my story, pt 1

Disclaimer: This is hard for me to write out. Not because I am ashamed of my story, but for reasons that are hard to articulate. I’ve never “published” my testimony for the world to see. I’ve simply shared it with friends and those who ask about it. Only recently have I decided that I was going to step out and pretty much totally expose myself to whatever you may say or think about this testimony of Christ. I will share the majority of my story, but some details will be left out because they are too personal to share. Don’t worry though you will get a large overview of my testimony and life after becoming a Christian. My goal with doing this is not to receive the glory, but to show you how powerful and faithful Christ is. May all the glory go to Him. Here goes nothing something.

You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.  No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father. Matthew 5:14-16

Kristen, Pre-Christ   

As a Southern Baptist, I was basically born in the church. The old ladies rocked me to sleep as an infant in the nursery. I learned how to make edible play dough in wee school and had all kinds of awkward moments as a middle schooler in the youth group. I was there any day the church was open. Not necessarily by choice, but with parental influence. I remember praying to accept Christ at an early age. I believe it was around the age of 8. I can remember what I was wearing as I was talking to my pastor about what exactly I was getting myself into. It was blue jean overalls with strawberry embellishments all over it..thanks mom. As a child, I knew that there was a God. I knew the Easter story and truly believed it. I knew there was something bigger than me, but I didn’t fully understand what He exactly saved me from. I was 8; my only worries were what I was going to eat at lunch and if the boys would let me play with them at recess. It didn’t seem like I need saving from anything. Needless to say, I was still a sassy, mischievous child. There wasn’t really a change after praying a simple prayer to accept Him as my “Savior”. When I look back now I can recall how angry I was when my dad would force me to stand during worship and mouth the traditional hymns my church sang.

I can recall watching my brother and dad fighting and thinking that I hated my dad for being so “hateful” to my brother. It wasn’t until I was older and a bit more mature that I realized it was two sided. Neither my brother nor dad was exactly innocent. I say that to emphasize the hate that started in my heart at such a young age. I believe experiencing those instances spurred my rebellion. I didn’t want to be around my dad because of what I witnessed. Let me go ahead and say, I have a dysfunctional family. Let me also go ahead and say, there isn’t anything wrong with that. We are still a family and a unit. We just have strong personalities that tend to buck up against each other sometimes. We are loud and quite proud of it. That’s all I’ve ever known about how a family should operate. The idea of sitting down and discussing our issues in a quiet voice is more foreign to me than eating escargot in France.

That was a silly analogy, but you get my point. We usually yelled, slammed doors, and acted like wild people, but I’ve come to terms with that. We have all matured significantly since my childhood. Back to the story at hand, because I witnessed all of the craziness that would happen within our house I didn’t want a father figure that disciplined me or even took notice in me if that’s how it was going to happen. So then the rebellion began..

 

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