Thirteen men.
That’s all it took for the greatest message of grace and redemption to spread like wildfire among the nations.
One perfect man to sacrifice, twelve to testify to what they had witnessed.
Through their faith, their obedience, and the word of their testimony, the gospel message came to my small four year old ears, 2000 years later.
That same faith, that same obedience, that same testimony, which saved my soul, cost them everything. Their reputation, their homes, and ultimately, their lives.
I’ve been reading Foxes book of Martyrs, and have been deeply moved by the faith displayed through every disciple as he stared death in the face.
John was burned in oil, then isolated and died on an island, James son of Zebedee was beheaded by Herod Agrippa, Philip was scourged, imprisoned, then crucified. Andrew was crucified, Peter was crucified upside down, Matthew was slain with a halbred. James son of Alpheas was beaten, stoned and clubbed to death, Matthias was stoned, then beheaded, Mark was dragged to death in the streets. Thaddeus was crucified, Thomas was speared, Simon was crucified, and Bartholomew was beaten and then crucified.
The words they were speaking, this testimony, was obviously pretty significant. It was maddening enough to drive the leaders around them to brutally kill, and powerful enough to inspire the disciples to stick behind their words to the very end.
Revelations 12:11 says, “They triumphed over him (the enemy) by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”
Our role in this war is to win the little battles. The disciples modeled how: claim the blood of Jesus, and share your testimony of His love and redemption to teach others to claim His blood too.
So there is no confusion over vocabulary (and because I love to be specific) Webster defines testimony as: evidence or proof provided by the existence or appearance of something.
Evidence. Proof.
That Jesus lived. That He died. That He rose again. That He is alive and working today.
A testimony of truth is a testimony of power, full of evidence, full of proof.
I wasn’t called out of a boat to fish for men. I wasn’t there for the sermon on the mount, I didn’t get to see the multiplication of the five loaves and two fish, or watch as Jesus took the hand of the dead girl and raise her back to life. I didn’t stand underneath His cross when He breathed “it is finished.” And I don’t have religious leaders ready to behead me around the next corner.
But I have a testimony.
And if the disciples have taught me anything apart from the gospel, it’s that any story worth telling comes at a cost.
So I’m gonna pay my price up front- my embarrassment, my fear, my worry is a small amount to pay for another battle won in the Kingdom.
You know that feeling when your heart is racing? That you know something big is about to happen? Wooh!
Alright, here we go.
I remember sitting in one of my Social Work classes at Spring Arbor University, taking notes on abusive relationships. And with each bullet point I wrote down, I stared at the words and thought, that was me.
It’s weird, to objectively look at a statistic, and then to realize that you’re a part of it. It still feels surreal.
I make excuses, I justify it, I don’t feel worthy to be listed among the thousands of woman who are brutally abused day after day in their various relationships, but when I take a step back, I can see the emotional impact, even though there were no serious physical ramifications.
Side note- I’m literally shaking right now. Lucky this blog will cost me calories too. 😉
For years I was told the same message over and over again:
You’re not good enough. You’re not smart enough. You’re not strong enough.
Triggers come out of nowhere, but since I’ve had years to heal from it all, I’ve got a pretty good handle on mine. And still, I’m blindsided by intense emotions that seem to be out of line with the current situation on the surface, but have been stirred up from the tiniest correlations.
When I was asked to be a team leader, I didn’t see any of my triggers coming. For a week we were asked to keep silent about our new positions until teams were announced. On one of the last night, my fear and anxiety rose so high within me that I went out for a sprint to get rid of it. My heart was beating so fast and my mind was racing long after I stopped running, and the fear continued to pump throughout my body instead of staying on the track like it was supposed to.
What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not smart enough? What if I’m not strong enough?
I studied verses about being chosen, about being a masterpiece, about being loved. I allowed my friends to speak truth in my life and I did believe them, for the moment. I got angry that no amount of verses, prayer, or encouraging words seeped in truth seemed to be enough to force my irrational feelings in line. My head knew the truth, but my heart fought back with what it had been told to be true.
The reality is, healing is a process, truth is hard to believe, and we are free to wrestle. Heck, Jacob broke his rib wrestling, and instead of chastising him, God renamed him then limped away, hahaha.
The devil works in the dark crevices of our minds. When our thoughts aren’t exposed to the light, when our testimonies aren’t shared, spoken, or confessed, he twists them. When the reality of our hearts is not in line with the reality of the Bible, and we allow ourselves to assess situations through our broken lenses, and then stay silent about it, we give him more power than he ever deserves.
For months I stayed silent. I wrestled in every situation- is this the right response? Is more required of me here? Are my teammates following me because I am doing well, or because they have to?
Every time I turned around I asked myself,
Am I really good enough to lead well? Can I really make smart calls? Am I strong enough to carry this?
My head knew the right answer.
My heart answered, “no” every time.
Because every place I stepped I heard that tiny voice in my head. “What are you doing, Diana? Why are you so stupid?” I projected my thoughts onto my teammates, and began to believe they must be saying the same things in their heads.
The fear of admitting my inadequacies and fears continued to mount. Wouldn’t it just prove I wasn’t enough?
So I’d go before the Lord. I’d spill it all out for Him, while I lay on the floor, and tears squeaked out of the corners of my eyes and raced each other to the ground. Why am I here? Why can’t I believe the truth? Why am I so broken?
And every single time, my kind Father would whisper,
My daughter, I have made you enough. Be strong and courageous, for I am with you, and I will not let you go. You are enough, and I am so proud of you.
My favorite character in the Bible (besides Jesus, obviously), is my pal Moses. He stood before this burning bush, and was asked to do something he deemed impossible: rescue an entire nation from the hands of an evil Pharaoh.
“Oh God,” he said, “you’ve got the wrong man. I don’t speech good enough. Just leave me in this field with these sheep and find another man.”
I think we all know how that talk went down… a few more big flames later and Moses was on his way to Egypt.
40 years later, Moses entered into the tent of the Lord everyday, and didn’t bat an eyelash about obeying God’s commands no matter what others thought of him. 40 years later, Moses was one of the greatest shepherds of people that ever lived because he let God be his only shepherd.
Why this tangent about Moses?
Because I’ve prayed over and over again to lead like him, and little by little God has been answering my prayers.
And my courage is building.
Not because my friends said the right things, not because I’ve read the right verse, or did the right thing at the right time but because God is answering my prayer.
God hears me, He knows me, He responds to me, and He believes in me.
He’s called me enough, and He has proved it by listening to me and answering me.
Trust has been the biggest mountain for me to climb. For years God has been whispering gently to me, “just trust me, Diana, with this next step.”
And I’m just beginning to be able to say, “I’ll trust you with the next TWO!”
I’ve learned on the race that God prepares us now for what will be required later, and a large piece of me believes my Israelites are out there. Someday I will be as bold, confident, and humble as Moses. Not for anything I have done.
Simply because my God is healing my heart and answering my prayer.
