--Some of you, my readers, may think I share a little too much personal information. I do this for a reason. There may be someone out there that can benefit from what I have experienced and I wish to be a help. If my life has been an encouragement or "wise counsel" to someone, then I say "Praise God" and may my life (whether good or bad) continue to be passed around for others to learn from.--Back in 2006, I became a member of the church Jeremy has attended since he moved here to Wisconsin. This following is my testimony that I shared with the church deacons.
In 1979, I was born to an unwed Jewish girl who gave me up for adoption. God chose to place me in a family that ended up adopting three children and brought them up in a Christian church. I learned about God and His Son, Jesus, when I was a child and even then, I desired to go to heaven. So I prayed that God would let Jesus live in my heart and help me to be good. I prayed that prayer every night.
As a child, I do not recall my parents ever talking to me about becoming a Christian or the need to be saved from sin... but somehow I still knew it was necessary. When I was almost 13, I heard a sermon about what Jesus went through before His death: the beatings and torture... and I realized that I had to personally surrender my life over to God rather than depend upon the fact that I got in less trouble than my brothers. That night, I confessed that I understood that all my sins, however minor, had caused Jesus the pain He suffered and asked Him to forgive me. However, after that night is where my story really begins.
I was trying to live my life in honor of the Lord, but my older brother was not. He got involved with some not-so-good friends at school and was upset with me for not following his example as I had always done before. My mother knew I had gotten saved and told me that because my brother and I were now on two separate paths, I should have nothing to do with him. On my mother's counsel, I did not spend time with or even speak to my brother for 11 years even though much of that time we lived in the same house.
A few years later, my brother professed faith in Christ, and still I had nothing to do with him because, according to my mother, he wasn't genuine or else he would have asked forgiveness for each specific sin he had committed against our family. Several more years after that, he moved out of my parent's home and never gave a forwarding address or phone number. We only heard about him through other people who had seen him and we continued to harshly judge him. He moved to Pennsylvania to be near the woman he ended up marrying and during that time wrote a letter of apology which he sent to each member of our family... and we judged him still more because he, again, did not name specifics and he only wrote the letter because it was a homework assignment from the pastor from whom he was receiving pre-marital counseling. According to my mother, he is still unsaved today.
From the time I repented and asked God to save me, I would periodically have severe doubts about my salvation which stemmed from observing the treatment my brother received after he got saved at 16. Any time I struggled with a particular sin, I was wracked with guilt and would secretly pray that God would save me again... and again... and again.
During my college years, my mom made constant critiques and shared doubts she had about my salvation. It wasn't until I graduated from college and was in my career job that these problems came at me full force. My parents chose who my first boyfriend would be. I was 22 and he had expressed interest to my parents and they approved... all done without my knowledge. So, out of the blue, some man with whom I was barely an acquaintance was all of a sudden my boyfriend and I had no say in the matter. This man ended up treating me badly for eight months before he, thankfully, decided I wasn't in God's will for his life.
During that relationship, I was depressed much of the time and my mother took the opportunity to take me aside and confront me on my lack of peace and trust in the Lord about it. She said this lack of faith caused her to have serious doubts about my salvation and that I should examine my heart to see if my faith was genuine. I cried and begged God to give me peace about my salvation or to save me if I was not saved. Looking back, I am amazed at how many times I prayed this desperate prayers of assurance or pleas for salvation.
After moving out of my parent's home at 22, I lived with some girls for a few months and then got an apartment by myself. That is when I started receiving letters from my mother about how she was so grieved that all three of her children were unsaved. During this time, I spent every evening with my married friend (who is a pastor's wife) and I still attended my parent's church. My mother saw me every Sunday. Her knowledge of how I lived my life did not mean anything... she was convinced about my spiritual condition and I could neither do nor say anything to change her mind. I spoke with her repeatedly explaining how I knew I was saved. "For whosoever calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." I even tried writing her letters, but to no avail.
After a couple of years, I caved into her words. I had received yet another letter harshly stating that I was damned to hell and that I was a foolish young woman; though she never did tell me what it was I had done wrong. I did not throw her letter away, but left it on the floor as a reminder and it plagued me. How could my own mother not see that I strive to live my life in honor and glory of the Lord? If she can't see it, I must be deceived in myself. Because parents try and want to believe the best about their children, don't they?
I opened my Bible and again fervently studied all the verses that explained the characteristics of a Christian--such as having love for God, repenting from sin, selfless love, spiritual growth and obedient living--to see how I matched up. It was so confusing because with my studies, I found no reason to say I wasn't saved... NONE. Certainly I wasn't perfect, but that wasn't a requirement. Despite the fact that the Holy Spirit and Scripture had proven I was saved, I refused to believe it because my mother didn't and wouldn't believe it.
As a result of so many destructive words, I became firmly convinced that I was not a Christian and never had been. I became depressed and hopeless about my condition. I knew what it meant to be a Christian and what people need to do in order to be saved. I remembered how I repeatedly cried out to God to forgive me and begged Him to save me.
If I knew all the answers and had done everything He required of me to be saved and He still wouldn't save me, I was lost. There was no hope. I wrote a letter of confession to my parents and to others that had been involved in my life, stating that even though I had made a profession of faith at 13 and even been baptized... it was all fake. I had deceived them all and I no longer wanted anything to do with Christianity. I announced my plan to move away so that children with whom I had an influence over in the past would not look at me and be led astray because of my bad example. I did not want them to end up like me... so I fled from everything.
The day I gave out that letter, my parents insisted I come over to their house to talk. When my mother opened the door, she gave me a hug (which rarely happened in my family) and her first words were, "I've known for a long time. I'm so glad God finally showed you the truth." That afternoon was spent with my parents calmly telling me all the consequences I would face as a pagan who lived an openly sinful life and proceeded to witness to me and tell me how to be saved. That day was the first time I ever remember hearing the words I had been longing to hear my whole life... "We are so proud of you..." Granted, with all these confusing words, this was the first time I could relax in front of my parents and not worry that every action or word was judged because they weren't about to make the mistake of expecting a pagan to act like a Christian.
So for the next several months and following, I completely gave up on God and lived my life as a pagan, not caring about consequences or how it would affect my life later on. As far as I was concerned, my life was over anyway and I wondered why I even bothered prolonging it. It would have been better to die because there was no way I could be saved with the knowledge I already had, since God had rejected me. At some point during these months, I called my brother and asked him why he left our family and never contacted us. He proceeded to tell me a very similar story to my own. We are now reconciled and are back in communication.
After moving to Kansas City, MO... I found a church where the people showed me what unconditional love was for the first time. They accepted me just as I was and recognized me for the crushed person I had become as a result of all these events. After talking with the pastor, he helped me realize that God hadn't abandoned me at all... and He most certainly hadn't rejected me. God has forgiven me of everything I did while I lived apart from Him. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." These life events I have shared with you are the reason I can sit solidly on my faith without wavering in doubt from anything... despite what anyone thinks of me.
And... last, but certainly not least... my full-blood sister, Shanna. She is 24 (I think). She's a freakish look-alike.
What do you think?
I thought he was nuts. But that's how our romance started. I figured anyone who actually "liked" my picture had to be just as quirky or eccentric as I was... and I was right.
Now, nearly four years later, we have almost* two sons: Jeremiah William (2 years, 4 months) and Jonah (who will be joining us in November) and two dogs:
