In my mother’s womb, my parents dedicated me to God. At six-years-old, I realized I was a sinner, begged for His forgiveness, received His grace, and committed my life to Him. At 15, even when I didn’t understand His call, I surrendered to serve Him in ministry with my life. With our history together, He wasn’t going to let me forget these things and His purpose for me.
When my world came crashing down around me at age 20 and I was left at the merciful hands of the Father, I made a decision to change. Not the kind of change you make and then turn your back on three days later—like when you change your eating habits, start a strict, new diet, and out of nowhere, just a few days later, a piece of chocolate cake walks right into your mouth before you can say anything. It was a change that involved total surrender.
My decision to finally wave the white flag and surrender changed my world. I knew that to truly seek Him, I had to literally move away from the environment that had entrapped me. I had to emotionally pull out my scissors and cut the ties that bound me to that destructive lifestyle. And as I entered the unknown—feeling bruised, beaten, even bludgeoned—I trusted Him again for the first time in a long time.
In 2001, I left my home in Texas and transferred to Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas as a sophomore looking for a new start. Almost immediately upon entering school there, I met and bonded with a small group of girls who embraced me in genuine biblical community. Aware of my tattered state, they prayed for me, picked me up when I fell, and sometimes carried me over four semesters until I graduated in 2002. They became my sisters and remain so today.
It all sounds so dramatic, I know, but it’s not far from how intense things really were. At OBU, I re-discovered a deep love relationship with God and He began a long healing process that lasted the next few years. He was preparing me. So, after my college graduation, when I entered Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and began working at a church in Dallas, I was ready to actually do what God had called me to.
I can honestly say that my time during seminary was challenging. I knew God had called me there to continue my education, but I also spiritually felt a little like someone who had lost the use of his or her legs and was learning how to walk again. However, I had a fresh new perspective on my relationship with God—I was raw, humble, and surrendered to whatever He had planned for me.
During seminary and shortly after I graduated in 2005, I grew spiritually in leaps and bounds. I couldn’t believe I’d never known His love and grace like this before. So I decided I was ready to go deeper with Him and I made the bold decision to ask for brokenness on January 1, 2006. Big mistake? Or even bigger blessing? I asked myself this over and over for the next 10 months. God broke me every way but loose that year.
Just one more to go. Keep looking out for the final part of “Seeking God."
In my mother’s womb, my parents dedicated me to God. At six-years-old, I realized I was a sinner, begged for His forgiveness, received His grace, and committed my life to Him. At 15, even when I didn’t understand His call, I surrendered to serve Him in ministry with my life. With our history together, He wasn’t going to let me forget these things and His purpose for me.
When my world came crashing down around me at age 20 and I was left at the merciful hands of the Father, I made a decision to change. Not the kind of change you make and then turn your back on three days later—like when you change your eating habits, start a strict, new diet, and out of nowhere, just a few days later, a piece of chocolate cake walks right into your mouth before you can say anything. It was a change that involved total surrender.
My decision to finally wave the white flag and surrender changed my world. I knew that to truly seek Him, I had to literally move away from the environment that had entrapped me. I had to emotionally pull out my scissors and cut the ties that bound me to that destructive lifestyle. And as I entered the unknown—feeling bruised, beaten, even bludgeoned—I trusted Him again for the first time in a long time.
In 2001, I left my home in Texas and transferred to Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas as a sophomore looking for a new start. Almost immediately upon entering school there, I met and bonded with a small group of girls who embraced me in genuine biblical community. Aware of my tattered state, they prayed for me, picked me up when I fell, and sometimes carried me over four semesters until I graduated in 2002. They became my sisters and remain so today.
It all sounds so dramatic, I know, but it’s not far from how intense things really were. At OBU, I re-discovered a deep love relationship with God and He began a long healing process that lasted the next few years. He was preparing me. So, after my college graduation, when I entered Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and began working at a church in Dallas, I was ready to actually do what God had called me to.
I can honestly say that my time during seminary was challenging. I knew God had called me there to continue my education, but I also spiritually felt a little like someone who had lost the use of his or her legs and was learning how to walk again. However, I had a fresh new perspective on my relationship with God—I was raw, humble, and surrendered to whatever He had planned for me.
During seminary and shortly after I graduated in 2005, I grew spiritually in leaps and bounds. I couldn’t believe I’d never known His love and grace like this before. So I decided I was ready to go deeper with Him and I made the bold decision to ask for brokenness on January 1, 2006. Big mistake? Or even bigger blessing? I asked myself this over and over for the next 10 months. God broke me every way but loose that year. Just one more to go. Keep looking out for the final part of “Seeking God” to see what happened.
When I left my adolescence and graduated to middle school and the first two years of high school, I was more than made fun of for my faith. Consistently, I was called “God’s daughter” and “Prude” and “Jesus freak” to my embarrassment. (Actually, I proudly wore the last label since that particular DC Talk song was popular at the time.)
I was left out of most secular social activities. I was mocked behind my back and to my face—in the youth group and at school. And even got plenty of criticism from church members.
I was one hurt little girl—not understanding how my Protector could not protect me. So I waned in spending any time with God—feeling as though He had nearly abandoned me and was even allowing the torture to take place.
In my heart, I loved Him like I loved my family. But, in my flesh, my resentment grew and bubbled up inside of me until it erupted my sophomore year of high school. My parents didn’t know it at the time and neither did I, but I began slowly spiraling downward and out of control.
I was sick of being a Christian. I was sick of the mockery. I was sick of the judgment. I was tired of being the rug others wiped their feet on. The church and God both became my enemies. I thought he could give me popularity, peace, and happiness in my situation, but He hadn’t. I was angry.
Sometime during the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, I snapped. My parents didn’t know what happened to me—and I couldn’t explain it either. I think it was a combination of things—a broken heart (brought on by a bad breakup with my first boyfriend), critical Christians, my weakened faith, and my desire to finally fit in for once in my life.
I began running with the wrong crowd, attending all the hottest parties, doing things I said I never would, breaking curfew, lying to my parents, acting out in public—you name it and I did it. Needless to say, my desire to have a deeper relationship and understanding of God wilted altogether and my popularity flourished, as did the sin in my life.
For the next two years, involved in a dangerous relationship with a guy, living the life I chose, and feeling miserable and empty inside, I ran as fast and as hard as I could from God and anything holy. It was the darkest time in my life.
The popularity I’d desired for so long was extremely short-lived and came at a devastatingly high price. I had turned my back on God and embraced the way of the world, and it was time to pay up. My actions came with severe consequences—ones that caused me crash and burn, and finally left me on my face before him begging for mercy.
Stay tuned for Part 3 …
