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Fifty-eight years ago a seed was fertilised.  Legally superfluous if my mother wished.  I don’t remember the weeks and months that followed.  I don’t remember much about those months and years.

I do remember my mum got mad at the piles of ironing and that my dad was always working at work or church.  There were six of us kids.  We didn’t notice.  We were loved. My days were filled with fun and free of care.

I do remember being seven.  My dad gave me a bible.  And bible notes.  Showed me how to kneel.  How to pray.  How to read the bible.  It’s what he did.  When we reached seven.

I remember being fourteen.  I got confirmed.  And I remember my sister telling me that she would give my name if she was asked the question: “What is a good Christian?”

That’s when I realised it was all an act.

That is when I stopped.

And turned my back.

Three years ago I remember being fifty-four.  And on my knees.  Sweating.  Fighting. Muscles aching.  Brain aching.  On my knees until He said, “Sleep.”

I didn’t feel saved.  Right then I was just glad to sleep.  Peacefully.

But I do remember the day after. Because He asked … “What now?”

And I clearly remember thinking … “Crap!”

And that is when we began together.  Shedding my skin of fear.

… 🙂 … 🙂 …

I have a dislike for the “applauded and lauded” personal testimony.  It’s a personal gripe.  Because to me applaud, laud and lord sound much the same.  Kind of hollow.

He gets no applause.  Even though he has “discipled me” for a lifetime.  He gets no lauding for being alongside me all that time.  Waiting.  Watching.  Year after year.

Along the way I played the occasional betting slip.  Save me now and I will be good. Along the way I dreamed of Him but never church.  He tried to get my attention.  I preferred not to look.

No one cheering Him then.  No one cheering me then.  Only those I loved.  And those who loved me. There was always love.

And then there wasn’t.

Not like it used to be.

And still He waited and watched.

And He didn’t “Bless you” that one time on my knees.  He waited.  Until the ripples were a huge tsunami – until I yelled  HELP I AM DROWNING!!!!

And was amazed to find love was still there.  Just like they always had been.

That one bruising night on my knees?

That was Him waiting quietly.  All these fifty-four wonderful years and a dash of hell.

So my personal testimony – my witness – isn’t that.

It is this …

What I am now is what I was then.  Just naked of fear.
What I love now I also loved then.  Just stripped of arrogance.
What I will be tomorrow I was also then.  Just not so smug.
What I see now is because of then.  Why I love now is …

Between Him and me and a few loving others.

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Because He gave me everything these fifty-eight years, few cells and one sperm ago.  He allowed me to be me.

All those “lost world” years.

You may judge that a waste.  You may applaud that one night of bruised knees.  Make it my saving … my dying to the world.  Hallelujah.

I know different.

He and I have been travelling together a lifetime.  My lifetime.  As much time as He has is mine.  And now …

As much time as I have is His.

So – for me – when you applaud a “Hallelujah” moment in me or anyone else …

You make Him something He never was.  And you make me something I never can be.

Because He simply allows me to be me.  That’s what He does.  He Loves.

So why can’t we let Him be.  Just as He loves us.  Each and every one.  Being what we already are.  Were always meant to be.  Will always be.  Just naked of fear.

There is no applause in me.  It’s way too shallow.

But a party?  Oh go on then …

If you insist!

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

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NB I dreamed of him from time to time.  All those years ago.  And now He brings those dreams back.  Dreams of touching those who dream of Him, but never of church.

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(Posted on June 17, 2014)

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