I guess today I am a little more introspective that normal. Not really sure why- just am. Well, I take that back- most of the time when I have my days of introspection I have either a. read/watched/experienced something awe inspiring, or b. Was asked to write or speak or something in which I have to take time out to focus on me. It’s good for me, because I am forced to think of what God has done in my life.
Today Dave asked for a brief testimony. I did one last week and pained me to not be able to find it this morning. So, like always, I sat down and began to think. It’s hard to give an accurate testimony when you have a mere two paragraphs to work with. This isn’t the first time I was asked to give a brief testimony and I doubt it will be the last- but each time I find myself wanting to give detailed story after story of how God has moved in different parts of my life, but is more often than not summarized to sentences like “I am blessed.” I know, cliché. So- In honor of those untold stories- I bring you segments of my testimony.
Ehhh emm…
Looking back into my high school years, I laugh at my dramatic application to life. After accepting Christ at 15, I instantly labeled myself the victim. Growing up in the “non-church going” environment I played it up as if I a victim held captive in my own skin. I looked down on my family, and their “non-Christian” ways regardless of how loving and capable they were. I was one of those kids who constantly journaled, and wrote sad poetry, who fought and picked at the world around me. I complained at the drop of a hat and had little regard for others.
Looking back at the mental qualities that I possessed I find it hard to believe there was a youth leader who could care—but there was.
The Barth family loved each one of us kids—even when we were unlovable. When we fought, and disagreed, when we hated each other- they loved. When we rode to King’s Island fighting over whose music gets played and bickered at the drop of a hat. They kept their house open to us at all times, when they knew that we were less than loyal to them, when we were undeserving, even when they were having problems themselves. There wasn’t a wrong question or something too stupid to talk about they were above all—our friends.
I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that over half of that small group that met in high school is serving in some capacity of ministry. I just don’t. I give credit to the couple, who above all, listened to God and not everyone around them. Who were real with us, and didn’t use church terms, that answered our questions with their heart- not a manuscript, or just scripture without explaining it to us.
Through their ministry- a passion was ignited. They introduced the idea of having a relationship with God, not just a religion about Him.
Their ministry was life changing.
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Today Dave asked for a brief testimony. I did one last week and pained me to not be able to find it this morning. So, like always, I sat down and began to think. It’s hard to give an accurate testimony when you have a mere two paragraphs to work with. This isn’t the first time I was asked to give a brief testimony and I doubt it will be the last- but each time I find myself wanting to give detailed story after story of how God has moved in different parts of my life, but is more often than not summarized to sentences like “I am blessed.” I know, cliché. So- In honor of those untold stories- I bring you segments of my testimony.
Ehhh emm…
Looking back into my high school years, I laugh at my dramatic application to life. After accepting Christ at 15, I instantly labeled myself the victim. Growing up in the “non-church going” environment I played it up as if I a victim held captive in my own skin. I looked down on my family, and their “non-Christian” ways regardless of how loving and capable they were. I was one of those kids who constantly journaled, and wrote sad poetry, who fought and picked at the world around me. I complained at the drop of a hat and had little regard for others.
Looking back at the mental qualities that I possessed I find it hard to believe there was a youth leader who could care—but there was.
The Barth family loved each one of us kids—even when we were unlovable. When we fought, and disagreed, when we hated each other- they loved. When we rode to King’s Island fighting over whose music gets played and bickered at the drop of a hat. They kept their house open to us at all times, when they knew that we were less than loyal to them, when we were undeserving, even when they were having problems themselves. There wasn’t a wrong question or something too stupid to talk about they were above all—our friends.
I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that over half of that small group that met in high school is serving in some capacity of ministry. I just don’t. I give credit to the couple, who above all, listened to God and not everyone around them. Who were real with us, and didn’t use church terms, that answered our questions with their heart- not a manuscript, or just scripture without explaining it to us.
Through their ministry- a passion was ignited. They introduced the idea of having a relationship with God, not just a religion about Him.
Their ministry was life changing.
