke 1:35 reveals—but He was still born a man, lived as a man, and died as a man.
When He was resurrected and appeared to the disciples, they were fearful, thinking He was a spirit or ghost—just like I thought all those years. “A spirit has not flesh and bones as you see I have,” he said in Luke 24:39. (His blood had been poured out onto the mercy seat in the heavenly temple—more on that later). Thomas was instructed to stick his fingers into the holes in his hands and side, to stop doubting and believe. Then He sat down with them and ate some fish and honeycomb. Does a ghost or spirit eat fish and honeycomb? Oh, and He also prepared grilled fish for the disciples along the shores of Galilee and presumably ate with them there.
He ascended into heaven as a man as well. In Acts 1:11, as the disciples marveled at his departure, angels instructed them that this same Jesus would return in like manner. Revelation 19:11 tells us He will be riding a white horse with a sword coming out of his mouth which He will use to smite the nations. Talk about a prince riding on a white horse!
The truth is that He came to earth as a man (born without sin) so that He can have a relationship with you, a man (born in sin, but with the opportunity to be born again as a child of God). Imagine – having a personal relationship with the God-man in the heavenlies! It’s available to you if you just ask and believe. Ask God to reveal Himself to you as He has revealed Himself to me and so many others. Believe Jesus is still alive as a man in the heavenlies and wants you to know Him personally as you are fully known by Him. He’s in love with you! Isn’t that cool?
It isn’t complicated like religion says. Praise God He has made it so simple!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Precious, the Movie
I know this is a bible study blog, but I wanted to share a review I wrote on a powerful movie I saw with several sisters in Christ last night, Precious. It deals with incest and child sexual abuse--a horrible, unthinkable sin, that makes many in the church turn away with shame and embarrassment, arguing that it isn't really real. Oh yeah? Statistics prove otherwise and I personally know many women who have survived this abuse. The good news is that the power of Jesus Christ sets us free from the captivity of all sin, including this particularly insidious one. If you are brave enough, go see the movie, which is sure to capture several Oscar awards. If not, read the review and maybe wait for the DVD. In any event, don't turn away from the yoke-destroying, burden-removing power of Jesus!
Precious
Set in the year 1987, Precious tells the powerful tale of an obese, illiterate, 16-year-old African American girl named Claireece "Precious" Jones who lives in a constant state of horrific mental and emotional abuse from her mother (wonderfully played by Mo’Nique). Based on the novel Push, by Sapphire, the story opens with Precious living in a Section 8 apartment in Harlem, having been raped and impregnated for the second time by her father. When the junior high where she is attending discovers her situation, she is removed to an alternative school taught by the nurturing and encouraging Ms. Blue Rain. Despite her mother’s insistence that she is “stupid, dumb, no good and ‘ought a get on welfare,’” Precious finally finds the love she needs from Ms. Rain and her fellow classmates and begins to have hope for a better life.
This is not a film I would recommend to any person, Christian or nonbeliever alike, who is looking for an hour and forty-seven minutes of Hollywood entertainment. The story is raw, violent in language and deed, gut-wrenching, and the images stay in the mind for days to come, hence the R rating. However, it deals with an important issue that plagues many young girls (and boys, as the statistic reveal) and affects the lives of every member of the victim’s family—from the abusive parent, to the complacent parent, to the offspring born from this sin, to the grandparents who look on and silently turn the other way. It is a heavy dose of reality that opened the eyes of this middle class, wonder-bread eatin', Brady-Bunch-lovin’ reviewer who had absolutely no clue that the horrors of this sin even existed, other than in the mind of some twisted, perverted novelist/screenwriter.
Fortunately for me, I was privileged to attend the movie with two incest survivors who attested to the story’s authenticity and power. One felt that she had been violated all over again, and both admitted that it drug up deep memories from the past. But there were mixed emotions as to whether sexual abuse survivors should even see this movie. I can’t begin to answer that, but I do know that it opened a door of truth that had been closed to me. Who then should see it, I asked myself? It has made $50 million at the box office so far and is the toast of the Hollywood awards galas, so obviously there are enough people in the world who consider it worthy to be seen—and one cannot argue that it hasn’t touched a nerve in our society. My answer would be this: any member of the body of Christ who has love and compassion for hurting people in this world, and who desires to help set those people free through the blood and power of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, should make it a point to see this movie.
All that being said, there were some uplifting, lighter moments in the film that actually made me laugh, even if I felt guilty doing so. There was a rally of nice banter between Precious and her schoolmates, as well as Nurse John (played by Lenny Kravitz sans sunglasses)—never mind some of the expletives. Also, there were several tender moments between Precious and Ms. Rain and then Precious and her newborn baby, Abdul. I also liked the way Precious’s imaginative mind was lived out through fantasies of she and her mom starring in an overly-dramatic black and white Italian film, of her Caucasian male math teacher speaking words of love from a photo album picture, and of Precious as a glamorous pop star with gorgeous men fawning all over her. But the funniest, and yet most heart-wrenching, was when Precious looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful, thin, blonde white girl staring back, wearing an innocent expression and no sense of shame.
Despite the grit and horror, the one scene that is burned most vividly in my consciousness is a poignant portrayal of the established church who claims to be a safe haven for girls like Precious. There she stood in the New York cold with her three-day-old baby in her arms, no place to run or hide, peering through the narrow cross-shaped door windows of the Thy Will Be Done church, wanting more than anything to enter, but not daring. Inside were men and women in blue robes, singing with joy to the Lord, oblivious to the hurting girl standing on the other side. Why didn’t she press her face against the glass or even tap gently against the closed doors? Could it be that she knew no one would answer? Could it be that she knew the singing would continue without a single blip or interruption? Sound familiar, anyone?
Go see Precious, but don’t go to feel sorry for the victims of this crime—go so that you may have eyes to see the “precious ones” in your sphere of influence who need to know about the One who died and rose again to set him or her free. For where sin abounds, the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ does that much more abound! Hallelujah and Amen to that!
Precious
Set in the year 1987, Precious tells the powerful tale of an obese, illiterate, 16-year-old African American girl named Claireece "Precious" Jones who lives in a constant state of horrific mental and emotional abuse from her mother (wonderfully played by Mo’Nique). Based on the novel Push, by Sapphire, the story opens with Precious living in a Section 8 apartment in Harlem, having been raped and impregnated for the second time by her father. When the junior high where she is attending discovers her situation, she is removed to an alternative school taught by the nurturing and encouraging Ms. Blue Rain. Despite her mother’s insistence that she is “stupid, dumb, no good and ‘ought a get on welfare,’” Precious finally finds the love she needs from Ms. Rain and her fellow classmates and begins to have hope for a better life.
This is not a film I would recommend to any person, Christian or nonbeliever alike, who is looking for an hour and forty-seven minutes of Hollywood entertainment. The story is raw, violent in language and deed, gut-wrenching, and the images stay in the mind for days to come, hence the R rating. However, it deals with an important issue that plagues many young girls (and boys, as the statistic reveal) and affects the lives of every member of the victim’s family—from the abusive parent, to the complacent parent, to the offspring born from this sin, to the grandparents who look on and silently turn the other way. It is a heavy dose of reality that opened the eyes of this middle class, wonder-bread eatin', Brady-Bunch-lovin’ reviewer who had absolutely no clue that the horrors of this sin even existed, other than in the mind of some twisted, perverted novelist/screenwriter.
Fortunately for me, I was privileged to attend the movie with two incest survivors who attested to the story’s authenticity and power. One felt that she had been violated all over again, and both admitted that it drug up deep memories from the past. But there were mixed emotions as to whether sexual abuse survivors should even see this movie. I can’t begin to answer that, but I do know that it opened a door of truth that had been closed to me. Who then should see it, I asked myself? It has made $50 million at the box office so far and is the toast of the Hollywood awards galas, so obviously there are enough people in the world who consider it worthy to be seen—and one cannot argue that it hasn’t touched a nerve in our society. My answer would be this: any member of the body of Christ who has love and compassion for hurting people in this world, and who desires to help set those people free through the blood and power of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, should make it a point to see this movie.
All that being said, there were some uplifting, lighter moments in the film that actually made me laugh, even if I felt guilty doing so. There was a rally of nice banter between Precious and her schoolmates, as well as Nurse John (played by Lenny Kravitz sans sunglasses)—never mind some of the expletives. Also, there were several tender moments between Precious and Ms. Rain and then Precious and her newborn baby, Abdul. I also liked the way Precious’s imaginative mind was lived out through fantasies of she and her mom starring in an overly-dramatic black and white Italian film, of her Caucasian male math teacher speaking words of love from a photo album picture, and of Precious as a glamorous pop star with gorgeous men fawning all over her. But the funniest, and yet most heart-wrenching, was when Precious looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful, thin, blonde white girl staring back, wearing an innocent expression and no sense of shame.
Despite the grit and horror, the one scene that is burned most vividly in my consciousness is a poignant portrayal of the established church who claims to be a safe haven for girls like Precious. There she stood in the New York cold with her three-day-old baby in her arms, no place to run or hide, peering through the narrow cross-shaped door windows of the Thy Will Be Done church, wanting more than anything to enter, but not daring. Inside were men and women in blue robes, singing with joy to the Lord, oblivious to the hurting girl standing on the other side. Why didn’t she press her face against the glass or even tap gently against the closed doors? Could it be that she knew no one would answer? Could it be that she knew the singing would continue without a single blip or interruption? Sound familiar, anyone?
Go see Precious, but don’t go to feel sorry for the victims of this crime—go so that you may have eyes to see the “precious ones” in your sphere of influence who need to know about the One who died and rose again to set him or her free. For where sin abounds, the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ does that much more abound! Hallelujah and Amen to that!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
My Testimony
Steeped in Religion.
I grew up in a small, southern town in the 70s, attending a small, denominational church most every Sunday - there were days that we slept in, but for the most part, we were faithful attendees. My father was a church leader, my mom served on the altar guild, and I was a dutiful acolyte. I remember going to Sunday school as a little girl, but never once recall opening the Bible until I was a junior in high school - a fact that was a source of embarrassment to me for many years. In fact, I didn't attend my first Bible study until I met my husband in my late 20s - we studied the book of Ruth and I was appalled that I had never even heard of Ruth! By that point, I would have gone to my grave confessing that I was a Christian, but it was purely an intellectual acknowledgement that Jesus was God's Son, died on a cross for my sins, and was resurrected - nothing more. I did not have a trusting belief or faith in Him as my savior from sin, hell, and the grave, and had no acknowledgement of the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. I didn't even know that was an option! I guess you could say I was well indoctrinated in religion, but was biblically illiterate and totally ignorant when it came to the real power of being a disciple of Jesus and living in accordance with God's Word.
Doubt and the Gnawing Question.
Religion was a bore to me, something I had to endure every Sunday morning until about lunchtime when we would eat a huge meal and nap for several hours. And yet, there was always something gnawing on the inside of me, wondering why everyone put up with this tedious boredom, week after week, year after year, when it clearly had no impact on anyone's life, including the pastor's. No one's relationships improved due to church, no one was healed from sickness and disease, no one was delivered from calamity, etc., no real answers to life's problems were given, and still the gnawing continued. Was there something we were missing? Was there something more? Was God really real?
God uses a Ouija Board.
It wasn't until a relative of mine brought home a Ouija board one Christmas, that I got an answer to that question. (Caution - I do not condone the use of the Ouija board or occult paraphernalia by anyone! They are an abomination to God, extremely dangerous and should be removed from your home immediately!) Who would've thought that a piece of cardboard and a plastic dial made by Parker Brothers could be used by God? But it was. At that time, I had no real belief in the spiritual world, other than a cautious acknowledgement that it might exist and I best not mess with it. Ghost stories, horror movies, and half-baked seances at summer camp were about as far as I had gone in this area. But this time, I saw something supernatural with my own eyes that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was evil and of the devil - and I didn't even believe in the devil! Nevertheless, my intellect accepted what I had seen, logic took over, and a still, small voice spoke this in my mind - The devil is real . . . and if the devil is real, then God must be real too! And indeed He is!
Doubt and the Gnawing Questions Continue.
Of course a one time experience with the Ouija board wasn't enough to convert my soul and get me into a church on a regular basis - but marriage and three kids was. Being a good, southern "Christian girl," I had to make sure my children where indoctrinated into the boredom of religion, lest they miss out on all that I was exposed to, including the empty trappings of Christmas and Easter - I mean, where else could my little girls wear their frilly dresses and shiny, patent-leather Mary Janes, other than church?
I was in my mid-thirties now, had concluded a quasi-successful career as a corporate attorney in Chicago, was now living a posh expatriate life in London with a husband and three wonderful kids - and I was miserable. I realized I had no true purpose in living. Was it all about diapers, baby bottles, parties, exercising and staying slim after giving birth three times within three years? Waves of panic would rush over me as I drove the carpool or made my way to Safeway for a weekly grocery run - would I die and go to heaven and only have this to show for it? I had no idea that I had fallen smack, dab into the middle of a sure-fire mid-life crisis.
A Temporary Fix.
Writing was my answer, and I quickly embarked on the task of becoming a successful screenwriter, taking every class that I could find at the University of London. I got into a writer's group and made some wonderful friends who resurrected my shallow social life and filled my need for intellectual, stimulating conversation. I coupled this with frequent trips to the London theater, and found that a new-found hope chased the fears away. Perhaps I would become a famous writer, win awards and accolades from my peers, and then I could say my life had meaning. Some days I acutally believed this to be true - it would happen, it would! - and then other days, the fear would come back, pounding on my heart, warning me that it was all a dream.
God Answers.
I was desperate. I blamed my husband for my unhappiness, I blamed my friends, our house wasn't nice enough, we didn't make enough money, etc. . . . nothing was ever good enough or rich enough or thin enough. Nothing was perfect, and perfection was my desire. Of course, I didn't miss a Sunday at church with my sweet children dressed in their Laura Ashley clothes and matching hats and shoes. I loved the pastor and his wife and I know they were praying for me, but it was all just a huge bore - every bit of it - the sermons, the hymns, the formality of the service.
I will never forget one Sunday morning I was feeling especially sorry for myself, mulling over all the imperfections in my mind (mostly regarding my sweet husband - praise God he has forgiven me!) and I got a revelation, like I stepped out of my body for a moment and looked around at everyone with heads bowed singing another dull hymn. I had had it! I had reached my limit! "Why are these people here?" I asked. "Why aren't they sipping coffee and reading the paper, or sleeping in under a comfy quilt? What is it they know that I don't?" Looking up at the huge cross on the wall, I cried out in my spirit with tears flooding my eyes - THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMETHING MORE THAN THIS, GOD! THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMETHING MORE!
God had me right where He needed me, right where He had been wanting me to come all this time - so He could reveal Himself. I had come to the end of me and my way of doing things and I had cried out for Him to manifest Himself in my life. And He did!
ALPHA.
Within a week, I had signed up for my first in depth bible study class that promised to change my life. God knew I needed changes more than anyone, so I didn't hesitate a moment to put my name on the list. The class was entitled ALPHA, and was a video/workbook taught by Nicky Gumble out of Holy Trinity Brompton in London, England. Basically, it was a three month Christian boot camp where religion is purged out and the basic tenets of the faith are introduced - a crash course on all the things I should've learned years ago. My pastor and his sweet wife hosted the study in their home and indulged every single doubt-filled, skeptical, liberal-minded question my agnostic, heathen brain could ask - and they did it with love. But despite all of my doubts and questionings, I found that I loved it - I was like a sponge, soaking in every word coming from the teaching, wanting more - actually looking forward to the next week's study. No one had ever explained Jesus, God, and the Bible to me in such a simple, straightforward, clear way before. I was amazed at how the scales were falling away from my spiritual eyes, and I was beginning to see that "something more" I had asked God for.
An Introduction to the Holy Spirit.
At the end of our three month study, we were invited to a one day retreat, called a Holy Spirit Day Away. I had no idea what I was in for, as I had no idea who or what the Holy Spirit was. Wasn't that just something we recited in church all of those years? But I came with an open heart and mind, and God did not disappoint. A precious, fiery British lady led the class - she had been a nonbeliever who was miraculously saved from a fatal car accident. Her leg had been badly crushed, but she felt no pain while trapped in the car, due to what she described as "warm arms of love" wrapped around her. The doctors told her she would never walk again, but a group of Christians laid hands on her leg in the hospital and she was miraculously healed, preaching the Gospel now all over England. What a lady she was! I'll never forget her. She taught us about the Holy Spirit indwelling the believer, filling up the spirit of man like the whoosh of a hot radiator, and baptizing with the power of God from on high.
After the teaching, she invited us to raise our hands and ask the Holy Spirit to come into us, filling us and baptize us. I had been weeping all during the teaching for some strange reason, and was open to whatever God wanted to do with me. I raised my hands up to the ceiling and closed my eyes, praying along with this precious lady, when something glorious happened.
An Electric Jolt.
I felt it - it started at the tip of my fingers and jolted down my arms like an electric current. Immediately, I put my arms down to my sides (I wish I hadn't!!) I was scared, but excited all the same! I had a flash of a vision in my mind, like a curtain being pulled away, revealing a world hidden behind it. There was Jesus sitting on His throne, and He was real. "This is real," I said to myself. "This is really real . . . and Jesus is alive!"
Here again, God was showing me supernatural manifestation that could not be denied. And I witnessed much, much more that day. It was just like the book of Acts in that room. People were prophesying and having visions, falling to the floor, praying in tongues like on the day of Pentecost - it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen! This kind of church wasn't boring at all - this was life! This was thrilling! This is the way it's supposed to be!
A Changed Life.
I couldn't stop smiling. I had a giggly excitement in my throat, and I couldn't wait to tell my husband all that had happened. Bless him, as he was a bit skeptical, but supportive (he is no longer a skeptic now!). But it wasn't skeptical to me - it was real. Now I couldn't wait for Sunday mornings - I wanted more than anything to get into Bible study. We were studying the book of James, and I devoured every word. I still had my questions, but they were probing and insightful, not doubting and questioning. I vowed to read the whole Bible, cover to cover and understand it! People noticed a change and commented. Several mature ladies in church told me they could see the Holy Spirit all over me. Praise God, I was a new person!
My writing changed over night. I no longer wanted to tell worldly, secular stories, but had a burning desire to write stories that glorified God and His Word. I knew Hollywood would not be receptive to what I was doing, but I wrote them anyway out of obedience. I took more writing classes, read books on the craft, and wrote one script after another, finally winning one of the coveted Kairos Awards for inspirational screenplays in 2008. Little did I know, but God was preparing me to write novels, and in 2009 I signed a 2 book deal with Thomas Nelson Publishing.
A Lasting Change.
I grew up in a small, southern town in the 70s, attending a small, denominational church most every Sunday - there were days that we slept in, but for the most part, we were faithful attendees. My father was a church leader, my mom served on the altar guild, and I was a dutiful acolyte. I remember going to Sunday school as a little girl, but never once recall opening the Bible until I was a junior in high school - a fact that was a source of embarrassment to me for many years. In fact, I didn't attend my first Bible study until I met my husband in my late 20s - we studied the book of Ruth and I was appalled that I had never even heard of Ruth! By that point, I would have gone to my grave confessing that I was a Christian, but it was purely an intellectual acknowledgement that Jesus was God's Son, died on a cross for my sins, and was resurrected - nothing more. I did not have a trusting belief or faith in Him as my savior from sin, hell, and the grave, and had no acknowledgement of the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. I didn't even know that was an option! I guess you could say I was well indoctrinated in religion, but was biblically illiterate and totally ignorant when it came to the real power of being a disciple of Jesus and living in accordance with God's Word.
Doubt and the Gnawing Question.
Religion was a bore to me, something I had to endure every Sunday morning until about lunchtime when we would eat a huge meal and nap for several hours. And yet, there was always something gnawing on the inside of me, wondering why everyone put up with this tedious boredom, week after week, year after year, when it clearly had no impact on anyone's life, including the pastor's. No one's relationships improved due to church, no one was healed from sickness and disease, no one was delivered from calamity, etc., no real answers to life's problems were given, and still the gnawing continued. Was there something we were missing? Was there something more? Was God really real?
God uses a Ouija Board.
It wasn't until a relative of mine brought home a Ouija board one Christmas, that I got an answer to that question. (Caution - I do not condone the use of the Ouija board or occult paraphernalia by anyone! They are an abomination to God, extremely dangerous and should be removed from your home immediately!) Who would've thought that a piece of cardboard and a plastic dial made by Parker Brothers could be used by God? But it was. At that time, I had no real belief in the spiritual world, other than a cautious acknowledgement that it might exist and I best not mess with it. Ghost stories, horror movies, and half-baked seances at summer camp were about as far as I had gone in this area. But this time, I saw something supernatural with my own eyes that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was evil and of the devil - and I didn't even believe in the devil! Nevertheless, my intellect accepted what I had seen, logic took over, and a still, small voice spoke this in my mind - The devil is real . . . and if the devil is real, then God must be real too! And indeed He is!
Doubt and the Gnawing Questions Continue.
Of course a one time experience with the Ouija board wasn't enough to convert my soul and get me into a church on a regular basis - but marriage and three kids was. Being a good, southern "Christian girl," I had to make sure my children where indoctrinated into the boredom of religion, lest they miss out on all that I was exposed to, including the empty trappings of Christmas and Easter - I mean, where else could my little girls wear their frilly dresses and shiny, patent-leather Mary Janes, other than church?
I was in my mid-thirties now, had concluded a quasi-successful career as a corporate attorney in Chicago, was now living a posh expatriate life in London with a husband and three wonderful kids - and I was miserable. I realized I had no true purpose in living. Was it all about diapers, baby bottles, parties, exercising and staying slim after giving birth three times within three years? Waves of panic would rush over me as I drove the carpool or made my way to Safeway for a weekly grocery run - would I die and go to heaven and only have this to show for it? I had no idea that I had fallen smack, dab into the middle of a sure-fire mid-life crisis.
A Temporary Fix.
Writing was my answer, and I quickly embarked on the task of becoming a successful screenwriter, taking every class that I could find at the University of London. I got into a writer's group and made some wonderful friends who resurrected my shallow social life and filled my need for intellectual, stimulating conversation. I coupled this with frequent trips to the London theater, and found that a new-found hope chased the fears away. Perhaps I would become a famous writer, win awards and accolades from my peers, and then I could say my life had meaning. Some days I acutally believed this to be true - it would happen, it would! - and then other days, the fear would come back, pounding on my heart, warning me that it was all a dream.
God Answers.
I was desperate. I blamed my husband for my unhappiness, I blamed my friends, our house wasn't nice enough, we didn't make enough money, etc. . . . nothing was ever good enough or rich enough or thin enough. Nothing was perfect, and perfection was my desire. Of course, I didn't miss a Sunday at church with my sweet children dressed in their Laura Ashley clothes and matching hats and shoes. I loved the pastor and his wife and I know they were praying for me, but it was all just a huge bore - every bit of it - the sermons, the hymns, the formality of the service.
I will never forget one Sunday morning I was feeling especially sorry for myself, mulling over all the imperfections in my mind (mostly regarding my sweet husband - praise God he has forgiven me!) and I got a revelation, like I stepped out of my body for a moment and looked around at everyone with heads bowed singing another dull hymn. I had had it! I had reached my limit! "Why are these people here?" I asked. "Why aren't they sipping coffee and reading the paper, or sleeping in under a comfy quilt? What is it they know that I don't?" Looking up at the huge cross on the wall, I cried out in my spirit with tears flooding my eyes - THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMETHING MORE THAN THIS, GOD! THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMETHING MORE!
God had me right where He needed me, right where He had been wanting me to come all this time - so He could reveal Himself. I had come to the end of me and my way of doing things and I had cried out for Him to manifest Himself in my life. And He did!
ALPHA.
Within a week, I had signed up for my first in depth bible study class that promised to change my life. God knew I needed changes more than anyone, so I didn't hesitate a moment to put my name on the list. The class was entitled ALPHA, and was a video/workbook taught by Nicky Gumble out of Holy Trinity Brompton in London, England. Basically, it was a three month Christian boot camp where religion is purged out and the basic tenets of the faith are introduced - a crash course on all the things I should've learned years ago. My pastor and his sweet wife hosted the study in their home and indulged every single doubt-filled, skeptical, liberal-minded question my agnostic, heathen brain could ask - and they did it with love. But despite all of my doubts and questionings, I found that I loved it - I was like a sponge, soaking in every word coming from the teaching, wanting more - actually looking forward to the next week's study. No one had ever explained Jesus, God, and the Bible to me in such a simple, straightforward, clear way before. I was amazed at how the scales were falling away from my spiritual eyes, and I was beginning to see that "something more" I had asked God for.
An Introduction to the Holy Spirit.
At the end of our three month study, we were invited to a one day retreat, called a Holy Spirit Day Away. I had no idea what I was in for, as I had no idea who or what the Holy Spirit was. Wasn't that just something we recited in church all of those years? But I came with an open heart and mind, and God did not disappoint. A precious, fiery British lady led the class - she had been a nonbeliever who was miraculously saved from a fatal car accident. Her leg had been badly crushed, but she felt no pain while trapped in the car, due to what she described as "warm arms of love" wrapped around her. The doctors told her she would never walk again, but a group of Christians laid hands on her leg in the hospital and she was miraculously healed, preaching the Gospel now all over England. What a lady she was! I'll never forget her. She taught us about the Holy Spirit indwelling the believer, filling up the spirit of man like the whoosh of a hot radiator, and baptizing with the power of God from on high.
After the teaching, she invited us to raise our hands and ask the Holy Spirit to come into us, filling us and baptize us. I had been weeping all during the teaching for some strange reason, and was open to whatever God wanted to do with me. I raised my hands up to the ceiling and closed my eyes, praying along with this precious lady, when something glorious happened.
An Electric Jolt.
I felt it - it started at the tip of my fingers and jolted down my arms like an electric current. Immediately, I put my arms down to my sides (I wish I hadn't!!) I was scared, but excited all the same! I had a flash of a vision in my mind, like a curtain being pulled away, revealing a world hidden behind it. There was Jesus sitting on His throne, and He was real. "This is real," I said to myself. "This is really real . . . and Jesus is alive!"
Here again, God was showing me supernatural manifestation that could not be denied. And I witnessed much, much more that day. It was just like the book of Acts in that room. People were prophesying and having visions, falling to the floor, praying in tongues like on the day of Pentecost - it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen! This kind of church wasn't boring at all - this was life! This was thrilling! This is the way it's supposed to be!
A Changed Life.
I couldn't stop smiling. I had a giggly excitement in my throat, and I couldn't wait to tell my husband all that had happened. Bless him, as he was a bit skeptical, but supportive (he is no longer a skeptic now!). But it wasn't skeptical to me - it was real. Now I couldn't wait for Sunday mornings - I wanted more than anything to get into Bible study. We were studying the book of James, and I devoured every word. I still had my questions, but they were probing and insightful, not doubting and questioning. I vowed to read the whole Bible, cover to cover and understand it! People noticed a change and commented. Several mature ladies in church told me they could see the Holy Spirit all over me. Praise God, I was a new person!
My writing changed over night. I no longer wanted to tell worldly, secular stories, but had a burning desire to write stories that glorified God and His Word. I knew Hollywood would not be receptive to what I was doing, but I wrote them anyway out of obedience. I took more writing classes, read books on the craft, and wrote one script after another, finally winning one of the coveted Kairos Awards for inspirational screenplays in 2008. Little did I know, but God was preparing me to write novels, and in 2009 I signed a 2 book deal with Thomas Nelson Publishing.
A Lasting Change.
I have taught bible study for over six years now in my home, and it is a privilege and honor. I love studying the Word, as it has changed my life in so many ways. I know my purpose now and the fear has no place in me. Faith has replaced it, and I am excited about all God is doing in and through me. I do not have perfection, but I have the Perfect One living inside of me! Praise God! That's good news, isn't it?
Does my testimony sound similar to yours? Come study with us, and you will find that God will do the same thing for you that He did for me. He will manifest Himself to you and show you that He is real - and He is!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)