There are a thousand different ways I could start this blog, and quite honestly I still don't know where to start. I first felt the Holy Spirit move in me when I was 16, shortly after my little brother was born. My mom had invited me to church and for the first time in a LONG time, I agreed to go with her -- partly to get out of going to an archery tournament I wasn't able to compete at due mainly to my sour attitude and partly to my swollen wrist. I was completely overwhelmed during the service and was brought to tears - He was workin' in me. There was an altar call, I raised my hand, I stepped forward, I said the prayer and had a little "meeting" in what I would call the green room afterwards and I thought I was good to go. Then I got home, and fell into the same routine of sin - and while I was still being convicted I pushed it aside. Slowly over the next year, everyone I leaned on slowly got removed from my life - something my "favoritest" cousin, Jeff, had already told me would happen. One of my closest friends moved up north, another of my closest friends died unexpectedly, and while my grades stayed up I fell deeper and deeper into misery as I realized those I depended on for my happiness were leaving in some way. Christmas came and went - and it wasn't a good one. I'll spare you the details, but the comments directed my way were some of the most hurtful I think I've ever heard. December 26th came and I went to the spectrum with my boyfriend of the time and some friends. I remember my purse broke and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. I called my mom in tears and I very distinctly remember telling her "God hates me." I could not be farther from the truth. God loves me. He was just trying to get my attention. Then it happened.
On Dec. 27, 2006 I went to work and had to call my dad to ask him to do me a favor. He delivered the news over the phone - Jeff had been in an accident and was being taken to the hospital in critical condition. My world as I saw it was over. Jeff was the one person I knew I could always lean on - he was always there for me no matter what - whether in this state or another, through telephone, IM, or e-mail, he was always there. He once offered to drive out to see me, just because things at home weren’t good and I needed a hug. God's work in him was very evident. He loved the Lord. I spent the duration of my shift crying. At one point I felt my heart break completely and I knew he was gone or that he would be soon. I walked into the bathroom and fell to my knees...hard. I cried out to God - I threw my hands up and confessed "I can't do this anymore. I need you!" I spent the next year or so reading and trying to learn more about God, Jesus, and His Word - but I was depressed and easily deceived. Sometime in 2007 I got this tattoo, after much consideration and many conversations with Pastor Justin - to symbolize my life had been given to Christ and that I was (and am) a new creation.
However, I continued to live life believing I was saved and living for Him, while I fell deeper into sin. It was about a year later, I don't remember if I was 18 or 19 that I fully gave my life to Christ. I had to go through one more heart wrenching experience to hate that sinful, worldly life so much that all I wanted was to run to the cross. I was completely broken; completely devastated; I was at rock bottom and the only thing I could see looking up was the Cross. God had unveiled my life to me…and it was anything but pleasant. I finally hated sin vehemently, hated where my life was going, and realized that if I continued to deny Christ’s pull on my heart that I would be spending eternity in Hell, rather than in communion with Him, praising Him. I knew the gospel and finally understood why Christ had to be crushed on the Cross for my sins, I knew the pull of my heart, and I could see God’s promises to take care of me displayed in front of me. My life changed for God and it changed radically. He is faithful always. He has taken me from having nothing, to blessing me with more love than I could have ever imagined. A year later, I stood before my church family and declared my obedience to Christ in a water baptism. I continue to work and grow in my sanctification daily and it is all through His grace and Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross that I am where I am today. And while I got this tattoo before I was truly saved - I am glad that I got it. I'm glad that it was my first and while it wasn't true at the time - God still had a hold of me and it is true now.
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." 2 Corinthians 5:17
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