I never thought I had a testimony; because before stepping into revival, I never saw my need for Christ.
Religion was like an outward cloak I put on…when I was cold, or hurting, or just plain running from myself.
Never did I see that Christ died not just to heal us…but to impart upon us, the great exchange….My sin for His righteousness.
I never really trusted His Sovereignty. Never noticed his hand woven through my every circumstance.
I was of the world view, prior to His Spirit moving; All was chance, luck, and just a natural flow of life happenstances. I thought it was simply my job to “do good”, “make good choices”…be a model for what it looked like to be a polished person.
I never saw my own depravity. I was blinded by my own blindedness. I was caught up in the pride of my rebellion, constantly looking to a state of false freedom.
I needed Jesus. But I didn’t see it, until I dug open Acts after coming home from that missions trip. After devouring scripture and walking smack dab into the middle of a revival swirling in the hearts of God’s people.
It was then the mask came off. The blinders opened up my eyes to what I was. It was then the blood of Christ became full in effect, and the veil was torn in my own heart of hearts.
It was then when I realized I had a testimony.
- I saw as a little girl how God was with me through it all…though I thought that He had left me.
- He showed me how He was Sovereign when I had thought that He wasn’t.
- He showed me dreams I had had that confirmed His love for me…though I was a sad, scared, lonely, and fearful as a child.
- He showed me His grace though I had sinned and His provision through my willful disobedience.
- He revealed His goodness to pick me up again. And again. And again. Even when I would intentionally wrestle from His arms.
And for the first time ever, He gave me a vision as I poured out my heart to Him.
He showed me that I was like the sinner crawling around on my hands and knees begging for crumbs, begging, for something…It was then He came, stretched out His hand, and called me to stand up.
Scripture showed me later how Christ doesn’t only save us, but He draws us up, calls us, touches us with His amazing love….
And after touching us, He calls us to stand, “go” and do like-wise to those around us.
See, He doesn’t just save us, for us to sit comfortable. He touches us with the intention of us giving away, what He has given us.
He blesses us, to be a blessing. He reaches to us, so that we might be His arms reaching to those He places around us.
After all, isn’t our call not just to eat, but to actively search for and feed His sheep?
An eagle soar in front of me as I drive that first day to give my testimony in front of a room full of women.
I shared of my childhood, and about some really poor choices. I shared how I never knew I was like a beggar, until Jesus showed me my dependence on “religion“, instead of relationship with Jesus.
The one who had the testimony of seeing Jesus in prison, shared her story too. Both of our stories were clear pictures of how clearly God still today, set’s His people free.
Afterwards, we both spent three hours praying for the line of women who could relate to us….those broken or lost. Those who had been addicted or taken advantage of.
And not only did I have testimony, but I could thank Him for my suffering, as I saw how God could use my testimony to pave the road to others healing.
And what is it about the broken. That somehow we trust those that have tread the same road that we have taken. We feel like we know, can relate, and almost live from the same place…
And it is in that identification with our past that we can embrace more fully our future.
It is this gripping and seeing, and tasting the reality of what we were…that causes us to rise faithfully and trust The One who constantly is extending His pierced palm to us.
For the first time ever, I was tasting and seeing the goodness of God. I was seeing His power through my brokenness, and rejoicing that if we look for Him….
We can see Him even in our suffering.
I wish I could go back and share with that nineteen-year-old in the bunk in Guatemala….
Who told me, “It’s o.k. if you don’t have a testimony.”
If only she knew….this unveiling, this grace overwhelming that I was now more than certain of…
