Knowing God

This week at work we welcomed eight young adults as our interns for the next year. At our staff meeting, they gave us a little background on themselves and shared how they became followers of Jesus Christ. It was refreshing, moving, emotional, and inspiring. So much so, that I want to write my story of how I, too, became a follower of Christ.

When I was four years old, my family moved to a neighborhood that would be our home for the next 14 years. The day we moved, I made a friend who invited me to church, so the next Sunday, and off and on for the next 14 years, I attended a small neighborhood church with her and her father. At that church, I learned a good deal about God and his son, Jesus. I knew without a doubt that God was real. When I was 11 years old, I decided that I believed that Jesus died for my sins so that I could go to heaven because of him, and not on my own performance, and I was baptized. I became a Christian.

Then my life took a turn. At 12, I was molested by a neighbor boy. It wasn't a rape; it was inappropriate touching, but it was so traumatic to me as a preteen, that I blocked it out of my memory for about 20 years. Although I didn't remember that abuse, I started to live the kind of life one would expect of a victim of sexual abuse to live: reckless, promiscuous, self-sabotaging. I had low self-esteem. I started on a long journey of depression. And because I didn't remember the abuse, I just thought I was flawed, dirty.

At church on Sundays, I would sincerely devote myself to God, longing to be a good person to show him how much I appreciated his love for me. But then through the week, I would fail time and time again in trying to do good and be good. This went on for several years. I got married at age 19 to a someone who thought I tricked him into marrying him. Who really knows? I didn't do it intentionally, but I accept that subconsciously I could have been that manipulating. I was rather dysfunctional. We gave it our best shot, but divorced after five years.

I was a single mom, working two jobs to survive. What started out as an addiction to NoDoz ended up being an addiction to crystal meth. I began to drink more and more. At that point, I said to God, "I'm sorry, but I don't know why I cannot "be a good Christian" like so many people around me. I feel like I'm missing a piece in a puzzle. I just don't get it. I try so hard to do good, but I fail every time. I can no longer call myself a Christian, because I am a disgrace to that word. I really am sorry, but I guess I just don't have what it takes."

With that, I walked away from God, still knowing that he was real.

A few months later, I met JB (who is my husband now) and he had a surfing buddy who went to church. We started to go to church too, and there I learned about the Holy Spirit, and how, when Jesus was resurrected and went to heaven, the Holy Spirit came and can live within us and help us in our decisionmaking and in living our life. As I learned more, I came to realize that the Holy Spirit was the piece of the puzzle that I was missing. In the past, I was trying to change my behavior by myself, when actually it was the Holy Spirit who could change me from the inside out! My part was simply giving up control of my life and allowing the Holy Spirit to be in control.

So I did just that. For six months, I took it one day at a time, and gave up control every morning. I said out loud, "God, without you, I can do nothing, but through you, I can do all things." Within two weeks, I was free from crystal meth, and although I had cravings for it for three years, I always relied on God's power through the Holy Spirit to get me through. Within two months, I gave up drinking, and to this day, I have never gotten drunk again. I do have an occasional drink.

Seven years later, my mind allowed me to remember the molestation I suffered as a child, and that led me to get counseling and to learn how to manage my predisposition to depression, by learning what triggers it, and learning that I have a voice ... and I can speak up.

In looking back on my life, I realize that, at age 11, God became my savior, and if I had died, I would have gone to heaven because I did believe in him. But at age 26, God became my LORD, having "lordship" or control over my life. It has been 19 years since then, and it has been a wonderful adventure.

Life as a Christian is not free from pain, loss, and heartbreak. And I am not anywhere near perfect. But because I know that God is in control of my life, I can be assured that anything that comes into my life, good or bad, has a purpose. I have so much to be thankful for, and I shudder to think how my life would be right now if I had never given control of my life over to God. Any good in my life is the result of the Holy Spirit living in me. To God be all glory!

What's your story?

A hui hou,
Lisa