My Christian Diary

July 17, 2019

Dear Reader,

I remembered that I wrote this today, and reread my naive words and thoughts, my childlike thinking, and was taken on a voyage of nostalgia. It's been over 3 years since I wrote a new part in this, and in those 3 years the Lord has been incredibly faithful through life's troubles.

All the older entries reek of optimism, a part of me too young and scared to write of the pain and vulnerability I was feeling beyond the surface concerns of dating, school, and friendships. But yet the positive parts that I wrote, they were all true. That the Lord, albeit stilling confusing to this very day, chose me to reach others in my school, and beyond.

With the good, there was bad as well.

In this entry, somehow, I'm going to try and sum up the highlights and low-lights of the past 3 years, so that you too can catch up with me and see the bigger picture of the goodness of Jesus.

You see, Emily and her twin sister came to the Lord, and got the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking in other tongues, and got baptized in Jesus' name. They had repented of their sins and been born again of the water and of the Spirit, just like Acts 2:38 commands. They continued coming to Bible studies, along with almost a dozen others, and learned of the Oneness of God, the doctrine of the Bible, and how to continue living for this good, and one, true God named Jesus.

A young man whom I had known since middle school came as well, and followed the plan of salvation, and said that he felt a call to be a preacher of this gospel. This good news that saves lives and changes hearts and repairs wounds and leads us to Heaven. We were so proud of him; his name was Steven.

Unfortunately, with the end of our senior year fast approaching, disunity and rumors began to spread among our group, and slowly but surely, everyone walked away from their faith as they began to genuinely contemplate their future in regards to college, career, dating, and overall life.

It was a very painful time in my life. I felt like a piece of my heart was torn out with every soul that I watched walk out the metaphorical door of serving God. To hear them say that it was just emotions, or to start calling it "religion" rather than the experience they felt of weeping in the altars together, and feeling God lift and take our heavy burdens. I had poured myself into these young people, and every inch of my heart was filled to the brim with love and hope for them. And yet they denied the past 2 years that we had experienced together, and my heart grieved their loss as I watched what Jesus' healing hand had begun to put back together, disintegrate as their lives crumbled around them.

These are heavy words, and I have said them aloud to very few, and certainly never written them. I suppose it's taken 3 years to feel the courage to do so. I still have love and hope for those who chose another path, that they may return to the straight and narrow, and I have expressed zero judgement towards them, only a desire for continued relationship. I wait for them to return home someday, when life gets too hard for them, to the place where joy unspeakable and full of glory can be found. I know they remember, even if they deny it to themselves.

Steven was one that we lost.

Yet, 2 remained. These 2, out of almost 26 that my family and were honored to have been a part of, remained faithful, through some of the worst trial possible. Both were kicked out of their homes for their faith, both put everything on the back-burner to pursue the call of God, both stood against the tide of their friends and family telling them to backslide at times, and both are still with us to this day.

The first was Alex. She came to live with us shortly after turning 18, and my parents and siblings basically adopted her as one of our family until the following fall when her and I went off to Indiana Bible College to study Foreign Missions. We have remained friends. Sometimes closer, and sometimes more distanced, but friends, and family in the body of Christ regardless.