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 Posted: Sat Jun 23, 2007 10:21 am
I had a pretty much okay life (I got teased a lot, which wasn't all that bad because I had the courage to stand up to it...then) until fall of 6th grade when I went in to get a sports physical. I found out I had scoliosis and my parents made me go to a cyropractor (which is part of the reason I think I ended up in summer school that year, I had hardly enough time to do my school work, I spent 3 hours there about two days a week). I ended up having spinal fusion that July. After a lot of perserverence I got out of the hospital in four days (my reason: I didn't want to be in the hospital when One Piece came on that Saturday xd ).
7th grade I had to have all my class crammed in to before lunch, when I was allowed to go home (I didn't have an elective the first part of the year, I had one the second part though). Seventh grade was when I started to notice the bit of sadness I was having during the school year (it disappeared over the summer).
The summer between 7th and 8th grade though was when I decided I want to be a youth pastor. My church sends the teenagers to a christian camp every summer and the speaker one of the nights told us a story about how they did a VBS for kids in a really run down part of this one city. That friday when they were going to tell the kids about Jesus dying on the cross, a gang war started and they had to leave. While we were doing the last song in worship I was crying. I guess you could say I didn't want that happening to another group of kids, which I guess inspired my desicion.
8th grade was when I was at my lowest. That October a kid made fun of me in Spanish, twice and I ended up crying and my two friends in there stood up for me. The second time though one of the popular people stood up for me as well. My sadness got worse and worse when I was at church events (I started feeling left out, we had a Good Friday lock in and I was crying ((the lock in was on my birthday to)) ). I didn't understand why I was upset but it got so bad that I thought about cutting and I had thought about suicide.
May was the final straw for me when one of my friends had said that I had started a rumor about her and another friend being gay, which I never did. Then during fourth period that day I found out that my new friend, the new girl had made friends with this girl who has hated me for no reason since third grade, so I figured that I might as well apologize for whatever I did so that my friendship between me and my new friend didn't end. So, I go and I wait for my friend to get out of her 5th period (Girl A) and the mean girl comes up (Girl B). So I walk up to Girl B and I say, in the nicest of tones, "Hey, I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you mad at me. Forgive me?" Then Girl B says, "No your not forgiven!" Then another friend of mine (Girl C) walks up, dropping her stuff off at the class she has after lunch. She sees me crying at says, "What's going on here?" Then Girl B says, "None of your business!" Girl C: "It is my business because Tsunade's my friend!" Meanwhile I'm walking away and my arm gets grabbed by someone else, Girl D who says "What's wrong? Is it Savannah (Girl B)?" I nodded and she went to yell at Girl B.
Finally the last week of school I go into the counsler's office and my emotions exploded. I told the counsler everything about what had been going on since I had back surgery. When I told her about my thoughts about cutting and suicide she made me call my parents because apparently she has to call the parents if I child says something about that. So it was decided that I would go get counseling from my youth pastor over the summer.
My experiences have made me realize that I can talk to my parents about what is going on in my life and that I am loved by my friends, family, and my hevanly father. heart
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Posted: Sun Jul 01, 2007 9:13 pm
ummm i dont think ill put in all the detials but if you want em you can pm me...
so i always grew up going to church and saying i was a christian but never really new what it ment to accept god into my heart. But just before christmas last year one of my best friends killed him self, this completely destroyed what ever faith in god i had. i got really really depressed and sorta moved away from everything positive in my life, i began drinking, cutting and doing a few kinds of drugs, this carried on for a few months but then that summer my parents forced me to go to church camp, i didnt want to go at all but i figured it would be better than another day around here. so wile i was at camp i met a guy from my church whos a year older than me named Isaac. now most of the people around my age at my church some what new about my habbits and did there best to avoid me for it but the first night Isaac randomly walked up and hugged me. this probally didnt mean much to him cause he hugs everyone, its sorta his thing, but to me it was freakishly confusing because when everyone else had turned on me he comes out of no wear and actually manages to make me feel special. Isaac is one of those people that is so amazingly dedicated to Christ that it really made some one like me, who at the time was a nonbeliever, wonder what it is that could make a person be like that. so over that week i prayed with Isaac and some other leaders of my church and accepted christ into my heart! =D sence then ive really done alot to turn my life around, no more dugs, cutting, or drinking!
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2007 7:36 am
Here it goes...
I grew up in a christian home....always went to church....dad was the head deacon mom was always there....a good life you know? Well I went to a pre-teen camp when i was in 6th grade. We were in bible study and the man said that we were going to talk about getting saved. So once I heard that word my heart started pounding and I was like....I really need to get saved. So at the end, it was lunch and everyone else in my group kept wanting to get there early but I didnt care. He said if anyone wants to get saved raise your hand (no one was looking) I did and we met after they had all left. He said that he wanted me to say a prayer instead of him...I said a prayer asking Jesus to forgive me and come into my life. After that I was SO happy.
-Joel
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2007 6:54 am
This is probably quite long, but here it goes:
I grew up in a Christian home, started my education in a private, Christian school, and attended a Baptist church right down the street all my life. I went to church everytime the doors were open, accepted Christ as my personal Lord and Savior when I was 6 or 7, was baptized at age 8 (once I quit fearing I would drown if I got in that water). I participated in every activity available: Vacation Bible School, Sunday School, 11am Worship Service, Children's Choir, Bible Drill, both children's and youth, Praise Team, fundraising for youth group trips, went on the youth trips, preached at a YouthNet, worked Sports Camp and VBS. Even after I got moved to public school in third grade I carried my Bible to school with me and could be seen reading it at lunch and during recess. I was teased about how I never got in trouble and always behaved. I was called Bible Girl and Jesus Freak. And by the time I reached the 7th grade realized that the Bible I was carrying and reading was killing my social life. I realized that courtesy of my one new "friend," who was always putting me down to make herself look good. But, she being the only one who would talk to me and listen to me, I clung to her and ditched the Bible at school. Slowly I started hanging out with her more and more, even if it meant ditching church every once in a while. She teased me and teased me about how I wouldn't ever say a cuss word until I started cussing more than she did.
And then my freshman year of high school began. I was feeling more and more at home on the social scene and getting less involved in church by the week. I was determined when I went to high school not to get involved in partying or drinking or drugs or sex, but to have a lot of friends and be popular. So that first day of school I resolved to meet at least one person in each of my classes. Which I did. And I became closer friends with their friends in some cases. I had a clean slate and nobody in the school knew about how I used to not cuss, wear only clothes my mom and grandma picked out, and carried a Bible.
Halfway through the schoolyear, shortly after Christmas break, my dad started acting strange. My mom and dad were not happy together and had not been for a while. She started college when I was in third grade, and she was always busy either with college work or later with her students at the middle school where she taught. They had resolved to stay together long enough to get all of us kids graduated. My dad was depressed and relied on my mom to keep him happy. When the marriage fell apart and she got out and had a life apart from him, he got mad and more withdrawn. And he finally turned to me. I wasn't close to my mom or anyone in the family. I didn't like how she pushed us aside to do her schoolwork all the time and yelled if we made too much noise. I had gotten to where I was closer to my dad. He would go bike-riding with us and play with us (my sister, brother and I). Well, he knew I had few friends, and he knew I was the quiet one that wouldn't say anything. When I procrastinated doing the dishes one day, he decided it was worthy of spanking me. But he didn't really spank me. It wasn't hard enough or painful enough. And he made me strip from the waist down to do it. Over the next 6 months, he gradually progressed to making me strip from teh waist down and walk around the house like that in front of him when nobody was home, which was nearly all the time, as punishment, to embarrass me. Being as insecure with my newly developed body as I was, it worked. I also started to believe that I was the most horrible person to walk the face of the earth, that all I did was start problems for everyone, and that I deserved to be punished. I grew depressed myself. I withdrew from my friends and the social life I'd finally achieved that I'd wanted for years, and was angry to realize nobody noticed and those who did didn't really care. I was angry to see how everyone could go on laughing and smiling with their lives, like nothing was wrong, while my life fell apart. My dad stopped even saying it was punishment after a while, and as soon as everyone was gone made me strip. He noticed my uneasiness with it and started giving me candy and stuffed animals for it. He started to pin me in the bed next to him while he took a nap. He noticed my continuing uneasiness when I asked him why he was doing it and he said he wanted to look at my cute butt. He started to play around with it when he made me strip and he started telling me things like "you're getting too fat." With my insecurities, I listened to him and quit eating. I was continuing to fall into teh darkness of depression and I was beginning to think about suicide. He had me convinced that if I ever opened my mouth and told anyone what he did that my mom would take us and leave him, and I would break the family up. Me. He said it would be my fault, like so many other countless things were "my fault." So I kept silent, but when he did things I would beg him not to. He would continue to place blame on me for being a horrible person, and bribe me with candy and toys.
By March or April, I started drawing little puppy dogs on my paper. Cute, innocent little puppy dogs. By May, those cute little puppies had speech bubbles above their heads, and every single one said "I hate my life." I started it sometime towards the beginnning of April, but by May they were like a disease, covering every sheet of unused paper and filling notebooks. Every second of sparetime I had I was drawing them. May 6 a guy who was in most of my classes who had never spoken to me before noticed all the drawings. We were in 4th period Spanish for two whole blocks because of SOLs. We took a quick test (there was no SOL) and then watched Selena and had snacks that day. He came and asked me what was with all the dogs. He looked at them and I didn't even care to try and stop anyone from seeing anymore. He slammed his finger down on the speech bubble and said "OK, that bothers me. What's wrong?" I said nothing in response, and he pulled a desk up next to mine so that I couldn't get away and was stuck in mine, and said, "That really bothers me, I'm not moving until you talk to me." Not knowing him well, but feeling I could trust him some, I told him about how my mom was always yelling at me and putting me down, how I never got along with her and hadn't since she started college when I was in 3rd grade. I told him about how my sister and brother always put me down and ganged up on me. I told Ed everything except what my dad did, about how I was depressed and how I thought about cutting my wrists and how I wanted to kill myself. I told him about how I used to go to church and how I had wanted to go into full-time ministry at one point, but how that was all long gone. He talked with me for a little bit, then let me watch the movie for a while. We had 2nd period English together too, and we went there after Spanish that day because of the strange schedule, and he just gave me a thumbs up and inquisitive look to see if I was ok, and I nodded. He told me he would be my friend and if I ever needed to talk he would be right there.
My dad stopped around the end of June, early July. Around my birthday. By that time he was not only pinning me in the bed with him, he would play a little with my chest, clothes still on, and he would try and get me to skinnydip in the pool in the backyard with him. I can't look at any of the pictures from Spring Break or that summer to this day, because in every one of them he has his arms around me. He is always holding me. We had an Austrian exchange student that summer, and I can't look at the pictures from what we did because they are with the ones from Spring Break and other trips that summer that include me and my dad. But he didnt make me strip. Probably because my mom was home more because teachers were out of school for the summer too. I hadn't ever told Eduardo about what he did. But when tenth grade was getting ready to begin, I noticed my dad getting that same look in his eyes when he saw me. Terrified of what he would do if I told anyone, I waited until he was sleeping. I got Eduardo to stay online when he was getting ready to go at like 10 or 11 the night of September 3 by telling him that my dad had been doing something to me that didn't seem right, and I wasn't sure if it was legal or not, but that I couldn't talk about it till he went to bed. Eduardo stayed online and waited with me until about 1am. I told him what my dad did, and he defined child molestation for me, and he told me it wasn't right and it wasn't legal, and promised to get me some help. When we got back to school he went straight to the guidance counselor about it, who went to the school psychologist, who pulled me from class the second or third day of school to ask me about it. He notified Social Services, who showed up at my house exactly a week after school started. It was Tuesday, Sept 12. My dad was put out of the house when my mom got home, and we went to her friends for the night while he packed and got out. He went willingly and left the key and everything.
I told Eduardo about it, and for months I was plagued by Social Services and detectives and things. I was constantly questioned about it and pulled out by Mr. ANderson (the school psychologist). My grades were dropping and my depression grew worse. My dad had said if I opened up my mouth then the family would be torn apart and it would be my fault. ANd I believed that. And I was watching in horror as the family did fall apart. Everyone was dealing with my dad being gone in their own way. My brothers reaction was the worst. He was close to my dad as I had been, and he cried and cried because he wanted his dad. He found out I had somethin to do with him being gone and he began to get angry and yell at me during those tantrums, and say he hated me and it was my fault. Everyone seemed to be cracking down on me and putting me down at home because of it. Eduardo was my only support through it. What remained of my friends disappeared, but he stuck with me through it. He was different. He dealt with all my depression, my lack of an ability to sleep, and my fear of being in the house. He taught me about God, and faith, and prayer. He was always telling me to go to God, and pray, and have faith. He told me prayer without faith is useless. He taught me that God would take care of me, and would give me peace and love and support that nobody on earth could possibly match. But I wasn't really open to it for a long time. When my dad ended up in the hospital the following Dec, around Christmas, I blamed myself. He had a brain infection, they thought it was cancer, and there was no way it was my fault. But I had been avoiding him and had gotten him put out of his house, and I beat myself up anyway. He got off the internet for a few minutes and called me and prayed with me to try to show me the peace that it brought. I was calmed for a while but didn't really follow through on my own. I was still running from God, angry with him. I had taken up cutting around Thanksgiving, and getting through the holiday season that year was the worst time of my life. To this day the holidays bother me simply because of the traditions we had within my family and the missing person from them now. By Christmas I was overdosing as well. I was attempting suicide, and nothing was stopping me or slowing me down except Eduardo's patience with me. My teachers grew annoyed as my grades began to drop and I quit doing my work and was always pulled out of class by Mr. Anderson, who only stressed me more. By the end of the year I told him he was only making things worse, to leave me alone and stop pulling me out of class every day. I was going to a psychiatrist outside of school as well, and while I got along with him, I would never open up about my problems to him. I preferred to talk to Eduardo and listen to his gentle guidance.
During the summer after tenth grade, I once again went to Work Camp and YEC with my church group. I met another strong Christian friend that year, John. I talked with him at Work Camp about my dad and why I was so depressed. He prayed with me and for me. I rededicated my life to Christ two weeks after that camp at YEC. John and I talked on the phone every day until school started, and then we still kept up a regular correspondence for a while. He encouraged me and pushed me to God as Eduardo did. Shortly after Work Camp, I discovered the song "All You Got" by Tait. It was on one of my WOW CD's I had never listened to fully before. I decided to give it everything I had and get out of the deep, dark pit I had dug myself into. And I decided to try my best to keep God first in my life and rely on Him. I told Eduardo about it and he was happy, though hesitant to believe it would last. And sure enough, once school started, I grew depressed again. The work load of school combined with the pressure of my home life and absence of church and free time brought me down again. I fell back into cutting, only free of it for about a month. It had become and addiction, as had pain killer. I had to have it. Halfway through 11th grade, Ed's patience was wearing thin and we began to argue. He pulled away from me by the end of the year and my everpresent support was nearly gone. Summer came and I returned to Work Camp. No YEC that summer, just Work Camp. It was a miracle I made it to Camp. John called to see if I was comnig that year and I wasnt sure because I didnt have the moeny. My youth leader at my church worked it out so they could pay for half of my trip and half of my sisters. John's family paid for me to go, and then the church paid for my sister. John and I were on the same site again, and he was encouraging me again. I met his brother, Josh, that summer. And by the end of the week, I was Josh's girlfriend. I rededicated my life to Christ, and this time came out with two people to support me.
Most people will tell you that you cannot possibly know what love is and meet the guy/girl you are going to marry when you're in high school. I would just like to point out that Josh and I have made it a year, and if we are not in love with each other enough to get married and stay together, than marriageable love does not exist. He was patient with me and urged me to get away from cutting. He got me to quit trying to kill myself. My last suicide attempt was in February, as was the last time I cut. I rededicated my life to Christ at Camp again that summer. I had been cut free since a couple months before that. And I was reading my Bible again and carrying it to school. After I messed things up with Ed and he realized I wanted attention and he left me alone, I really started to work things out on my own with God. ANd I still fell. I would fall back into periods of depression and cutting. I still fall back into my depression occassionally. And then he brought me John and Josh. I had completely sworn off dating after what my dad did. I was never going to get close to another guy, I lost my ability to trust anyone, and I hated myself. Josh was patient with me about all of that. He made sure that even the simplest thing, such as holding my hand, didn't bother me or remind me of my dad. He was always careful not to do anything like that that would upset me. He always made sure I was ok, and worried about me and seriously cares about my well-being. He got me to quit blaming myself for it all where Ed had tried and not completely succeeded. He got me to quit hating myself, and when I fell back into old habits I could tell him. ANd he would look at me with all the hurt evident in his eyes and beg me to stop. He could talk me out of hurting myself in about 10 minutes. He would preach a little bit and when he didn't, his brother did. I've never seen anyone care so much about someone else, not even my mom and dad. But Josh cares about me that much, and I about him. He gave me back my dreams of getting married and having kids. It doesn't seem so impossible now. He taught me to trust again.
I never forgot Eduardo's lessons either. What he taught me about trials, prayer, and faith sticks with me still. He taught me about the church game and how church isn't necessary to have a relationship with Christ, and that the relationship is created through individual time talking with God and reading His Word. When the church I had grown up in chose my dad over the rest of my family, and I needed a new church, some of my new religious friends at school provided me with one, and my boyfriend another. West Hampton, my boyfriend's church, is now my home. THe youth group welcomed me, talked with me, and supported me. The youth leader was the work site leader the year I met his brother John. The church was very welcoming and supportive. And there I was assisted in my walk with Christ. Whereas my old church was focused more on fellowship and having fun, West Hampton had a missions night every month, a fun night, two worship service nights, and a night when the girls and boys were split on Wednesdays. The church serves lunches for free on Thursdays to people around there, they go out and pick up kids from the neighborhood to bring in to church on Wednesday. My old church was filled with people who gossipped and raised up those who were sexually immoral on pedestals. My new church focused on supporting one another and going out and helping people and serving the Lord, and was much more Christ-centered instead of self-centered. With the love and support of Josh, I learned to trust again. This also helped with my faith in God, because faith is hard to have without the ability to trust. The church helped me to get more involved in missions work and reading the Bible. I started memorizing verses and putting them to use in my heart. I began praying and talking with God more. I started carrying my Bible to school and reading it every free second I had. My depression faded. I became happier, and friends came to me again. Church became my home and family, full of love and support from so many people I can't count them. And I suddenly grew in my faith.
Not long after my last cutting episode, I found out my boyfriend was off track in his walk with Christ. I was having dreams, visions. I was seeing a lot of stuff I didn't understand, and then him burning in hell. Well, he dropped enough hints for me to figure out that the stuff I didn't understand, the strange language I was hearing, was stuff related to sorcery. I talked to him about it one day. He about broke down, if he didn't completely break down, on the phone when I told him about the dream and he said he knew if he died right then he'd go to hell. He started asking me questions but he had to get off the phone. So I dedicated my night to saving my boyfriend. I pulled out my Bible and prayed and prayed for him, and I started writing a note to answer all of his questions. A couple pages quickly turned into ten and then I finally rolled over and went to sleep. I went to a lunch thing the following Saturday at church and sat down with him with a Bible and I started pointing out verses. He would read them. We didn't need to say a thing, he understood. And I gave him the note as I was leaving for work. He read it and when I got home that night I had a message on the answering machine of him crying and saying thank you in a million different ways. We talked a couple times after that. He stopped what he was doing and he gave his life to Christ. For the couple months I'd been having those dreams, I'd been praying for him and I grew closer to Christ through the need to help him.
I'm not going to say that I am completely free from my depression. I'm still happy and bubbly one second and rock bottom depressed the next sometimes. But those times are becoming fewer and fewer. I've seen my dad three times in two weeks, once when I was 200 miles away and thought I was safe. And I'm still smiling and happy. I got back from Work Camp, and my boyfriend and I are reconstructing our relationship because we think we went further than we should have (we did not go all the way and are both still virgins). We both rededicated our lives to God while we were there. I've realized that rededicating my life to God should be done on a daily basis when I wake up in the morning. Following God requires a concious effort. There are still things that are just beyond my line of sight. I still have trouble around other guys and hide behind my boyfriend for protection sometimes, especially if the guy is openly perverted. I'm not so unhappy after I see my dad, and knowing that he needs help, maybe one day I will talk with him about what he did, and how he hurt me, and about God. I'm not completely healed, but I have faith that one day those things that are just out of reach will be within my grasp if they need to be. God will take care of it, and He'll be the bridge to get me over the troubled water to where I need to be. I live my life 110% for God now, and I'm so much happier for it. All the doubts I had that he existed and cared when I was depressed faded, and I'm going to college with a definite vision of where I should be in 5 or 6 years. I am going into youth ministry, so I can help others in my situation. I'm working on writing a book about what I've been through and learned over the last four years. And I might even, God-willing, become a speaker at some event like YEC or any other big camp I've been to. If I do though, it's going to be because God wants me there, and not because I want to be there. I despise public speaking and would need his help to get me through it.
If you have any questions or comments, you can PM me. I'll be glad to answer them. Sorry this ended up being so long.
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Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2007 5:04 am
okay...for 13 years i went to one church and only one church. every week, only missing if i was sick or if the weather was reeeeally bad. i figured i was a Christian cuz i went to church. (i didn't know the question "being in a garage doesn't make you a car...so why should being in a church make you a Christian?") then dad got into some fight with either the pastor or the worship team leader or whatever and he left. me, seeing a way out of being dragged to church everyday, left too. (in my defense it was also partially because i was diagnosed with a panic disorder and it was too hard to stay in church...). then my brother left until finally my mom was the only one going to church on Sundays. finally she left, regretfully admitting that the church she had attended for 16 years was dead. She heard about another church and started attending that one, an Assemblies of God church. (Assemblies of God, A/G, is a Pentacostal denomination.) This church was convinentially down the road from our house....i began attending and my first summer there ('05), i went to camp for the very first time ever in my life. now, i don't know if you've ever been to a teen camp with your entire district, but having 200-something teens worshipping and crying out to God is insanely powerful. i was up at the altar, praying that God would use me. through a series of events in May and June (camp was in July), God was opeing these iiiiiitty bitty doors that began to pave the way to my prayer that night on July 18th. i prayed that God would allow me to be a missionary, to go out among the nations and bring His people home. after i was done, i went to the back of the chapel and just stood there. this guy just walks right up to me. now, i had seen him earlier during worship but i didn't know him at all. he just came right up to me, held my by the shoulders and spoke in my ear (it was reeeeally loud lol), "God told me to tell you that you will go out among the nations and lead thousands to Christ." i like started screaming i was so overwhelmed. i was crying (the good crying...) and i couldn't stop i was so happy......July 20th i completely surrendered my life to Christ.
since then, God has given me an unbelievably strong love/passion for missions. November is missions month for the A/G churches across the world...so in short November=favorite month blaugh . there are two missionaries to Israel that i literally call "Ima" (Mother in Hebrew) and "Abba" (Father in Hebrew) because i am so close to them. i am also close to a missionary couple serving France and a missionary who serves in China. i feel called to attend Zion Bible College and become an (stick with me here...) A/G AG Missionary, or an Assemblies of God Appointed General Missionary.
so yes, that is my testimony of how i became a Christian and was called to missions. *note: i don't know anyone else called to be a missionary....it is very lonely being the only one who has such a heart for missions....if anyone else shares this love, PLEEEEEEEEEEASE PM me.....thank yoooou.*
i think in prayer request im going to write about my mom (hey this post is shorter than i thought it would be...) but yes, that is my general testimony. oh, also, that guy who gave me the message from God? not only was he a college student, but he wasn't even an American! he's from Kuwait and was in America to go to Zion (he graduated this year...) so yes if anyone has any doubts as to whether we truly had never met before lol...
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Posted: Fri Jul 20, 2007 3:49 am
This will be quit long
I was 3 years old, innocent beautiful little girl... It was as if I could do nothing wrong, I lived in a nice home, I had a good mom, but not the best dad, my dad was an alcoholic and worked very hard, he barely had time for me, my mom and my newborn baby brother... One day my dad came home from work and he was very stressed out. I saw him come home and I immediately ran and hugged his legs... He got mad at me and kicked me off, as I layed there on the floor he kicked me more, he leaned down and would punch me while I would lay there and scream. That was the beginning of the rest of my life... My dad continued to do this for 2 more years, he didn't even try to hide this from my mom... I remember my mom crying and begging him to stop and he just wouldn't... finally 3 years later, right after I had started 1st grade my mom divorced my dad... she felt he wasn't there for us and that he cared more about his drinking habit and work than he cared about us... I was attending a private Christian school and was dealing with the divorce pretty hard, I would cry in class and say I missed my mom and the teacher and students would make fun of me... the students would make me crawl on rocks and act like I was a dog if I wanted to hang out with them and when I would tell the teacher about what they would do she would tell me to shut up and go play with them... I eventually told my dad about what the school was doing and he withdrew me and enrolled me in public school...
2 weeks after my dad enrolled me in public school my mom took me because my dad had gotten bad off on drugs and was shooting up cocaine and smoking crack and doing crystal meth and acid... my mom had a boyfriend that became a dad to me, he would play with me and my little brother and take us on rides on his motorcycle and everything... but then one day when my mom was out with my little brother and I was taking a nap, he sneaked into the bed with me and started touching me... I'm not going to go into much detail though... but that started and then he started beating me, he would tell me that he was just being friendly when he touched me and he told me I was being punished when he would beat me... I didn't know what molestation and rape was until 5th grade and when I learned what it was he would beat me and say if I told anyone he would kill me and himself before they could do anything about it... by that time my step dad had raped me 3 times and I finally told my mom... my mom didn't believe me although she knew he beat me... I guess I had grown to not be good enough for my mom because I refused to become a Jehovah's Witness unlike my little brother... my mom chose my step-dad's side and kicked me out of my house, she didn't let me have any of my things and she left me outside in the rain for 4 hours while I waited for my dad to finish doing his drugs and come get me...
Between age 11 and 13 I had been kicked out of my house 17 times, my dad had me smoking weed and made me smoke crack one time, I was cutting my wrists and overdosing to attempt suicide... I had ended up in the mental hospital for depression and suicidal thoughts, one week after I had gotten out I was put living with my sister and her fiancee`, they were both Christians and 100% Jesus freaks... they really cared about me, they were the first people to, but because of my mom rejecting me because I wouldn't be a Jehovah's Witness I was a bit resistant to church life and that's what I needed to live with them... I was a bit rebellious in the beginning, I remember one day my friend was sleeping over and I had had an episode (because I'm bi-polar) and they took my friend outside and left me in my room for a little while, they saw me through the window trying to cut myself, they busted through the door and my sister's fiancee` Anthony grabbed my hands and they took my razor away... they took that so seriously that they took EVERYTHING but my bed out of my room, I didn't even have the screws and bar to hold up my curtains... I was left with a sheet taped to my wall to be my curtains and a mattress on the floor, I thought at the time that they were punishing me and I rebelled more, I started running away and writing poetry that could make someone cry (If you go to my journal you can see some of the poetry) finally there was a youth getaway weekend at the church me, my sister Kayla, and Anthony were attending and my sister made me go, that weekend I got saved and that's when my life began to change, I was so on fire there and the holy spirit was just filling me up, I came home and my life had completely changed, I was no longer cutting myself, I was no longer suicidal, I was finally happy... I felt for the first time in my life... accepted. I never was really accepted before I moved in with Anthony and Kayla...
I stayed like that from October until late December, then I started hanging out with the wrong people and my old habits had slowly raised to the surface and I was once again acting out... finally Kayla gave up, she couldn't handle my bad behavior anymore and I was sent in early January to my dad's house, immediately I was put back into the mental hospital for cutting, depression, anger, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, overdose, hearing things, and seeing things... I got out in 11 days and went home, things had gotten better but yet again it got worse and I was back to cutting, I went one more time in early May and that's when things got really bad... I stayed there for 11 days and got out and the mother of my Godchild brought me on a trip with her and her fiancee`, there I met a man who was 20 who was on of my friend's fiancee`'s friends... me and him slept in the same bed and I ended up losing "my virginity" to him... I felt horrible about it later... a week later I met a guy off the internet and we met at the state fair, my sister had found out I was going to be meeting a guy off the internet and when me and my friends got out of the car she called the man (he was 22), she let him go off to meet me and right after she left meeting him she called the cops... he brought me to his caqr because he "needed to get something out of it" However I never did find out what that something was, when we got close to the car there were police men looking at his car. It turned out he was a child pornographer, rapist, child molester... He was brought to jail and I was brought to the police station and asked questions... they arrested him with computer solicitation with a minor... allot of stuff has happened since then and now I have grown to trust in God more... my dad has quit drinking and doing drugs and I finally get my dream come true... I finally get to meet the dad behind the drugs and alcohol... it is truly amazing that my life is finally going to go right, me and my dad have both started to get back involved in the church, I am being put into karate to help with my anger and depression and things are finally just starting to look up...
If you have any questions or comments my PM box is open...
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 7:24 pm
I haven't done one of these yet, so here goes:
I never really had a really big HELLO moment, just lots of little things. I went to sunday school here and there when I was little, but it was never on a regular basis, and always at different churches. I went to VBS one time at my cousins' church, and it was so much fun. We went to the service that sunday, and I remember crying a little while singing a hymn. I have no idea why I was crying, but I think it was because I knew I should do this sort of thing more often, and I never really got to. Well, after my parent's divorce, I started going to church with my dad. It was really nice to be going to church, and I liked doing it. I really got into Christian music when one day I was changing the stations on my radio, listening for a good song, and one station was playing "There's gotta be more to life." I hadn't heard that song in a while, and so I stopped the dial. Turns out it was a Christian station, and I've been listening ever since. I go to church at my mom's house too now, and I'm really focusing more on God then I ever have. I would also like to say that just recently I was talking to my friend about God, and I asked if she was saved, she didn't know, so I told her all about our sinfulness what Jesus did for us, and she said she believed it, so I told her to repent and pray for salvation, and she did, and I would really appreciate it if you guys would pray that she becomes strong in faith.
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Posted: Sun Sep 09, 2007 4:33 pm
One day I'll tell someone my testimony or maybe type it on here, but not yet. It's one of those things that is too fresh. Some of that stuff still hurts and some of it is still in the progress. All I can say for now is that I'm trying. It's a day-by-day thing, and I'm trying.
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Posted: Mon Sep 17, 2007 12:44 pm
iremembertherain One day I'll tell someone my testimony or maybe type it on here, but not yet. It's one of those things that is too fresh. Some of that stuff still hurts and some of it is still in the progress. All I can say for now is that I'm trying. It's a day-by-day thing, and I'm trying. That's how I was too. It's been 4 or 5 years and I still omit a thing here and there that hurts, but I get the general story there. I've mosted mine already, up above. My main account got hacked, so now it says rrrWorm or whatever it is. But it's me.
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Posted: Thu Sep 20, 2007 3:04 pm
bigbrothertotwo IDK if you would consider this a testimony but my parents think it is...tell me if you think it is or not... Well...when i was 25 days old i had some surgery on my stoumach cause evrytime i ate something i threw it up (the hole that lets the food into your stomach wouldnt open).......Then when i was 8 months old i had Cranial Myopic Surgery on my head, (NOW I HAVE A SCAR THAT GOES FROM EAR TO EAR), because my head was forming too quickly. The doctors said I would have to learn evrything that I had already learned over again, but came out of the surgery the same way I went in just with staples in my head... Once again, my parents think that me BEING ALIVE is a testimony itself... Tell me what you think. that is amazing!!! but how did it bring you close to God?
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Posted: Thu Sep 20, 2007 3:05 pm
[coming soon]
when im done typing, i'll just edit this post.
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 6:21 pm
I'm new to this guild, but I think you should know some things about my past.
I was born in Kyouto, Japan, on September 4, 1990. I was not born into a Christian home, but my father and mother became Christians not long after I was born. I was three years when they had my little brother. I am told I had always been a quiet child, not speaking much and that I stared out into space much. Just thinking, I suppose. I entered school and was fairly normal until sixth year, when everything went wrong.
Since I grew up in a Christian home, I assumed I was Christian. Always had, always would be. I would make it to heaven because I was good. In sixth year, my heart fell because of all the things that were happening- my Jii-san died (grand father, I believe, in English), my father had a close touch on death in an accident with cars, and my life just was not going well. I had always had melancholy and it was getting worse. So in sixth year, I began to cut.
It was strange- I had always looked down on cutting, because it was foolish to cut yourself. But somehow, it just covered the sorrow with pain. I began drawing, listening to sad English music that I understood little of, and barely eating and speaking. This went on for a year, and in seventh year, I was at a point of suicide. By this time, we had moved closer to Tokyo, so I walked into the city and came to a high bridge over a second road. I prepared to throw myself off- it was 11:00 PM. I stood on the rail, coiling my nerves.
It was my best friend since third year, Ryo, that pulled me from the rail. I was so thin by this time that I fell backwards straight onto him. He asked me what I was doing and I could not reply because of the tears. I remember him holding me there on the bridge for a long time, not saying anything, and I was crying. He took me home, and we have not spoken much of it.
The next Sunday, he took me to his church. He was already a Christian by this time and was trying to tell me that it was right. I did not listen until I met the speaker- he loved me. Not like a lover, but like a friend. I did not understand it, but I wanted it. So that cold morning in December, I accepted Christ Jesus.
Three years later, I was growing very much. I had thrown away my sad CDs and I was learning more and more about Christ. He loved me and I loved him. Then, my father broke the news that we were moving to Phoenix, Arizona. My heart fell and rose in the same second- I loved Japan, but I hated what it had turned into. So July of 2007 we moved.
And here I am- my Father loves me and I love him.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2007 8:51 am
... It started when I was born. I was three months premature, and because of it, I've had problems with my left eye since I was a child. My right eye had to compensate for it. When I was 14 my parents divorced. About a year later I went to a braille institute, my retina detatched and I've had numorous surgeries trying to save my left eye. While this was happening, my grandmother was in a nursing home... dying slowly from an undiagnosed problem in her brain. The day I found out... I had just gotten over my 4th surgery. I sat on my floor while my mother held me... and I cried.
That day, I thought of killing myself for neglecting my grandmother. She was woman that had told me about Jesus. And I sat on my knees, thinking about dying... and I begged for Him to forgive me... to take me away. But... He did not kill me. A few days later, I sat at the wake and I cried... asked her to guard my mother... I was not worthy of His love. I had just watched my grandmother die... and had not done a thing to help her.
Today, I am alive because of her. Because God did not let me die. A woman had to die for me to come to faith... and I had to loose my eye... but I know that He'd planned it. He'd cried with me, held me as I bled... and holds me to this day. Here I am Lord, take me and use me.
And Father,
I know You'll never leave me.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2007 7:06 pm
Ok well here is mine.
Ok well when I grew up in a christian home. Most of my earlyest memories are in church. Well I never realy got into it. I mean I knew all the anser and everything but it just didn't realy click. Well in seventh grade I realy got out. I just stoped caring. Well we moved to where we are now (my firist and onaly move). The firist person to talk to me was Jillie. Also she was the one who invited me to the crossing (fun devotional on wednesday. It is. We have skate boarding, vidieo game, ect.). Anyways I didn't realy want to go at firist but eventualy I went and I loved it. I didn't realy pay atenting during the devotionals but I still enjoyed it. Well eventualy we joined the church and went on a regular basis. A few weeks later my teacher, Robby, Told me about church camp. I was sorat ify about it but after all my friends told me they were going I decited to go. Holy cow I couldn't belive it. That place was amazing. I mean we had vidieo game a swiming pool everything. Also everyone semed to intoon with God around the seced day. Well thats about when He started pushing me. I preacher (the paster a church) was just giving these ausome sremons. But every day I kept trying to push Him away. Well that didn't work to well for thoes who have tryed know that that didn't work to well. The last day I was almost in tears when he called us up to the alter to receve Gods gift. Wow let me tell you it was amazing. Well a year went and came and camp came again. I went again this year and things were a bit different. I mean I still felt God there but he was trying to get me to do something eles. Well the last day came again, but this time after they called the people up they asked if ayone is fealing the call to ministry to come forward. Well I'm preaty shure God pushed me out of my chair buecaus the next thing I knew I was up there...Standing alone for a miniet. Then more people and more people came up. So yeah it was a preaty amazing time there.
Well thats it.
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Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2007 6:12 pm
I've pretty much gone to church all my life!
When I became saved, it was on a summer night. My brother and I were sleeping in Mom and Dad's room ( don't ask me why, even I don't remember) and I looked at some of the stuff on my Mother's bookcase. I saw many books, and a ton of wolf statues. At the time I was scared to death of wolves. So when Dad came up to take us to our beds, I asked him what happens after you die. He explained to me the Gospel, and the plan of Salvation, and so an so, in the way that a 6 year old could understand it. After that I felt compelled to follow Christ, and ever since then I have.
But then the gold has to go through the furnace.
Our church's youth weren't saved. They would call me..... horrible things. Things that put me at a distance. I gradually became very cold, unhappy and unsensitive. If you ask my parents, they will say that they had never seen my go through such an oppisite change.
My parents divorced, and both my father and my mother remarried. But my other mother wanted visitation. So every other Wendsday we would go see her. Her alcholic addiction..... destroyed her ability to mother me. Steadily, month after month, it got worse. She would abuse me mentally, emotionally, and ever rarely phyisicaly. Her husband also was an alcholic, which didn't help at all. Whenevr they had a fight, I would be forced to negotiate.
She and I would conflict. Many times she and I would have a fight. Many times it was on a holiday. Christmas ( Eve and the Day) Thanksgiving, Easter. So many times she would violate those important days.
She finally, then, attended AAA meetings and became sober. Those were the best days of my life with her. I actually got to know her. Now that I look back, I see that I am almost an exact replica of her. We both loved music, had the same favourites in many area's. The same sense of humor, so many things we had in common...... Such a short heavenly happiness, suddenly plummeted to one of the worst year/s in my life.
The last holiday she ruined, was also the last day I saw her. It was on Christmas Eve. We went to a hotel. She had promised hat this would be a good expierence, she was wrong. The smell of alcohol filled in the air when we arrived, the smell still has me scarred, I have to resist from breaking down sobbing, even now. We got to swim in a pool, but it had chlorine in it, and made my eyes sting for days. She got drunk, and she said....... absoulutely horrifing things to us. Things that should probably never be reminenced about. When we drove back home, she smoked, but didn't roll down the window. It was a long drive, and I had trouble breathing after awhile.
Once we arrived home, she and I conflicted once more. I called home, and told Mom and Dad to come get my brother and I. He and I both sobbed in our room there waiting for our parents. I went out to get a drink for my brother, and she assaulted me with words. I saw my parents come up in the driveway, and I ran from the house, sobbing. My eyes stinging like mad from all the salty water exiting my eyes. My parents went inside, and my other mother got into a catfight with her. Luckily my fathers seperated them.
After that, every time I thought about her, I would break down. She called a few days after my brother's birthday, and then she talked to me. She told me that she loved me, and cried on the phone, being the Mama's boy I am, I told myself to remain on guard and remain emotionless on the phone, I called her, her name, she always hated that, always wanting to be called Mom.
On December, around 7:00 o'clock I felt a tug on my heart. The first thoughts that came to mind was my mother and death. I shrugged it off, thinking it was just another growing pain. Later that night my aunt called, and told us that my mother was discovered dead, on the couch, around 7:00. She had died from an ulcer, the alcohol had burned the stomach lining, and killed her. Seeing her at the funeral was...... heartbreaking.
The irony is absoulutely horrible. My grandfather died on her birthday..... and she died on his. But the worst part of all, is not knowing where she is now.
After that, my parents left our church that we attended, and not attending church for 6 months, combined with resentment towards God, slowly slided me towards athiesm. Finally my parents found a church. The pastor there preached a sermon on death....... When we went home, I literally ran to my room, and repented of my sin. I stayed up there for awhile, leaving my parents to wonder what had happened. I came down later, telling them about what happened.
Ever since then, I have been living my life for Christ. Every day I drive into his word, I strive to learn more about God. I hope others will too.
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