Before I begin, I'd like to start off by saying how sorry I am for not blogging for a few months or so. It wasn't because I was busy or anything, actually, it was. But that wasn't the reason. The reason is that God had laid it on my heart to share my testimony, but every time I went to go sit down, my mind would just fill with static and I could not think of what to write for the life of me. I was under attack. As a matter of fact, I did attempt to start, and I had something substantial down, but for some odd - and by odd, I mean the enemy - reason, my auto save did not kick in and I lost EVERYTHING. I'm highly convinced it's because we all have something to share, and to contribute to the Kingdom of God, and that upsets the enemy a whole lot. Anyway, here goes:
My testimony starts out the usual and traditional way of how testimonies start out, so I'll skim over that. Yes, I was born and raised in a Christian home. Yes, my family is Christian. Yes, I went to church. Yes, I went to a Christian school. Yes, I love God.
My background, spiritually, makes me look like a mutt: I was part of the CRC when I was a wee one, then my family moved on to the Vineyard church, then I moved on to a little church named Dunamis Church Sarnia until finally, I settled in with The Gathering Place Christian Fellowship. But that isn't what I want to get into. My story begins when we left the CRC and decided to join River City Vineyard.
River City. I vividly remember my first impression of this small, little church that had just started up. We learned about it from my aunt and uncle because they were going there and thought that we should check it out. So we did. First impression: I love the music. There were people up on a little stage playing guitars, singing into microphones, and drumming on the drums. Like a rock band! I would've given everything right then and there to be able to listen to this kind of music every Sunday instead of people singing hymns to the tunes played out on a monotonous organ. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. It's just that, when I was a wee one, I didn't really appreciate our church and all that it had [and even when we were steadfastly going to River City and had to take turns to bring my dear grandma to church, I still didn't appreciate it; all I cared about were the mints that were overflowing and the balcony seating]. Nowadays, I probably would appreciate it more because it would most likely remind me of my grandma [she died while I was in sixth grade].
One of my fondest memories of RCV was during Sunday school, during the first year or so I was going, it took place in this very kitschy kitchen-type room, and the teacher, Rob, had us all close our eyes and listen to what God was saying or whatever. Knowing nothing about this, I was determined to be the "good one" and try my very hardest at this exercise. So I folded my hands and closed my eyes and waited. After a few seconds, I heard, rather than felt, this gentle breeze around me. Now I opened my eyes to make sure I wasn't hearing things or making myself think I'm hearing something, but when I did, I saw that the window was closed and so was the door leading outside. Now Rob had everyone open their eyes and share what happened. I shared what I heard, and Rob said that it was "meat". I was intrigued.
Little did I know that this would be the start of the battle for my soul. And what a battle it would be!
I remember vacationing for a week up in Stayner, Ontario, during the summer for a few years. This was because all the Vineyards in Ontario were all staying there having their annual summer "camp". It during this that when we all went to this "classroom", this guy started speaking to us and teaching us. I can't remember what all happened, but I do remember that afterwards, he gave a sort of altar call to come up and receive Jesus. Everybody went up with the exception of a few people, myself included. My cousins and brother went up but I stayed sitting. Afterwards, I was wandering the grounds and couldn't find anybody, so I went back to the room that my mom and brother and I were staying in and just hung out there. I do remember my mom coming in and asking her how to ask Jesus into my heart. Now, I will confess that my motives weren't pure. I felt funny all day and I just wanted to be in the same 'group' as my cousins and brother. So I asked Jesus into my heart. I couldn't wait to tell my cousins and brother. I was in the same place as them again.
Jesus knew what was up, but I think He also knew something that I didn't know yet. I think He must have known that on a subconscious level that I was genuine too. How else could it explain this weird battle over my life in the next few years?
I have decided to tell my testimony in parts because who wants to read a 150-page testimony? Not me. Stayed tuned for the next part. It gets interesting; I promise.