Truthlover
July 19th, 2008, 03:40 AM
Guess the best place to start is to introduce myself...:wave
A little about me and how I came to know Jesus:
I was not born into a church-going family. Rather, I was born into a rather dysfunctional situation. It was not the worst of the worst, but it really could have been better. I won't depress anyone with the details.
At about age 5, my mother took a spare moment to tell my sister and I about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The very mention of His name made me afraid, and full of awe. (My family was not atheist, or of a pagan religion. It was more one of those believing but not caring situations. My parents believe in God, but have always treated their faith as something that is to stay on the sidelines of one's life. Spare moments are taken to acknowledge the Lord, but not much more than that.) Soon after that, I got my first children's Bible, and was absolutely fascinated with it.
At around age 7, I saw a movie called "The 7th Sign" (which I now know to be grossly inaccurate as far as prophecy is concerned). This sparked my interest in end-times events. I found my mother's old Bible, years unused, and began to attempt to read it. It was a KJV version, and the old English made my poor little eyes hurt. So, later, when we were out shopping, I asked my mother to buy me a more advanced children's Bible. I spent hours reading through it. It was still not the complete picture, but it fed my craving for prophetic knowledge all the more. I often found myself daydreaming about what it would look like when Jesus comes back, and trying to imagine what it would be like to meet Him face to face.
Sadly, at around the age of 10, my fascination with the Word had temporarily faded. By the age of 11, I was arguably agnostic. I knew that there had to be some kind of divine being, but was not willing to say who or what. Worse yet, by the age of 13, when my parents' divorce proceedings had just gotten underway, I began to dabble in a small amount of what I now understand to be witchcraft. Of course, at that time, I was in complete denial about that. As far as I was concerned, it was just my way of searching for the truth. (Dark room with several lit candles and chanting....to whom I did not know.):ohno
Now comes the good news. While I was lost in my witchcrafty searches, I began to feel really empty inside. I knew something really important was missing, and I just could not figure out what. During the second semester of my freshman year of high school, I made a new friend. It wasn't uncommon in my school to talk about religion. (Really, considering how things are now, I'm amazed that more people weren't offended. That school's number of witches and born-again Christians were about equal.) One day, at the end of the school year, the subject of the end of the world was brought up with the kids I sat near at my art class. One of those kids was my new friend. For me, it was like someone had struck a match in a cave. My interest in the matter was rekindled, and my new friend had a lot to tell me about it.
I began going to church with this friend, and two months before my 15th birthday, I accepted Jesus as my personal savior. From then on, my study of end-times events has been on overdrive. It was none too soon, for times became extremely difficult for my mother and I. Without my new-found faith, I don't think I could have come out of that time sane.(Extreme money difficulties, family alcohol problems, mind games of divorced parents, etc.)
I would like to be able to say that I never found myself in a lukewarm period, but unfortunately, around the time I graduated from High School, that is exactly where I stood with God. Lukewarm. Disgusting. The things of the world had distracted me terribly. Namely, an obsession with wanting to have a boyfriend, and wanting to have more money. The fact that many of the people I went to church with looked down their noses at my family didn't help. They told my sister that she was going to Hell, and actually seemed to enjoy doing it. (No message of salvation for her. All they seemed to care about was wanting to see God smite a rebellious teenager who had really gotten into witchcraft.) And while they helped us in hard times, that church did it in a far less than joyful spirit.
When I moved out on my own to go to college at the age of 19, I was ripe for the Spirit to move me yet again. Despite being in the top 5% of the class during the first semester, I was forced to drop out due to financial shortcomings. For the next couple of years, I just worked and lived on my own. Living alone, I was given a lot of time to think. Of course, I found myself on my knees begging for God's mercy. Not just for my own errors in going astray, but for His help in forgiving those who probably pushed my mother and sister even further from Him. I found myself crying out "No more! Dear Jesus, if anyone should teach me anything, let it be You alone!"
I tried going to other churches, but again and again found many of those modern-day Pharisees. Finally, a very REAL Christian family befriended me. They were not frequent church-goers, but they were amazingly genuine. SO MUCH of their own time was devoted to serving God, studying the scriptures, and actually trying to be like Jesus. When I told them about my sister, they did not speak harsh or condemning words about her. They expressed sorrow over how the Enemy has manipulated her, and promised to pray for her. Anytime I visited them, I had a feeling of perfect peace.
I cringe to think about it, but apparently, I still hadn't learned my lesson. There was another friend that I had made, whom I was trying to lead to Jesus. I spent three years witnessing to and comforting this person, only to be dragged down by her and a few of her friends. I moved in with them, and was used in more ways I care to mention here. When I finally moved out, about a year ago, I can honestly say that I was broken. I was filled with more regret than I ever cared to know about. Once again, I returned to the Lord, and to my studies of the end times. And have become increasingly aware that that time is upon us.
A little about me and how I came to know Jesus:
I was not born into a church-going family. Rather, I was born into a rather dysfunctional situation. It was not the worst of the worst, but it really could have been better. I won't depress anyone with the details.
At about age 5, my mother took a spare moment to tell my sister and I about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The very mention of His name made me afraid, and full of awe. (My family was not atheist, or of a pagan religion. It was more one of those believing but not caring situations. My parents believe in God, but have always treated their faith as something that is to stay on the sidelines of one's life. Spare moments are taken to acknowledge the Lord, but not much more than that.) Soon after that, I got my first children's Bible, and was absolutely fascinated with it.
At around age 7, I saw a movie called "The 7th Sign" (which I now know to be grossly inaccurate as far as prophecy is concerned). This sparked my interest in end-times events. I found my mother's old Bible, years unused, and began to attempt to read it. It was a KJV version, and the old English made my poor little eyes hurt. So, later, when we were out shopping, I asked my mother to buy me a more advanced children's Bible. I spent hours reading through it. It was still not the complete picture, but it fed my craving for prophetic knowledge all the more. I often found myself daydreaming about what it would look like when Jesus comes back, and trying to imagine what it would be like to meet Him face to face.
Sadly, at around the age of 10, my fascination with the Word had temporarily faded. By the age of 11, I was arguably agnostic. I knew that there had to be some kind of divine being, but was not willing to say who or what. Worse yet, by the age of 13, when my parents' divorce proceedings had just gotten underway, I began to dabble in a small amount of what I now understand to be witchcraft. Of course, at that time, I was in complete denial about that. As far as I was concerned, it was just my way of searching for the truth. (Dark room with several lit candles and chanting....to whom I did not know.):ohno
Now comes the good news. While I was lost in my witchcrafty searches, I began to feel really empty inside. I knew something really important was missing, and I just could not figure out what. During the second semester of my freshman year of high school, I made a new friend. It wasn't uncommon in my school to talk about religion. (Really, considering how things are now, I'm amazed that more people weren't offended. That school's number of witches and born-again Christians were about equal.) One day, at the end of the school year, the subject of the end of the world was brought up with the kids I sat near at my art class. One of those kids was my new friend. For me, it was like someone had struck a match in a cave. My interest in the matter was rekindled, and my new friend had a lot to tell me about it.
I began going to church with this friend, and two months before my 15th birthday, I accepted Jesus as my personal savior. From then on, my study of end-times events has been on overdrive. It was none too soon, for times became extremely difficult for my mother and I. Without my new-found faith, I don't think I could have come out of that time sane.(Extreme money difficulties, family alcohol problems, mind games of divorced parents, etc.)
I would like to be able to say that I never found myself in a lukewarm period, but unfortunately, around the time I graduated from High School, that is exactly where I stood with God. Lukewarm. Disgusting. The things of the world had distracted me terribly. Namely, an obsession with wanting to have a boyfriend, and wanting to have more money. The fact that many of the people I went to church with looked down their noses at my family didn't help. They told my sister that she was going to Hell, and actually seemed to enjoy doing it. (No message of salvation for her. All they seemed to care about was wanting to see God smite a rebellious teenager who had really gotten into witchcraft.) And while they helped us in hard times, that church did it in a far less than joyful spirit.
When I moved out on my own to go to college at the age of 19, I was ripe for the Spirit to move me yet again. Despite being in the top 5% of the class during the first semester, I was forced to drop out due to financial shortcomings. For the next couple of years, I just worked and lived on my own. Living alone, I was given a lot of time to think. Of course, I found myself on my knees begging for God's mercy. Not just for my own errors in going astray, but for His help in forgiving those who probably pushed my mother and sister even further from Him. I found myself crying out "No more! Dear Jesus, if anyone should teach me anything, let it be You alone!"
I tried going to other churches, but again and again found many of those modern-day Pharisees. Finally, a very REAL Christian family befriended me. They were not frequent church-goers, but they were amazingly genuine. SO MUCH of their own time was devoted to serving God, studying the scriptures, and actually trying to be like Jesus. When I told them about my sister, they did not speak harsh or condemning words about her. They expressed sorrow over how the Enemy has manipulated her, and promised to pray for her. Anytime I visited them, I had a feeling of perfect peace.
I cringe to think about it, but apparently, I still hadn't learned my lesson. There was another friend that I had made, whom I was trying to lead to Jesus. I spent three years witnessing to and comforting this person, only to be dragged down by her and a few of her friends. I moved in with them, and was used in more ways I care to mention here. When I finally moved out, about a year ago, I can honestly say that I was broken. I was filled with more regret than I ever cared to know about. Once again, I returned to the Lord, and to my studies of the end times. And have become increasingly aware that that time is upon us.