My Journey with the Lord: Pre-Christian Story (Part 1)

A week ago, Ciaran and I were back in our hometowns visiting family.  When Sunday morning rolled around, since we were staying with Ciaran's parents, we didn't feel like making the forty minute drive to my home church.  So we decided to visit the church that I attended when I first became a Christian (since it's about 1 minute from my in-laws' house).  It wasn't that monumental of a decision...actually it was made spur of the moment without much thought....yet that one visit did more to revitalize my affections for the Lord than anything so far this summer.  From the moment I walked in and took a seat in one of the pews, I felt like a brand new believer again.  I remembered how I treasured the stillness of the sanctuary, how close I felt to the Lord as I would open a Bible and read and learn things I had never known before.  How exciting my walk with the Lord was back then when it was all new!  As I've reflected on those feelings, the thought struck me that it might be fun to share my testimony over the next few weeks and where the Lord has led me as a believer so far.  As I combed through the archives of this blog I realized I've never actually shared my testimony in full.  And since  I'm quickly approaching my 11-year spiritual birthday, I thought this would be a fun way to round out the summer. 

Also, Ciaran and I are becoming members of the church we've been attending for the last 16 months at the end of August and part of the membership service includes sharing our testimonies with the congregation.  The testimony I'm going to share with the church is greatly condensed, as in 1/14 of what I will share here (basically just my salvation story), which makes this little blog project even more meaningful to me.  Reflecting on where the Lord has brought me so far always draws me closer to Him and reminds me of His faithfulness.

So without further ado, let's start with my pre-Christian story:

During my childhood, I considered myself to have been (for the most part) un-churched. My mother was raised Methodist and my father was raised Presbyterian.  I remember a short space of time when I was in early elementary school when we attended a Presbyterian church and then another short spell when we attended the Methodist church in my later elementary school years.  I also attended the Methodist church a few extra times throughout my childhood with my grandparents, but it was more out of adoration/devotion to them that I attended, rather than a desire to know God and worship Him.   

Even though I was for the most part, un-churched...I can see evidences of God introducing Himself to me and drawing me to Him all throughout my childhood.  I loved going to the community summer VBS (Vacation Bible School) that was offered in my hometown.  Four of the local churches would get together every summer and put this summer program on, but sadly, I only loved it for the opportunity it provided to catch up with a bunch of my classmates and sing songs and play fun games.  

I also had a number of children's Bibles and I remember playing "Sunday School" with my grandmother during the summer months.  My grandmother would read to me a Bible story and plan a craft project for me to do that went along with the Bible story in between working out in the garden or somewhere else around the farm.  I remember specifically thinking of the Bible as just a collection of "stories" and that the "stories" were meant to provide a moral lesson, much like the fables and short stories I would read in the books I got from the library.

Although, the two above-mentioned remembrances from my childhood hardly testify to knowing God personally and believing in His infallible Word, I do believe these few introductions to the Christian faith were the little seeds that were sown in my heart to introduce me to the God I now worship and adore today.

The defining moment in my pre-Christian story took place in 1997.   It was at this point and time, when I was fourteen years old, that my mom and dad decided to separate. Although I was by no means shocked when they told my brother and myself, I still was at an incredibly awkward and rebellious age, so I didn't cope the best with this break-up of our family.  To say I was one angry, little teenager is a vast understatement.  My desperate quest for comfort began in earnest after my dad moved out and things with my family became very messy.  I was fourteen years old:   awkward, rebellious, and desperately searching for an identity and comfort anywhere I could find it.    I'm sure you can imagine where this is heading...