Stories

I went on a retreat with the church that I have worked for (my second home). During the weekend, we had a baptismal service in the freezing cold lake. Only the pastor and the two young ladies braved the temperature of the waters! It was beautiful as we stood around the two who were making a public affirmation of their faith and their desire to have Christ as their Lord and Saviour. It was a neat moment for us who watched because we heard the stories that these two young ladies held. Stories of their journeys - their falling away, and their being found again. It was a joyful experience. It was also a community experience.

As I listened to their stories and watched them being baptized, I remembered my own baptism and the story I once told.

I remember that moment as if it happened yesterday. My mom, my step father and I had decided to be baptized as believers, making a public affirmation of our faith. I wore a special blue gown and stepped into the baptismal tank with the pastor in front of the whole congregation.

I read my testimony - I can still picture the handwriting on the piece of paper. I shared of a moment in my life when I accepted Jesus into my heart. I was four or five at the time and I actually do not have any recollection of the event. But my mom remembered an evening when she read me the Christmas story and I requested to ask Jesus into my heart. That was it. My story was simple. I spoke of my loving parents. I talked about my sin and recognizing my need for God. I held onto the pastors arm and plugged my nose as he dunked me in the water.

And that was that. I was now baptized.

It was simple. Undramatic. Yet a genuine proclamation of the faith of a child. That was my story at the time.

I can remember hearing stories of missionaries who had dramatic stories of how God had brought them into faith and how they wanted to share the Word with others. I heard of every day Christians who struggled with drugs, alcohol, living on the streets, or broken family relationships. I remember a moment of jealousy, perhaps even envy. These people had amazing stories. God did wonders in their lives. He performed miracles. I wanted that. But I had a simple story instead. One of kneeling beside my mother one December evening asking Jesus to come into my heart. I wanted a dramatic story.

I think sometimes we don't really know what we are asking for when we ask it. For my story is now one with much drama and at times I wish I had a boring story! Beginning at age 11 or 12, events happened that would make my life very different. I have already written a bit about my thirteenth birthday, a day that is probably permanently etched in memory. My story became one of holding someone else's secrets and shame as my own, and gradually being set free from the imprisonment of someone else's sins. My story includes meeting despair in the face of a seemingly hopeless situation and being lifted out of that by God. My story includes rejection and pain and struggle. Of standing up for truth as the winds blew with all their fierceness in attempts to knock me down. My story is one of struggling to live with integrity as the ones who claim to love me wound me. It is one of pain and sorrow. But also joy and peace and strength and wisdom that come at times when I need them. I was reminded of the words of Joseph who was rejected and tormented by his brothers - "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives" (Genesis 50:20). I know that God will use my story - with all its dramatic elements - to encourage and help those around me.

When I knelt before God as a young girl and prayed that God would give me a dramatic story so that I too could tell of God's power and might, I really had no idea what I was asking for. But I do see now that I have a dramatic story. And like those whom I admire and respect, I will tell my story over and over and over again so that others may see Christ glorified in me. I will share of how he has saved me from slavery. I will share how he lifted me up from the miry clay. I will share how he gave me hope when all I could see was hopelessness. I will share of how even those whom I love reject me, the Lord has taken me up to be his own and one day, when I come to contentment and complete satisfaction with God and God alone, I will share the joy of having God as my first and only love.

I know that I did not really want what was in store for me. I did not know the pain and the struggle that would be inflicted on me or that I would endure because of my own choices. I sometimes get mad at God for allowing me to go through such horrible things at the hands of someone I love and trusted. I may not actually be able to understand fully why things had to happen the way they did. When Job lost everything, God never did tell him why, but he was still able to praise the God who gives and takes away.

I am reminded of the lyrics of the song by Savage Garden called Affirmation. If you go look up the lyrics, know that I don't actually agree with all of the affirmations they make. But this verse stands out:

I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned

I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned.

I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side

I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye.

I do not fully know why I had to have all that meant something to me taken away. But I had an experience recently that was beautiful and amazing. It is one I never would have experienced or even appreciated without all the pain and rejection I have experienced. I was held in the arms of my wonderful grandfather who held me and cried as I cried uncontrollably. He told me that I am his granddaughter and that he loves me. With tears he said he was sorry now for everything. Picturing this moment, I still well up in tears. It was one of joy and beauty that I have never experienced before. It was one of the miracles that I have prayed and longed for. His tears spoke of his love for me. The moment he ran to me and hugged me was the most precious moment I think I've ever experienced. Without a shadow of a doubt, I saw that God was at work and that even though I do not understand his ways fully, this gift of the love of my grandfather was a greater gift than I ever thought imaginable.

Maybe when I reflect on my story in the coming days, my words will be that of Job:

I know that you can do all things;

no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?'

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand

things too wonderful for me to know.

You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me.'

My ears have heard of you

but now my eyes have seen you.

Now my eyes have seen you. Beyond a shadow of doubt. I hope my story will be that.