Bethany’s Testimony
I grew up in a Christian home and all of my family, immediate and extended, claimed Christian beliefs. I always thought myself to be a pretty good person, and when I was about eight or nine, my Sunday school teacher asked us to say the prayer with her and “ask Jesus into our hearts.” So I did. But it didn’t feel like I had imagined it to. Everything I had ever heard suggested that the feeling would be of joy, wonder, and a weight being taken off your shoulders. This didn’t worry me, however; like I said before, I thought I was a pretty good person. There was no doubt in my mind that I would go to heaven when I died.
I didn’t pay attention in church, or listen to the pastor talking about why we needed a savior, about how sinful we all were. It all rather bored me, and each Sunday, I found my attentiveness slipping in and out of focus. I started bringing a journal to doodle in so I wouldn’t get too bored.
But pretty soon I began to get a bit apprehensive. Everyone seemed to have this obsession with asking if I had “received Jesus” yet. So I asked Him into my heart again. I can’t tell you how many times I asked and still felt the same. But I never gave up; I thought that maybe I just wasn’t being sincere enough.
I don’t really know why I was so persistent and kept asking; I knew I wasn’t bad, that compared to some people I was an absolute angel. Yet something kept nagging at me, worrying me, and I felt that maybe, if I finally “received Jesus,” it would stop.
It wasn’t until the summer before I went to high school that I realized why I still felt empty. Like I have said before, I thought I was a good person. So obviously I wouldn’t need a Savior, because I didn’t think I had any sins to be saved from. Each time I had asked Him into my heart and didn’t feel something lifted from my shoulders was because I didn’t think there was anything there to be lifted. But that summer when I went to a Christian camp and actually listened to the pastor, I realized what a wretched and sinful person I was. I finally began to see how desperately I needed to be saved from my own flesh.
That one week is the most memorable in my entire life. It was the first time I had actually felt God move through me, and realized how awesome His love for me was. It was also the first time that I had asked Jesus to be my Savior and actually meant it; overwhelmed and in tears, I finally felt those sins I had been condemned of lifted off my shoulders. I was so excited and exhilarated that I felt lightheaded. I made a promise to myself and to God to strive to be worthy of His love and be more Christ-like.
When I got back home, however, that flame burning inside me died down to a low simmer. It wasn’t until a few months later, when my mother encouraged us to try out Faith Community Church, that the flame began burning bright once more. I delve into God’s Word much more often and learn about His amazing grace and power with reverence and wonder. Since then I am joyful to say that God has worked in my life in amazing ways
