My Testimony

So this is probably going to be one of the hardest blog posts I'll put up because it's my story. I figure if anyone reads this, they should know who's saying it and why. This isn't gonna be the 3-minute version I'd tell someone on a train ride or something, it's the real deal, the extended edition. I promise all my posts won't be this long. Hang with me! Aight, here goes...

I was born and raised into a well-off family in the suburbs of Westchester, NY. Actually, we call ourselves upper-middle class but by the world's standards, we were rich. My family, like many many in Westchester and especially in the small village of Briarcliff Manor, was Jewish. I went to Hebrew School from 7 years old until I was 13 after having a Bat Mitzvah. Judaism was very much of cultural importance to my family (myself included) but the faith aspect was far less important. I remember when I was 10 years old and my Oma (gramma) got sick. I remember not knowing the Hebrew prayer for a sick person and praying all the prayers I DID know (prayers for bread, wine, etc). I felt so completely helpless and I hated it. I just hoped that God understood my heart even if I didn't know the right words.

I can't remember when exactly but sometime probably around 12 years old, I stopped believing in God. I loved being an atheist. It felt wonderfully rebellious, plus all my friends at school were becoming atheists too. The thing was, I lived in a town too rich, too smart, too cultured to need, or even believe in something as naive and outdated like a god.

High School's when the depression started setting in. I started hating myself. I had no motivation to do anything. Working towards something felt useless since there was nothing I wanted to do. Nothing I could think of seemed worthy enough of my desire or focus. There was no point to life. That's when I started torturing myself in the least noticeable ways possible. I ate as little as possible, only when it would be suspicious otherwise. It had nothing to do with body image, it was about hurting myself. I also set my alarm to go off every hour or so throughout the night so I couldn't get a full night's sleep. My point is, I was at rock bottom. At least I thought I was

In 10th grade, I started drinking and dealing pot. I didn't do either very often, it was more of a hobby than a job. I just enjoyed the risk of it.

In 11th grade, I officially wanted to die. That's when I finally prayed...if that's what you'd call it. The prayer went something like this "God, if there's really even a God, which I'm pretty sure there isn't. But God, or Allah, or Buddha, or whoever, I don't wanna live anymore. I want you to take my life so I don't hafta do it. Gimme some disease like cancer or something. But if you haven't done it by the time I get to college, I'll hafta do it myself. Umm...amen."

That summer, I went to Holland for 10 days to play soccer. I played with other girls from all over the United States including a girl named Jordan from North Carolina. After Holland, Jordan and I kept in close contact. She was the first Christian I'd ever met. We talked (argued) a lot about Christianity. I'd ask her tons of questions about evolution, homosexuality (I'd always been a big supporter), sin, and she'd answer patiently and then I'd tell her she was insane. About a month after Holland, I bought a Bible. I had zero intention of becoming a Christian but it was all so important to her (and she was now my best friend) and I wanted to understand what was important to her. Of course, I started at Genesis 1.

Senior year was passing by and my deadline was quickly approaching. On Martin Luther King Day weekend, I went down to NC to visit. I can't remember the context of the statement but I remember Jordan saying "I think that Christians are the happiest people in the world," to which I responded "Yea, well you've always been a Christian so how would you know? Maybe I'm the happiest person in the world." But inside I was thinking "man, I could really go for a bit of happiness." We kept talking the rest of the year and I asked her questions about everything. Why did Jesus need to be crucified? What about the dinosaurs? How can being gay be a sin if they're born that way?

At the beginning of the summer between my senior year and the year I was supposed to start at Syracuse University, I was sitting listening to the song Jesus, Take The Wheel by Carrie Underwood. The chorus goes something like this:
Jesus, take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own

I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I'm on
Jesus, take the wheel
Sitting there, it sounded amazingly appealing. Jesus would just take the wheel. He'd run my life and He was supposed to be God, right? He would do it right and make me happy. So I called Jordan and said I wanted Jesus. She was beyond excited for me. She was staying with her grandparents that weekend and ran to them to tell them. I remember hearing her grampa pray out loud for me and her gramma crying. I couldn't believe it, I'd only met them once for like 20 minutes and they actually cared. I didn't get why it was a big deal to them but I was still happy that they were happy for me. So there was no reason for me to kill myself anymore because I had Jesus now and life would always be happy...

Except it wasn't. I got to school and started feeling depressed again soon. I had doubts in Jesus and God and began remembering old thoughts about being too smart to believe in nonsense like a resurrection or that people were even sinful. People were just people. I didn't wanna tell Jordan that I was having doubts because I didn't want her to be disappointed. She told me that there was a Campus Crusade for Christ on my campus and I should go there. I told her I would (but really I thought it sounded like a creepy cult and thought I'd go there once and tell her it was). So I went and I met a lotta nice people there. We went out for dinner after the meeting and I told some people at my table that I was Jewish and not sure about all this Jesus stuff. This girl Kim asked me if I wanted to meet up and talk about it and I agreed. A month later, I got convinced to go on a retreat.

One night we were singing Mighty To Save by Hillsong and I sat down and prayed, "God, I don't know about all this. If this is real, if You're real, if Jesus is real, I need a sign. God, I'm a science person and I don't like all this 'by faith alone' stuff. I need something tangible. I need proof." And the next second I felt something. This something is the hardest thing I ever have to describe. God hugged me. Imagine love being a tangible item. Like if you could create a blanket made out of a real, physical, tangible love, that's what I felt. That's the best I know how to describe it.

Life wasn't perfect after I accepted Christ. I still had difficulties and I still do. But I have a greater strength now. I don't try and drive my own life. God does that for me. Knowing the power and strength and especially the love of God brings me to my knees in praise (both figuratively and even literally). He has rescued me and THAT is why I want to live for HIM everyday of my life.