I don’t want to call it a testimony.
Because for years I didn’t think I really had one.
Aren’t those stories of young adults saved from the brink of destruction exciting? Isn’t it delightful to see the excitement and complete u-turn of their journey from death to life?
I never had that.
I never didn’t believe God and His Word.
Sure, I said a prayer, probably hundreds of times, to make sure Jesus really lived in my heart. I wasn’t scared of the boogeyman as a child. I was scared of missing the rapture! I didn’t feel any different after I prayed. Was I lacking?
You know the funny thing about God?
He doesn’t just want a box checked off. He isn’t so desperate for me to obey the Thou Shalt Nots, or take a weekly rest day or else. Those are good - but just details.
What He wants is a relationship with me.
Not just a wild beginning, though He’ll take that if necessary to have a whole heart.
He wants a life.
Looking back, that’s what I’ve had.
Life - with Jesus.
Almost 40 years behind, maybe 40 years more ahead?
Not all perfect (because one of us isn’t) but that’s all part of relationship.
I’ve had emotional highs on mountaintops, and lows in the dead of night.
I’ve had poignant moments in daily life when I realized how good He is.
I’ve praised him in hospital rooms and talked with Him at my kitchen sink.
I’ve seen Him heal cancer. I’ve watched Him give a second (and hundred second) chance to drug addicts the world gave up. And I’ve seen Him call home a child because heaven is better, and allow pain because it builds a man like nothing else can.
I’ve had days of frustrated prayer when the sky seemed like brass and I couldn’t get through.
I’ve had days, months even, when complacency set in, and I’d grow brassy myself at His knocking, asking quietly but to be let back into my life. He didn’t stop. Eventually I heard. He is persistent and so patient.
He hasn’t changed at all.
But I have.
And He has proved faithful.
That’s my story.
I’m thankful for it.