Okay, this is my first blog. If you're reading this, then I have successfully published it. Right on. Anyway, I figured I'd share my testimony for my first blog. A few days ago, my friend from school was talking about his youth group and how they were writing their testimonies. He told me that I should write mine too, and so here we are.
When I was growing up in Oregon City, I attended church regularly and never questioned why. Knowing and loving God always came as a natural way of life; something my mom raised me to do (and I thank her). I was always under the impression that as long as I was a good kid that I'd go to Heaven after I die. However, I never knew about the bad side of Christianity until 2001 (or so). I was with a group of first graders (like myself at the time), and we were asked about certain things that we never wanted to do. This went on for a while until a kid named Connor spoke the words "I don't wanna go to Hell." I had no idea what he was talking about, but I acted like I did by nodding in agreement. This concerned the teacher and we went into this very long discussion about what Hell is and certain things that happen there. Needless to say, my young mind was scarred and I acted as good as I could from that point on. Life went on and I was even able to bring some of my friends to Christ by inviting then to church and other various things. However, things took a very weird turn in my life in 2006.
On New Year's Eve of 2005, my mom got a call from my Uncle Terry about how my Great-Grandpa Bill had been placed in hospice care. After my mom explained what that meant to my siblings and myself, I felt really worried for the first time in life. Over the next three weeks or so, my family basically never left his bedside and we all prayed around him continually. It wasn't until January 23, 2006 that my great grandpa passed away at 91 years old. I was confused at that point on why God would allow this to happen. Yes, I knew that people died, but it was more of a heat of the moment-type situation. We were able to get through the loss eventually, but it wasn't long until my family was once again forced to grieve.
Without warning, a mere month and a half later saw my family lose my grandma Pam on March 5, 2006. Obviously, this made my doubt even worse because of the fact that I hadlost two of the most important people in my life within a short period of time. Again, my mom talked me through this doubt and she prayed with me, and life, while somewhat emptier, went on after my grandma's death. However, again, life took another tragic turn a short (but not as short as the last time) time later.
In May of 2007, I received a call from my Uncle Terry again, who this time had to explain to my mom that my Uncle Bill had passed away. This time, instead of sorrow, I just felt angry. I could have just tried to accept the fact that it was their time on Earth to end, but I just ignored that completely and blamed it on God. Looking back on it now, it was more out of anger than it was rational thought, because I knew that God had a plan for them and it was to die when they did, but I didn't want to accept that.
From there on out, I just refused to listen to God. I rarely went to church, and when thrre, I didn't pay attention. My grades slipped tremendously, and I started hanging out with some old friends who had made some very bad decisions. They cussed all the time, drank, partied, smoked, and did a bunch of things that I am very openly opposed to, but I hung out with them anyway because I felt comfort among people who were really at my level, but for different reasons. In addition to hanging out with those people, I also had dark thoughts about certain aspects of life. The idea of having sex was almost a goal of mine (yeah, I was "that" sad). Besides that, I took no joy in all that I was doing. I had days when I wished that a car would just come by and hit me because I didn't want to deal with every day life. I wanted out. This entire saga of wanting sex, hanging out with the wrong people, and thoughts of suicide took up a good three year chunk of my life. At the end of eighth grade, I (God, actually) decided to make a change.
A very tough decision was put in front of me: go to Oregon City High School and continue down the dangerous path that I was on, or go to Gladstone High School and start fresh with my sister who already was at GHS. In the long run, I (actually God) made the right decision because I went to GHS. I look at that decision now and it was the decision of God to have me transfer schools and save me from the monster that I had become. I made friends at GHS, and while they weren't exactly the best influence, I had made other friends that were firm believers in Christ. I know now that I didn't treat them as well as I should've (sorry Joe, Brandon and Ryan), but I definitely appreciate what they were to me during my years there. I went to GHS for about two years, and while things improved in my life, I still didn't see God working in my life. However, that was about to change.
As I was closing out Sophomore year, my mom met a man named Darin. They were friends at first but they started a relationship soon after that in May 2010. I liked this guy a lot (his son Tyler had a PS3 and UFC Undisputed 2010, how could you not like a guy like that?) He had a firm belief in Christ and it really resonated with my mom and it made her happy, so I was happy too. The church he attended (Salem Evangelical Church) was really nice and everything, but I never really felt like I belonged there. He lived in Salem, however, and that posed some problems. Regardless of how I did or did not feel, it didn't matter, because my mom and Darin got engaged in June of 2010, a month after they met, and married on August 14, 2010 (the hottest day of that year, so a tuxedo on that day was fun). I was sad that I would be leaving an awesome group of friends and an awesome school, but another change in my life was welcome to me. At least, God felt another change was needed and welcome. I went to the youth group at SEC for the first time in July of that year, and the youth pastor at the time named Garrett posed a question that has stuck with me even to this day: how is God working through you? I'd like to think that I'm a pretty smart person, but that question really puzzled me and I couldn't answer because I couldn't answer. I truly hadn't felt like God had worked through me, and I felt the need to take initiative.
I helped out with events at my church such as serving food to the homeless and other various things, and while that's all well and good, I just didn't feel as though I changed anyone or had God's love shown through me. But then, I went on my first missions trip. Just to sum up my spring break earlier this year, it was easily the best week of my life. I could see the smile on faces of people who truly were thankful for what we were doing, and I felt God with me for the first true time in my life. Whether it was handing out food to people on the streets, praying with little kids in Spanish (a crowning achievement in my life, although I had virtually no idea how that worked), or singing with people, God blessed my with a desire to be a better person. I began to become excited to go to church, I wanted to know more of God's word, and I just wanted God in my life again. Great feeling, I'm not gonna lie.
So whether it be acting "emo" to get attention, moving from place to place and losing friends, or finding sudden urges of wanting to know God more, God has a plan for all of us, and we're obligated to trust in Him through the darkest of times.
"The Lord is my strength and my shield. My heart will trust in Him, and I will be helped."
-Psalm 28:7
