My testimony

I’ve mentioned my Christian revival a few times in other entries and how I came back to God while I was lying flat on my back. Seems to me like a good time for me to offer my testimony.

My mother made me go to the nearby church when I was little. Her belief was I learn about God but make up my own mind when I was older.

Valley Baptist Church was a Southern Baptist congregation. We would have Sunday school, then they would troop us into the big hall for the adult service. I remember trying to grasp the things Rev. Gage was saying, but not always succeeding. 

Every service would end with the doxology (Praise God from whom all blessings flow ...) and a call for anyone who wanted to accept Christ as their savior to walk up to the front of the church and meet with someone. A lot of times no one would walk up.

When I was about 10, I made the walk. I remember the hymn was “How Great Thou Art.” It seemed like time. I had absorbed lots of instruction, memorized a few verses. I believed in Jesus, the Old Testament, the 10 Commandments. 

I continued to go to church until I hit 13. Yep, puberty came between me and God.

Suddenly getting up early on Sunday seemed like a waste of a weekend. My mother said I was old enough to decide for myself whether I wanted to go to church or not and let me stay home.

I continued to pray every night. On occasion I’d dust off the Bible and read some Scripture. I thought of it as preventative maintenance; God would understand. He would know I was trying my best. And He would accept a half hearted faith over none at all, right?

When I was about 17, I had a brief revival of faith when my uncle started preaching at a local church. I realized that I had not been baptized, and I thought it was important that I do. After all, Jesus thought it was important enough to be baptized by John before starting his ministry. If it was good enough for the Son of God, it must be a requirement.

My uncle baptized me, and while I didn’t go to church, I did watch his services on TV.

It didn’t take long, however, for me to drift again. I don’t want to blame liberal teaching in college, but I started growing more cynical and sarcastic about this time.

Suddenly believing in Adam and Eve made little sense when you have evolution. And really? A boat large enough to get two of every kind of animal on board? Let’s not even get started on God stooping the world from rotating so Joshua could win a battle.

I eventually told myself the Bible is a book of folklore, legends to illustrate morality. But it contained as much fact as Tolkien.

Then I learned about secular humanism. I was told you could be moral without believing in a Supreme Being. It seemed so simple. I could live a life without being held responsible but still be a good person! 

Over the years, I redefined my beliefs as I went along. Along with a secular humanist, I considered myself an agnostic, a skeptic, nondenominational. At one point I considered myself an agnostic Christian, if you can believe such a thing. I decided I followed Christ’s teaching without being tied to believing he was God incarnate and had risen from the dead.

Yep, my faith was contorted into a moral pretzel.

Throughout it all, believe it or not, I kept praying. Even while I was an agnostic. It was a backup plan, just in case I was wrong. In my defense, I prayed for God to be with other people, not me. I thought I still would get the brownie points from God.

That went on until August, when my life came crashing down around me.

In a nutshell, I broke my leg, found out I had Stage 4 cancer and was walloped by complications from not taking care of my diabetes for years.

I have one or two memories of going to the ER, but after a couple of tests and calling my sister, it was like I blacked out. 

It could not officially be a coma because I had some response to stimuli, I guess. People who saw me say I would nod, even speak. The fiancée of one of my visitors said she was sorry she didn’t get to see me. Don’t worry, he told her. I don’t think he would remember It anyway.

He was right. I can’t tell you what happened for a week. I don’t remember eating or using the bathroom. I vaguely remember visitors, but how often and how many I don’t know. 

My first coherent memory was lying in the bed in the middle of the night. I couldn’t move because I was so weak. I saw the ceiling tiles, and that was about all.

I didn’t know about the diabetes issues. I remembered I had broken my leg and had cancer. But it was clear something was very wrong.

The next day my sister came in and filled me in. While I was out, I had  been treated for  pneumonia and a blood clot in my lung. 

The rest of the day was a blur, like the days before. But the news has sunken into my head.

I had come close to dying. 

That night, again unable to sleep, I stared at the ceiling tiles, creating patterns with the holes. It was about all I could do in my condition.

I started thinking about my life. Not in a life flashing before my eyes sort of way, just in a way of considering what I had done with my life.

I realized I had spent a good deal of it alone. By choice. 

I thought of how I could have better spent that time. Mostly by helping others. Making more use of my potential.

I also realized that I had been spared.

I had stopped believing in coincidences long ago when I met Deb when everything in the universe seemed to be against it. I put it down to destiny. I didn’t name it.

I realized whatever force that had guided me to her, that had guided me had guided me to that moment as well.

I was not angry at my situation. I was glad to be alive.

I was grateful to God.

After years of a half hearted faith, of pretending I could be a Christian without putting in the
emotional commitment, I had come back to God.

I prayed very hard for the rest of the night. I prayed that Jesus would come back into my heart. I prayed that I would get the chance to find the reason I had been spared for. I prayed that I would be cleansed body and soul.

I didn’t try to make a deal. I knew it was up to God what was to happen to me, not anything I could promise. Like salvation itself, I couldn’t earn His mercy. It was a gift made possible by the blood shed on the cross by Jesus.

I felt relieved afterwards. I knew I had been heard.

Since then, I have tried to follow the right path. I read the Bible every night and listen to sermons online. When I am stronger I want to go to church to worship with others. I want to find ways to help others.

I even think by writing this blog I am doing His will by sharing my story, how I’m turning my fears over to God and trusting in His plans for my life.

Do I think I will have days when my faith will waver? Yes. But I must try to remember that God does not waver in his love for us.

I don’t expect to be a perfect Christian any more than I expect to be a perfect human, but I am trying to be a better one. I hope I will succeed.