As I read her story, it was evident that God clearly shook her world in such a way that she could not deny. He was there, He was moving her and He was creating a story that would change her life and lead her to share with hundreds of women through her blog. Through her sin, she found grace and through that grace, God has blessed her with an incredible ministry.
And so I sat and wondered, WHAT is my testimony?
This isn't the first time I've thought about it, wondering what exactly is my story. When did I come to know the Lord. Who lead me, how did I get here. Here, to a place where I am filled with His overwhelming presents in my life. Here where I chose to serve Him, to shine Him, to love Him. Here where I give all of the glory to Him. Hummmmm
I recall a few "ahhh haaaa" moments in life. The very first memory of church was when I was about seven. I attended a church with a (step) Aunt. She would load us up on a van and send us on our way ~ sometimes she would come. I recall the first story I learned about Jesus as well. It was a ministry the church had began years ago. The story went something like this;
There was a little boy who came to church, with him he brought a balloon on a string. When he and his family arrived at the church, he wanted to take the balloon inside. His parents insisted "NO". After a long battle at the car, the mother finally agreed, if they were going to make it inside on time, he could bring the balloon. She wasn't very supportive in the choice, she only allowed it to stop the crying. Because they were late, they were sat near the back of the church, which the mother was absolutely fine with (the balloon being less noticeable). During the "meet and greet" one of the older ladies of the church, being a bid disgusted with the balloon situation marched over to inquire with the boy about the balloon "in church".
The little boy, BIG SMILE (or so the story goes) tells the woman inquiring "I brought this balloon for Jesus. His favorite color is red. I can't see over all of the people, so I brought a balloon so he would see me." The woman, taking a deep breath smiled at the little boy and went back to her seat. The mother, looking down at the little boy, smiled a BIG SMILE. When learning the reason WHY he was so insistent on bringing the balloon, found herself full of grace, pride and joy. The mother sitting and feeling very blessed at the struggle, the fight the little boy put up so that JESUS WOULD SEE HIM. A testimony!
That little boy and his balloon, years later were and still do share a story. On this day when I attended the church, there were red balloons filling the church. I was seven years old and I "got the message" about wanting God to see you. About wanting God to know you are there. Today when I see balloons I think about the day at that church, and think about holding my balloon so that Jesus will see me. What a great testimony!
And here I am again, wondering. When did I really accept Jesus. When did I really come to know him. Who was it that told me the story of grace, forgiveness, love. Of those questions, I am not certain. There have been many along the way who have and who still do share and encourage. But to narrow it down to that moment when I realized "this is my story".... I don't really have one.
And perhaps it isn't really even important how I got here, but more importantly that I am here. That I do love the Lord our God with all my heart. That I teach my children the stories & that I share with my husband the grace, the love, the hope, the faith and the forgiveness of sin. Maybe it doesn't matter at all, my story. No it doesn't. I am certain it doesn't matter. What truly matters is I share the story of Christ taking "ME" out of it. Today my prayer is that Jesus fill me with Him.
"May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." Psalms 19:14
I pray God empty me of the "me story" and fill me with the HE story. That He talk all of me, and fill me full of him. My story, I want it to be HIS STORY. My testimony, I want it to be a daily walk, not a single moment.