In those hills…(my testimony)

Testimony - a public recounting of a religious conversion or experience.

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I had a very basic, middle-class American childhood.

My mom worked as an accountant and my dad was an auto parts salesman who traveled the state. I was born in Albuquerque, NM and was an only child who was also the only child who lived on my street. My mom converted to Christianity after I was born but it wasn't something my dad was really interested in, which ultimately meant that every Sunday it was me and my mom, headed off to church together.

I never really thought about why Dad didn't come with us on Sundays, I just settled into the fact that Sundays were for me and mom and that was that. I have faint memories of going to Sunday school, and brighter memories of bringing books with me so that I could read during the long and boring sermons. At one point my mom decided to change churches and the new church was about 45 minutes away. We would make the long drive out to the small church every Sunday and then on the way home we would stop at Lotaburger. I would get a small bag of french fries and mom and I would share a fountain diet coke, our favorite. I don't remember much about the church, but I do remember those fries.

I attended Hope Christian School from 3rd grade to graduation. Looking back at it now, I really commend my mom for her forward thinking and willingness to convince my dad to put me into a private, Christian school when he had essentially no skin in the game. I'm glad that he didn't push back and also made the sacrifice to pay for my schooling every year. Although my school experience was pretty unique (my graduating class had 23 students), I am very thankful that I had the primary schooling experience that I did.

At some point during my middle school years, I decided that I wanted to make Christianity official. I had been going to church with my mom for as long as I could remember and attended a Christian school so I was fully immersed in "Christian-ese". I knew and understood that the way to make things official was through baptism. I have no core memory of saying "the prayer" or asking Jesus into my heart, and looking back at it now, I assume my decision was mainly wrapped up in wanting to fit in and follow the "rules". I've always been a rule follower so getting baptized was the obvious next step.

Now, when I hear stories of kids dedicating their lives to Jesus at 5,6,7 years old, I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes and think, "yeah right...like they even know what they are doing". I’m sure my cynicism is all wrapped up in the fact I am not quite sure I knew what I was doing at that time. I knew the stories, I believed the stories, and I sure as heck didn't want to go to hell, so I confessed with my mouth and believed in my heart that Jesus was Lord.

While I have a faint memory of actually getting dunked in the water, I have a strong memory of a man (who I am guessing was our pastor at the time) coming to our house to do a sort of "interview" with me, I assume to confirm that I knew what I was doing. He sat with my mom and I to ask me the important questions and then they decided that my mom would do the baptizing.

Wait, what?! I didn't even realize this was an option. My MOM? I assumed this job was reserved for the VIP Pastor who was besties with Jesus so to know that my mom was going to be the one doing the dunking was just the coolest thing ever. Knowing she would be there with me in the tub also helped calm my nerves. I've never enjoyed tackling new experiences alone, so her being there was a huge relief.

The memory of the whole ceremony itself is kind of like looking through trace paper. I'm not sure if this is mostly due to the passage of time or the fact that I was mainly just following the rules, but I am thankful that my mom played this role in my story. Her faithfulness and prayer has had a great impact on my life and I am forever thankful for her.

After my baptism and despite my church and Christian school attendance, my life didn't change all that much after my official conversion. As I continued through middle school and high school, I was mostly navigating hormones and emotions instead of focusing on theology or apologetics.

At the end of my freshman year, I started crushing on a boy (he was a Junior and one of the most popular guys in school) and somehow (I’m still not really even sure how he even noticed me) I ended up dating him.

While this boy was never physically abusive, he was emotionally abusive. I spent the better part of my high school years focused on being in a relationship with him and making him happy. I alienated my friends and was consistently toeing the line between being somewhat happy and completely miserable.

I was not focused at all on my newfound Christianity or how to apply that to my life. I had heard the messages for years and years, but nothing had become "real" to me. Looking back now, I'm almost certain it was because I went to a Christian school. We were entrenched in all of the right words to say and the right behaviors, but behind the scenes none of us were living out our relationships with Christ in any meaningful way.

One thing I was missing during this time was a mentor or someone older than me to guide and disciple me. My mom was busy being a parent so even though I'm sure she tried to disciple me, I saw her as parent who was going to be disappointed in me pretty much no matter what I did. I was also navigating this difficult relationship as a 16 year old and making a lot of mistakes, culminating in a relatively traumatic event that involved quite a few people, including my parents, which complicated our relationship even further.

Instead of learning that God's "instructions" for life were meant to benefit me (and not just a buzz kill), I learned how to do and say the right things in order to avoid getting in trouble.

Even though I knew the truth in my head, the relationship aspect of Christianity was a thousand years away.

I continued on that path throughout my older teen years and my early-mid twenties. I pretty much stopped attending regular church once I moved out and on my own. Although I never stopped believing Christianity was true, it was not a part of my day to day life. I was too busy navigating becoming an adult. I was wrapped up in getting my graduate degree, buying a house, hanging out with friends, and dating a bunch of guys in hopes of getting married.

I look back on these times now and despite my carefree nature and spending years doing what the world told me would make me happy, I was utterly miserable.

I didn't know or understand who I was because I was too caught up in trying to be what I thought everyone else wanted me to be.

The Move

Everything changed when I moved from Albuquerque to Seattle. An opportunity for a job change arrived, and I didn't have anything rooting me in Albuquerque, so the inevitable excitement and adventure of moving to a huge city that I had never even been to before was too much to pass up.

I also knew someone in the area...Lisa. Lisa babysat me when she lived next to my parents as I was growing up. She had moved to the Seattle area and my mom kept in touch with her over the years. When I decided to move there, my mom connected us.

Lisa became the older Christian mentor that I had needed all those years ago. Even though I was somewhat resistant at first, she welcomed me with open arms and invited me to church with her once I had moved and was settled. I was overjoyed when she asked because I had been wanting to attend, but didn't want to go by myself.

She invited me for Easter right after I moved and then I started attending with her regularly. I am so incredibly thankful that she played this role in my life.

Everything changed for me during this time…in the hills of Issaquah.

When I first moved to the area, I got an apartment in the town of Issaquah which is a couple of towns over from Seattle. In case you have never been to the area, Seattle is extremely hilly. It is basically a city integrated into the mountains. (And I don't care what anyone says about the weather, the PNW is hands down the most beautiful place I have ever lived.)

Back to my apartment...I moved with my two dogs into a neighborhood called the Issaquah Highlands. It was a fully planned community with hundreds of houses, some shopping etc...and most importantly, there were miles and miles of sidewalks, trails and parks throughout. It is hands down my favorite neighborhood I have ever lived in.

Almost every day after work, I would suit up Guinness and Chloe in their harnesses, hike myself up the huge hill behind my apartment and walk and walk and walk around the neighborhood. I would mostly listen to music because podcasts weren't a thing just yet. Reminiscing about this time now, I am so glad all of this happened before social media became a thing. Facebook had essentially just started so the overwhelming nature of social media was still in its infancy. I don't think I would have walked nearly as often or for nearly as long during this time if I had social media as a distraction.

I would walk those hills, music playing, stunningly gorgeous scenery before me and God was getting to work. He met me in those hills in a way that is hard to describe. This is where Christianity became real.

It was in those hills that I finally understood that what God really wants is a relationship with us, not our begrudging submission. His "instruction" manual for life is entirely for our good, so that we may live life to the absolute fullest, in relationship with him. He's not some mean man in the sky wanting to run our good time and then send us to hell when we mess up.

It was in those hills is where I began to fully understand the gospel. The fact that God sent Jesus to suffer for my sin...the grace he provided through that action humbles me every time I think about it. For him to provide something so wonderful and lovely when I deserve nothing but the worst of the worst for the things I have done in my life...it brings me to my knees.

It was in those hills when everything came into focus. My heart finally opened to what my head already learned all those years ago.

It wasn't a particular moment. It wasn't a situation where one day nothing made sense, and the next everything made sense. It was gradual. Slow. Painstakingly beautiful.

The fact that God was intimately involved in orchestrating the minutia of my life to bring me to those hills, where he would reveal himself through introspection and environment, is a stunningly beautiful sign of what a loving and caring God he is.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those 
who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."  - Romans 8:28

I loved God and I had been called according to his purpose but I spent a lot of years ignoring Him. I didn't have a great support system of older Christians aside from my mom that I could look to for advice and counsel. I tried to outsmart God and do things on my own but only ended up going in circles and making myself miserable in the process.

He knew that I needed a new and different environment. He knew I needed a Lisa. He knew I needed those hills.

Me.

Little 'ol me.

Who am I?

I don't have an oversized influence over anything. I am not bold about sharing my faith. I don't work in ministry. Why does he care so much about me to spend the time and energy to work all these things out for my good?

Truth is, it's because it doesn't have anything to do with ME. Not in that sense anyway. It has everything to do with HIM and his character.

He wants to be in relationship with us, but also wants the relationship to be two sided...he didn't want to create little robots that would just worship him. He understands the benefits and beauty of relationship better than any of us will this side of heaven.

Ever since those hills of Issaquah my faith has been a priority. I was blessed to find a Christian husband who shared a similar background of my own. He also learned about Jesus at a young age, but the relationship became "real" when he was much older.

Since our marriage, we have done numerous bible studies and been involved in many small groups and life groups at the various churches we have attended. We have had seasons where we were very dedicated (praying and doing studies together almost daily) and seasons where we our spiritual lives were dry. But God never gives up on us and is always there waiting to quench our thirst when we return.

One thing I sometimes struggle with is the "boring-ness" of my testimony. I didn't have some wild past that I was saved out of. I didn't have a day where I strongly felt the Lord calling to me in a way that I felt I had to respond. I don't have the before/after clarity that a lot of other people have.

But God has been gracious to show me that no matter how you come to Him, the result is the same. You don't have to have some big, tragic event to be valued and special to him. To do the work he needs us to do, He needs people who have had those events and he also needs the people who have testimonies like mine. He will use it all. I’m quite sure there are probably millions of other people just like me who can find something to connect with in my story and God will use that connection to bring about his purposes.

I don't know what your story consists of, but I do know it's important. God can use the drama and he can use the mundane to create beauty and connection. No matter what chapter you are on in your own story, God is working and waiting patiently to shower you with his precious love and grace.

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