I grew up in a Christian home. My parents made my brother and me go to church with them every Sunday. We would usually go to both the morning and evening service. Sometimes we would take turns claiming to have diarrhea to get out of the evening service. When I was 8-years-old I went before the church and professed Jesus as my savior, and I was baptized. It just seemed like it was time, because other kids my age were doing it. The truth was I was too young to completely understand all of it. For years I struggled with doubts about Jesus and about God’s existence. I remember sitting in the backyard asking God to send a bird overhead so that I would know he was real. Even if a bird flew overhead I would consider it a fluke and ask for another one. Ironically, the Bible talks about this sort of thing, but I didn’t know that then. I was really struggling with faith.
At the end of 6th grade I went through a period of temptation and conviction. It was awful. I felt guilty for almost every evil thought I ever had, and I kept hearing this voice in my head saying, “God is not real. God is not real.” At one point I went to my mom’s room at night and told her that I felt like the devil was upon me telling me God wasn’t real. I was so terrified that it took me awhile just to get out of bed to go talk to her. At the beginning of 7th grade (August 1988) I came to the realization that I needed to confess my sin and ask Jesus Christ to come into my heart. I had to face the fact that I didn’t really understand it when I was eight. Even though I was saved I still struggled with my doubts the next few years. I prayed on numerous occasions for God to take away my doubts.
Then a horrible thing happened my freshman year of high school. My father had severe pancreatitis and went into a diabetic coma. We kept praying for him, but every day he seemed to get worse. In the time he was in the hospital his lungs collapsed, his kidneys failed, his blood sugar was skyrocketing, and he was put on a respirator. One night my brother and I had to go to the hospital in the middle of the night, because they didn’t think that my dad was going to make it. The nurse talked to us about code blue. They were talking about pulling the plug on my dad! I just couldn’t handle it. It was probably the only time in my life that I was close to praying without ceasing. I couldn’t concentrate at school. I would just pray for my dad the whole time. I kept begging God to let me keep my dad unless he was planning to take me too. After praying so much I was starting to feel the Holy Spirit inside me. Finally one night I was sitting in the family room with my mom and brother. We were talking about where we were going to bury my dad. At that point I prayed to God that if he was with me that I could get through this. It was the first time that I really gave it over to God. Within a week or two my dad came out of the coma, and he didn’t really understand or remember what had happened. They moved him out of intensive care. It was a miracle!
About a month after he came home from the hospital his face became really swollen, and after some tests it was discovered that he only had 7% of his pancreas function left. The doctor said that some people had lived with 10% before, but the first year would be the hardest if he even made it through that. My dad wasn’t in a coma this time so to see him so sad about the news was the most heartbreaking thing of all. When he was in the coma we always tried to stay strong and positive around him. This time he was awake, and I was going to have to tell him that I loved him and say my “goodbye.” How was I supposed to do that without crying and bringing him down? We could lose him any day now, and I wasn’t about to let him go without telling him that I loved him. I sat in my room praying about it for hours. I had heard about people just opening up the Bible to a scripture that would help them. A teacher had mentioned it in my Sunday school class at some point. It hadn’t worked for me before, but this time was different. I opened up to Mark 5:25-34:
“And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, ‘If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.’ Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched my clothes?’
‘You see the people crowding against you,’ his disciples answered, ‘and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’
But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.’”
The scripture gave me hope, and as I finished reading it I could hear my mom and dad coming upstairs to go to bed. I met them at the top of the stairs. I felt like God was carrying me. My legs felt weightless. I talked to my parents about the scripture I had read. I told my dad how much I loved him, and that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him and mom. We all started laughing. I wasn’t in the habit of making sex jokes to my parents, but it certainly did lighten the mood in a dark situation. I have always thought that was proof that God has a sense of humor. We all went to bed that night laughing and in a good mood. The Lord had helped me say “goodbye” to my dad without crying. That was 1991. My dad is still alive, and it is now 2011. Praise Jesus! As if that wasn’t enough of a miracle on its own, the second miracle was that I stopped having my doubts. It was through all the suffering that God revealed His presence. God is wonderful, merciful, and mighty!
I wish I could say that is the end of my testimony, but the truth is it is a journey. I have certainly at times doubted God's love for me. Insecurities and self-doubt still crop up from time to time. Actually, they crop up more than I would care to admit. When they do I just look back on all God has done for me, and then I realize His grace is sufficient for me.
I know that Christ Jesus is alive, because He lives within my heart! In times of great suffering the Lord has always been my refuge. Throughout the years I have learned to trust His timing, and His plan has always been better than mine. I pray that God will touch the heart of anyone that reads this. May He bless you and keep you all the days of your life.
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