This almost didn't get posted. It probably shouldn't be. But here it is anyway... because I have to post it. Does that make sense?
I was asked to write a testimony for a thing I'm going to do in August. I wrote this. For what it's worth.
Oh, and it's not very funny. Consider yourself warned.
Not all who are raised in the church embrace it, and not all who call themselves Christians are sons and daughters of Christ in anything more than words. I’m proof of that. My life may have looked clean on the surface, I may have looked like a Christian, but I wasn’t.
I am… was… the son of a preacher. I was born and bred in the church, its walls were my home, its rules my creed. But I wasn’t a Christian. Not really, not in anything but name. To be a Christian means to love Christ so much that you allow Him to change you, to alter the way you live. Some people call themselves Christians but cut out his rules. It doesn’t work. Some people call themselves Christians but don’t love, and by that I mean don’t talk to, don’t understand, don’t care about, Christ or His children. That doesn’t work any better. I was the latter type.
What was I? Self absorbed and all that that entails: selfish and bitter and angry because I was selfish and bitter. I was the guy sitting in the back corner of the room, hoping for the shadows to hide him. I was the guy who stood alone in a crowded room, to concerned with how much I hated myself to love other people… or love Christ. Everything and everyone made me angry. I didn’t trust myself, and, by extension, didn’t trust the world or anyone in it.
But don’t take my word for it. Asked to describe me in one word, my two best friends in high school said this (without so much as a pause): cynical. That’s not a word that should describe any Christian.
What place does cynicism have with the message that Christ rose triumphant? What good can be found in looking only for the dark and evil in life? Cynicism (and the sarcasm that so often accompanies it) has no place in the kingdom of God because its very presence in a person denies the hope of salvation in Christ.
That was me, but it’s not me anymore. I’m not going to tell you that choosing Christ over myself made me instantly happy, showered me with money, and made me incredibly popular. That didn’t happen. I’m still shy, still find myself drawn to corners. And I’m not happy all the time. Golden rays of sunshine do not follow me around. I am alive, so, by extension, I hurt and I worry and I do a great many other unpleasant things.
The difference is this: I hope. I have hope, faith, in the saving power of Christ. I have hope for the redemption of mankind. I look at the world, war torn and bleeding, and know that it doesn’t have to be this way. What’s more, it won’t always be this way.
No matter how empty or crowded the room, I’m never alone. I’m not going to call Jesus a friend - that’s trite and demeans Him by putting Him on my level - but I will say that I have a relationship with Him. I, Tom, have a relationship with Christ.
That’s it. That’s my grand testimonial. My life in Christ, in a nutshell. I didn’t go from a drug addict to become a philanthropist. What happened to me was more subtle. I was dead in every way that really counts, and now I’m alive. So, that's something.
I was asked to write a testimony for a thing I'm going to do in August. I wrote this. For what it's worth.
Oh, and it's not very funny. Consider yourself warned.
Not all who are raised in the church embrace it, and not all who call themselves Christians are sons and daughters of Christ in anything more than words. I’m proof of that. My life may have looked clean on the surface, I may have looked like a Christian, but I wasn’t.
I am… was… the son of a preacher. I was born and bred in the church, its walls were my home, its rules my creed. But I wasn’t a Christian. Not really, not in anything but name. To be a Christian means to love Christ so much that you allow Him to change you, to alter the way you live. Some people call themselves Christians but cut out his rules. It doesn’t work. Some people call themselves Christians but don’t love, and by that I mean don’t talk to, don’t understand, don’t care about, Christ or His children. That doesn’t work any better. I was the latter type.
What was I? Self absorbed and all that that entails: selfish and bitter and angry because I was selfish and bitter. I was the guy sitting in the back corner of the room, hoping for the shadows to hide him. I was the guy who stood alone in a crowded room, to concerned with how much I hated myself to love other people… or love Christ. Everything and everyone made me angry. I didn’t trust myself, and, by extension, didn’t trust the world or anyone in it.
But don’t take my word for it. Asked to describe me in one word, my two best friends in high school said this (without so much as a pause): cynical. That’s not a word that should describe any Christian.
What place does cynicism have with the message that Christ rose triumphant? What good can be found in looking only for the dark and evil in life? Cynicism (and the sarcasm that so often accompanies it) has no place in the kingdom of God because its very presence in a person denies the hope of salvation in Christ.
That was me, but it’s not me anymore. I’m not going to tell you that choosing Christ over myself made me instantly happy, showered me with money, and made me incredibly popular. That didn’t happen. I’m still shy, still find myself drawn to corners. And I’m not happy all the time. Golden rays of sunshine do not follow me around. I am alive, so, by extension, I hurt and I worry and I do a great many other unpleasant things.
The difference is this: I hope. I have hope, faith, in the saving power of Christ. I have hope for the redemption of mankind. I look at the world, war torn and bleeding, and know that it doesn’t have to be this way. What’s more, it won’t always be this way.
No matter how empty or crowded the room, I’m never alone. I’m not going to call Jesus a friend - that’s trite and demeans Him by putting Him on my level - but I will say that I have a relationship with Him. I, Tom, have a relationship with Christ.
That’s it. That’s my grand testimonial. My life in Christ, in a nutshell. I didn’t go from a drug addict to become a philanthropist. What happened to me was more subtle. I was dead in every way that really counts, and now I’m alive. So, that's something.
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