This is my story. I doubt anyone will ever read this, but
that is perfectly fine. I’m just a writer, always have been, always will be.
Writing is how I can best communicate myself. Not only to the world, but also
to myself. I know, sounds weird huh? But really. You know when you are sitting
there thinking about things at night while lying in bed, or if you’re like my
friends, on the toilet. And you have that brilliant “ah-ha” moment of epiphany.
The problem you have been mulling over for weeks is finally solved, and it is
so simple! Yeah, that’s never happened to me. Not through just thinking at
least. I have always had to write down my thoughts and feelings. Otherwise my
brain turns into this giant landfill of a place. A place where I know the
treasures are there, but I’m not willing to dive into the 10 feet of crap just
to get to them. So instead, I write about it. And then it’s like one of those
hoarder shows where the professional cleaner comes in and when she leaves,
things don’t look perfect, but they look livable.
So that explains my love affair with writing... now it’s
time for me. I was kind of dreading this part. Well for purposes of this blog,
no need to start at the beginning of my life. I’ll go with the day I was born
again.
So there I was, sitting in a middle school auditorium when
the words: “Would anyone like to come up and accept Jesus Christ as their Lord
and savior?” were said. And there they hung. Just waiting for me. It was at a church
event that my family had invited me to. After the recent and unexpected death
of one of my dad’s long time friends. They all started attending this church,
and I was not on board. Church was not for me. Let me explain.
I was never raised in church. I am not sure if that is a
good thing or a bad thing, but for me, it meant I knew pretty much nothing
about God or Jesus or sin. That also meant I didn’t really have any guidelines.
I just did what I wanted. This meant having a serious boyfriend in the eighth
grade (what the heck? I know.) And this also meant losing my virginity in one
awkwardly sweaty night my freshman year of high school.
The crazy thing is, looking back; I know God was with me
even then. When that little voice inside my head kept saying “you don’t want to
do this” “this is so not worth it” “if it hurts, it’s probably not right”.
That’s what had stopped me every time before when things got a little hot and
heavy. But I was tired of being a “tease”(yes that’s what he called me. I know,
it should have been a sign right then to get out while I still could).
Unfortunately, the desire to be bad, to fulfill my lustful desires, and plain
old hormones, had the upper hand.
Anyways, fast-forward about two years, back to that day in
the gym. So there the words hung, waiting for me to take hold, as I looked down
the row of seats I saw my whole family looking at me, smiling at me,
encouraging me to go up to the front. And there was that voice in my head
again, “go up there” “you want this” “you need this”. So I listened, I think
for this first time in my life, and stood up. My legs were like cooked
spaghetti and my stomach was doing backflips. As I walked forward, I saw many
leaders of the church standing up there, waiting to pray with people. I went
for the lady who looked like a retired kindergarten teacher (I felt she’d be
most sympathetic if I ended up throwing up all over her.), and I prayed.
“Repeat after me, okay?”
yeah. sure.
“I’m tired of doing this alone”
I’m tired of doing this alone
“I need you Jesus”
I need you Jesus
“I accept you as my Lord and Christ”
I accept you as my Lord and Christ
“I know that you died on the cross for me”
I know that you died on the cross for me
“And that you love me”
And that you love me
“I pray that you will change me from the inside out”
I pray that you will change me from the inside out
“Thank you Father God. Amen”
Thank you Father God. Amen.
And that’s when my life began.
