Re: Christian Testimonies - Share yours?
Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 5:20 am
by Angellicrequiem
I grew up in a french Catholic family, though my mother was first an Atheist, then an agnostic an later a Christian before her death at the age of 42. My earliest church experiences were meaningless, though throughout my entire life I have had an uncanny affinity with nature and wild animals. At the age of 2 I was found petting a Bull Moose in Banff National Park, an ordeal that made the papers due to a mild standoff between game wardens, my parents, and apparently police. Though I was unharmed, the animal never allowed anyone close to me until I chose to go back to my mother. That aside there are many testimonies that can be made about my relationship with the wilderness, a gift I have known now for some time comes directly from God.
Sometime, when I was around 12, my mother was in the hospital being treated for an illness she would eventually die from, though it has never been diagnosed or understood, a prayer group made up of delegates from several churches had come to pray for her. I was there as well, and partway through I felt entirely overwhelmed by a peace I could not explain. Not euphoria, but unadulterated peace. I don't remember collapsing to my knees (One of the men praying caught me, later he would be the minister to preside over my marriage to my wife), but I do remember feeling my entire body releasing all my fears about losing my mother, instantly. Later, the next week the man who caught me had spoken of a 'profound' peace falling over him to my father, and a command to turn around to catch me (since though he did catch me, no one was facing me at the time, all had laid a hand on my mother). This was however only the beginning.
As the years passed I watched my mother deteriorate, and as she did she made the transition from atheist to Christian. As they passed I continued to learn how to sleep in emergency waiting rooms. I learned to endure the mental and physical strain of poor sleep habits, and poor nutrition from hospital food. As I did however, my compassion never subsided. Always I sought to protect those less fortunate than myself, those who were being tormented for weakness. This is not to say I did not suffer persecution myself (Try being in middle school with poor shower habits and with a family that was poor due to the vast expense of my mother's medical care), but I endured for a fashion that taught me great humility. I only raised a hand to do harm twice in those years: Once I broke another child's arm for threatening to cut me with a pocketknife (Suspended 2 weeks, threat of expulsion) and another time I shattered a child's jaw because he would not stop beating on another child. My actions garnered much respect in the teachers and other children, and the principle that followed. I never acted in fear, I acted to prevent terrible things. Many times I was bullied and beaten, in which I never rose a hand to defend, all because of my circumstances, and a few times because I vocally challenged the "Christian" behavior of some prominent families.
Please understand, I was never, and still am not an above average person for size. I am a natural athlete with no great desire for athletics (Nor could my family have afforded them anyways). I didn't go out looking for fights, but I never gave in to fear and intimidation. The very act of intimidation creates a well of pity and indignation within me. My lack of defenses (except in two specific occasions) led many to think I was weak and simply fun to beat on. Nonetheless I remained true to my faith that in what I was doing was right by God.
If God had intended me born again at 12, he forged me through fire to ensure it at 15. I found myself lost, not afraid, but filled with sorrow. I sought at the time to commit the ultimate sin, but for the intervention of a strange occurrence I never really understood. To put it bluntly I played russian roulette with a fully loaded gun, and won. We aren't talking a safety on, this was an 1896 one off custom weapon, no such safety was ever equipped on that weapon. The hammer fell, but slowly, and my resolve failed for a second shot. Instead I fired at the intended range target (Benefits of farm life). The gun fired all 6 shots in perfect succession, and I released all my pain in solitude then. I also remember seeing a chosen few people who were outside my regular circles who had shown kindness, who years later expressed their gratitude for my bravery and fortitude growing up. In moments like these, whether or not you believe them, I came far closer to God than I could have imagined.
I can tell you my actions have changed lives. I can tell you many things, if you choose to believe them is your choice. These are the events I cherish most.
God Bless
Re: Christian Testimonies - Share yours?
Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2011 8:08 pm
by StMonicaGuideMe
This is an amazing thread with truly inspiring stories. God Bless each one of you for sharing such private and introspective details of your relationship with our Lord. Truly...truly wonderful.
I've been considering what to write for my testimony for some time, and it is nowhere near as phenomenal as any of the tales preceding mine. But, I will do what I can, and who knows, perhaps others can give me insight into something I may have missed...
I was born and raised in a Catholic family with my mother and grandmother at the helm of the household. My father, who undoubtedly loved me, was a troubled man, and unfortunately left my family when I was but a year old. I would continue to have a strained and awkward relationship with him since he departed my day-to-day life, something I've only just been able to become at peace with.
My extended family, though all Catholic, didn't really act like it. Catholicism really only "took" to my mother and living with my beloved grandmother also aided in my strong upbringing. She was a force to be reckoned with; brilliant, kind and utterly devoted to Our Lady. My oldest memories are of her praying the rosary every day and watching EWTN (which I think she would now not approve of!). Life for my mom wasn't too easy but she was a beacon of strength; real proof of what faith can do to a woman facing the world alone with a little girl in tow.
I was a well-behaved child, for the most part, though I had some major anger issues, ultimately developed from abandonment by my father, again something I struggled with for many years. I was never really aware of a connection with God, though I loved him in the best way I knew how. He was my "friend" and I trusted him to take care of me and my family. The saving grace in my early developmental years was my grandfather who I lived with after my father left, along with my grandmother and mother. He was a strong, gentle and quiet man who was always there. He was the first one to teach me about the gentle nature of what a father really is, something that I would later learn exists in our God. Unfortunately, he died when I was still very young, and the positive male role model disappeared.
Though I went to Catholic school, being openly religious was something to be made fun of, even then. I was not a raging "bible thump-er", but I knew my verses, I practiced what I preached. Since I was not a snobby, bitchy, condescending tart like a lot of the other 13 year old's I used to be friends with, I was quickly dumped by those who had grown up singing in the pew next to me. It got even worse when I was awarded a Catholic student award of sorts, something given to students who "imitated the spirit of Christ every day". I was honoured to receive it, but my "social status" plummeted. I still didn't care too much, if God was happy with me, that's all that mattered.
I came to depend more on the boys in my life, solely as friends, since my morals prevented any sort of "acting out" sexually, as arguably happens to girls with "daddy issues". I was never really let down by them; they defended me, taught me to protect myself, to stand up for myself, and to depend on myself. I felt safe with them and it started to fill some holes in understanding I had about the "masculine" nature of God. Since I grew up with a very absent father, I didn't understand how God could be "male" and be "good", since the two never really were hand in hand. But, I was a smart enough child to know that it wasn't impossible, I just hadn't experienced it yet myself. Perhaps God sent some of them my way to keep my head on straight and to "have my back" when no one else did.
However, I had to separate from most of them when I entered high school due to the boundaries of where we all lived. I had to start all over. High school however, was far more kind to me than the later years in elementary. I was never made fun of for my faith, I was fairly popular and enjoyed many activities. But, like most teenagers, I withdrew from God when I started to come into my own, and especially when I started dating "seriously", against the will of my mother, when I was 16. This was an enormous mistake.
The boy I dated was severely troubled, and I wanted to "save" him from himself. It was obvious very soon (to everyone but me) that he was dangerous and would cause me much strife. I was abused, verbally, physically and almost sexually and it was only when the latter occurred that I realized how far away from God I had walked. It became even worse when my father suddenly died, and all I could do was hang onto the things in my life that were familiar to cope with the loss, even if it was to this troubled young man.
However, the loss of my father reminded me of one thing -- life is short, and God's in charge. Over the course of the following year, I struggled with many emotions, but never found myself angry at God, as I hear so many people are when they lose a loved one. This never entered my mind, and it was all thanks to my mother and grandmother who kept telling me that God had a plan for my father, and whether he followed it or not, it was my *duty* to continue to pray for him, and that I must continue to love him and forgive him for leaving me behind. If it had not been for this important message, so militantly instilled, I know I would have become a much angrier person. In the year that followed, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and I faced the very real possibility that I may become an orphan before I was 18 years old. With no siblings and an aging grandmother, I was terrified at the potential dangers that could come. Even then, I felt God's presence with me, telling me "I will not send you anything you cannot handle. Trust in me". God blessed our family by sparing my mother and uniting our family even more. I struggled to make peace with God and to gain courage to separate from the boy I was dating. Eventually I did, and became a very happy person almost overnight, though the damage done by another man in my life was now there, and I struggled with resentment of the opposite sex. Again, it didn't help that God is a father figure, something I still wasn't comfortable with. Either way, I tried my best to stay on good terms with Him, and was happy that I was about to graduate and go on towards university.
I soon began speaking to a young man over the internet, so taboo in those days, but I didn't care too much. He was a Protestant, a type of Christian friend I had not had many of before, but he sounded and "acted" more Christian than any Catholics I knew. I attribute much of my re-connecting with God to him, as he always reminded me of God's plan, His nature, that trusting in God is all we need, etc. He was a gentle soul, with his own troubles, and I found myself in the same position as before -- wanting to save someone from themselves. What could the harm be, I asked myself, this one is thousands of miles away.
Fast forward to a year later, and we've met and fallen in love (and how we met was a miracle in of itself). He had "repaired" so much of the "male inspired" damage by abandonment, abuse and loss, it was impossible to consider my life without him. I was inspired by his faith every day, and I knew that he was the one I wanted to marry. Apparently, I was the one he wanted, too and soon we had "the talk". However, "the talk" was not as great as we could have hoped since it suddenly brought to light our obvious religious differences. I wanted him to convert, he didn't want to, and since I didn't know of dispensations and the like at the time, I thought we were doomed. How, I asked myself, how could God put me in the path of someone so wonderful and God-fearing and have us not end up together? It didn't matter that we lived on opposite sides of the continent -- religion was dividing us! (I know, I know...). I prayed and prayed that we could continue the relationship, since everything else would be worth it, and we did. A few years later, he said he wanted to convert to Catholicism, that it was the closest to what he believes is true. By this time, I had found the Latin Rite of the church, and was attending traditional Masses, to which he would come. Some of my most peaceful moments would be during the rosary and benediction, capturing glances at him as he reverently prayed the Hail Mary. I couldn't believe it was happening. I didn't even prod anymore, it just *happened*.
A year after that, we were engaged and I thought everything was falling into place. However, he slowly began to back away from Christianity in general. He talked about God less, we argued about faith more and something odd was happening to the man I loved. My mother and grandmother were worried about a "descent" from faith, and I ignored their warnings. There was no way he was falling away. I prayed to God for clarity, but none came. I soon entered a dry spell in my faith, a spell that was 100% caused by my own actions...
My beloved grandmother passed away a year after that, and an enormous pathway to God was gone for me. I missed her profoundly, and her suffering, though teaching me much of God's mercy to those who love Him, affected me in a way I didn't know possible. My fiance's response to it should have been a warning bell; claims that God isn't in charge, that he's not involved in life or death, and that He's just "there". I was too distraught at the time to realize the dangerous nature of this message...
We broke up for a short period of time, again with our faith being the cause of it. Even with my lack-luster efforts with God, my fiance still found ways to argue with me about how "wrong" it all is. We reunited after a few weeks, and it was then that I noticed a rapid decline in his faith. It was affecting me profoundly, but by this point, I had already convinced myself that God intended him for me, so I had to "suffer through" it, and that he would come back around in time.
By the time we were married in the church, he had stopped praying all together, didn't even believe God directly impacts our lives and was dabbling in agnosticism. I buried my head in the sand and kept thinking that God will bring him back around.
Within months of us being married, something we were determined to do for several years, a "dream" come true, he started spewing off the nonsense of Hitchens, Dawkins, Dennet and Harris. Each month it was something new, something different. I couldn't possibly understand why this was happening, what had happened to the good Christian man I fell in love with, the one I married. It was only then that I realized that this descent had been occurring for years, and I was blinding myself to it the entire time. I initially resigned to my fate -- that I would be like St. Monica and pray endlessly for him to come back, not knowing how long that would take. It would bolster my faith, it would lead me towards people who were like minded to provide support, etc. I saw potential with the suffering, and believed that God meant to strengthen and purify me through it. Then, he shared something with me that was simply not acceptable that would affect any children we may have.
It was in that small moment that I felt God's hand present in my life in the strongest way:
ENOUGH.
It was a sudden crack in my conscientiousness that I thought was so loud, it would break my skull open. I felt overwhelmed with something powerful, something of great truth, of great strength. I no longer felt like the faithful but reserved girl I was growing up and as a young adult. I had been walked on because of my faith by others, but it only struck me that it was now happening by my own husband, and it was simply not okay. I felt the NEED to defend God from my own husband, as if he had offended my Lord enough. I was not about to stand it any longer.
I suddenly remembered many years ago during a conversation we had when we were first dating. He asked me, "if you had to choose between me and God, who would it be?". I answered quickly, "God". He said, "good".
I simply never thought that situation would ever, ever arise where I may have to choose.
In that small moment, I felt the absolute requirement to stand up and not let God be run over anymore, to not let me be run over anymore because I believe in Him. I made the decision to distance myself from the hatred and the irrationality of his claims, to clear my head and to determine what to do.
So, I stand before all of you here today, testifying as truthfully as possible. I am here because of this; this is the present situation in my life, the present suffering, the turmoil, and for the first time, I do not know what God wishes of it.
But, I am here because I made a stand for my beliefs against my other half. I am here because I believe and I will believe until the end of the world. I will believe even if I am the last to believe.
I would appreciate any prayers!
