Testimonies.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never really liked that word.
Mostly because I never know what to say when someone asks me to share my testimony.
I’ve been a Christian my entire life; there’s never been a “moment” when I gave my life to Christ. He’s ALWAYS had my life, for as long as I can remember.
I don’t have a conversion experience to share. I never prayed a “Sinner’s Prayer”; I’ve never formally invited Jesus into my heart.
I was baptized as an infant, and as far as I’m concerned, that covenant is realer than real. Jesus has been living in my heart before I could even walk or talk.
Therefore, when I was asked by my Botswana host to share my testimony with a group of high schoolers on a Saturday afternoon youth ministry event, I balked.
He pressed on, “You’ve told me your story of struggling with depression and anxiety as a high schooler, I want you to tell the kids. They need to hear your story.”
Story.
It hit me at that moment that sharing your testimony with someone really just means telling your story.
A conversion experience is one thing, but stories are another. Stories are something that I happen to have quite a lot of.
So I nodded my head and even though my heart was racing at the thought of sharing my story with a bunch of impressionable young teenagers, I said, “Ok, sure.”
Sure enough, a few days later, I found myself in front of thirty-some odd kids, eyes all looking up at me expectantly.
I’d like to say I had a big speech prepared, and that I had pre-meditated all the words in a manner which was impressive and clearly-worded.
I’d also like to say that I was the proud owner of a travel-sized French press and that my feet don’t have permanent calluses on my ankles from sitting criss-cross applesauce for four straight months in Asia. You can’t win ‘em all, folks.
I knew the reality of my story, and that’s about all of the preparation I put into it.
I took a deep breath, remembered the word story and the words just sort of flew out of my mouth. I told the only story I’ve ever known:
Childhood was simple, but too quick. Then my mother’s cancer. Then my anxiety. Then depression. Then high school. Then isolation. Then curiosity. Then despair. Then the strong urge to cease existing.
Then the lies from the devil.
Then, continually, after each wave of heartbreak, God always pulling me through and catapulting me into the future. He refused to let me give up, even though giving up was all I wanted to do.
Then one day, He reached out his hands and pointed to me and said, “I want to know you the way you crave to be known. I love you as you are. I love you the way you desire to be loved. I always have and I always will.”
And then, after I told them all of that, I turned and I looked into their beautiful faces. Faces I saw knew all too well the pain of which I spoke.
And then I told them the truth:
I told them that life doesn’t get any easier than it is right now.
But it absolutely does get better.
And that God is the only person who is worth living for.
He cares deeply.
They are beautiful, and wonderful, and powerful, and mighty to behold because they were made in His image, and that the entire time I spoke, He was whispering to me to tell them how deep, how wide, how high His love for each child was.
“The most important thing, guys, is to just keep going. God is watching out for you. He has so much in store for you.
Don’t.
Give.
Up.”
By the end of my story, I was in tears, and my voice cracked with much emotion.
Yes. I’m here to say I did the absolute most uncool thing you could ever do when talking to teenagers, I cried in front of them.
But I just couldn’t help it!
God was moving so much in me to show me just how tenderly He cares and adores each one of them. It was all I could do not to wrap my arms around all of them, but that would have been super uncool, so I managed to keep it together as much as possible.
Friends: Let’s forget the hype and the strange pressure built up behind the word testimony. Let’s go back to the beginning, and instead of sharing those radical conversion experiences, let’s love people by sharing the ugly truth of our broken, yet restored, stories.
Let’s follow that ugly truth with the beautiful love that our Savior gives to all.
Stories are what really matter, and His is the greatest story of all.
To all the amazing, inspiring, powerful G4:12 kids that I met those few weeks in Botswana: I am still praying for you. You are so loved and you have such mighty purposes to serve in this kingdom. I mean it!
God has a plan for you. Your existence is not meaningless.
Just. Keep. Going.
Message me whenever you need to.
All my love,
Hannah.
