My Story

Is a testimony ever really final this side of heaven?

When people ask about my testimony, most want to know about my come-to-Jesus moment.  But ending the story there feels like closing a book after chapter one; the story is only beginning. 

As an old proverb says, more mountains lie beyond the mountains.  In other words, a journey has many hills to climb.  My story is no different, and the mountains ahead deserve just as much attention as those I left behind.

BORN AGAIN

The mountains of Eastern Kentucky held little to do for a teen in the ‘90s—except something I shouldn’t.  So that’s what I did.  Despite being raised in the Bible Belt, my faith was nominal at best.

I smoked my first joint at age twelve.  At sixteen, I tried cocaine.  I hid it well among my family, but pills and more soon followed as friends knew no other way of having fun.  Yet, I couldn’t shake this unsettling feeling.   Looking back, convicted was the word, but I didn’t understand that then —  that cautionary nudge from the Holy Spirit warning me of danger ahead.

While I feared God enough to seek forgiveness, I lacked enough to change. Instead, I made excuses.  For two years, I ran the circuit of sin, confess, sin, and repeat.  I never shared my conflicted feelings with anyone.  But my heart shifted the day a friend declared his own repentance and newfound faith. It was the push I needed.

If he can do it, then so can I.

I weighed the cost for weeks but finally surrendered my life to Jesus.  Something supernatural happened that day, like an invisible weight lifted from my soul.  My life visibly flipped 180 degrees after that.  It was 1996 when everything changed: the drugs, my friends, and my heart.  By the grace of God, I dodged addiction and so much more.  OxyContin arrived on the market the very same year, and the opioid crisis followed shortly after.  I could have been a statistic, but God had other plans. 

PURPOSE-DRIVEN LIFE

I married my high school sweetheart a few years later.  But the man who promised to love me forever ditched his faith and vows in hopes of greener grass.  Painful betrayals and a devastating divorce launched me into a search for meaning and purpose.

I was on my own for the first time in my adult life. Although I had just graduated from nursing school, I already doubted my career choice. I dreaded each workday but saw no alternative. In hopes of a better opportunity, I relocated just outside the mountains. But shortly after, I sensed God calling me out of Kentucky altogether.

Initially, I had no reason or desire to leave, so imagine my surprise and hesitation when God placed San Diego on my heart. I was a small-town girl, so California intimidated me. But I was motivated by a faint impression: If you want more for your life, you must leave. With an inkling like that, I assumed my purpose lay westbound.  So, I packed my car and forged ahead, heart ablaze with hope.

DARK NIGHTS AND DESERT MOUNTAINS

If you think the story reaches its climax here, you’re wrong.  I certainly was.  (Cue the screeching brakes.)  Instead of a pathway to purpose, a spiritual desert awaited.  A wilderness experience that lasted more than a decade as I circled the same dumb “mountain” repeatedly.

My search for meaning—a desire to pursue God’s specific calling on my life—became the idol of my heart. I was determined to find my purpose and be somebody.  I wanted to do big, worthwhile things for God. After all, I hated my career choice.

I was single.  No kids.  I possessed none of the things that seemed to give meaning to others.  So, I thought I had veered from the path and arrived in the desert out of ignorance. 

What was I doing wrong?  Why couldn’t I figure this out? 

But it was there that God revealed His hand; it was not my fault.  He led me there to strip away every disordered desire—everything I wanted more so I could love Him most. Everything that stood in the way of true fulfillment.

Many describe this season as The Dark Night of the Soul. ¹ It’s a dark spiritual process of liberation, a season of such obscurity that you don’t even know you’re in it.  All you know is darkness, silence, and discomfort.  It’s the quiet way God frees us from idolatries to reveal our true nature.² But I didn’t know what was happening.

Until then, the grief of my divorce had been the hardest thing I had suffered.  But this was a whole new level of depth.  Externally, my life was fine.  Internally, I wanted to die.  In the darkness of God’s silence, I nearly lost my faith.

God, where are you? 

Why won’t you answer me?

Why won’t you help me?

Jesus…please, pray my faith won’t fail.

Despite doubt and confusion, I still dared to hope.³  Eventually, the truth dawned: God was not silent; I was just looking for a different answer.  The word surrender faintly bobbed in and out of perception, but I didn’t understand what that meant. I thought I had surrendered.  Isn’t that what I had done in the beginning?  But God gently stirred my spirit until the truth rose to the top.

I was proud.  Angry.  Entitled. 

Not in obvious ways, but selfish, fearful motivations fueled my desires. I cared too much about the opinions of others. I chased happiness and fulfillment while clinging to the idols that prevented it. Then, God posed the ultimate question: Will you still serve Me even if you don’t get what you want?

THE FREEDOM OF SURRENDER

Sinking under the weight of depression and despair, I surrendered my idols in a puddle of tears on the floor.

Lord, to whom else can I go? 

 I still had no answers but was willing to trust the One who did.  To hope not for the results I craved but to crave the One in whom I hoped. 

Something spiritually broke off me that day, and I stood up feeling born again…well, again. So, no.  I don’t think a testimony is ever really final this side of Heaven. More mountains lie ahead. And each hill scaled testifies to the glory of a God who transforms hearts as the altars of our idols come down—a God worthy of our devotion, not just for what He does but for who He is.

What’s your story?

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1. Gerald May, The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection Between Darkness and Spiritual Growth (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 71. ↩︎
2. May, The Dark Night of the Soul, 67. ↩︎
3. Lamentations 3:21-24. ↩︎