My Testimony "Just a little talk with Jesus"

The subject has come up many times about my life and my experiences and every time I have shrugged it off. I have tried every way in the world to avoid writing my story. My testimony. To do so requires me to look at the horrible creature I was and I have been avoiding it longer than I care to admit. So now is the time.


Let's start with my childhood. My parents divorced before I knew what that meant, and so I never really remember having a two parent home. Both my parents loved me, I always knew that, but both were very, very, very young when I was born, and young people are prone to mistakes. I don't really know the particulars of what happened that caused them to split up, I just know that they were better people apart than together ( although secretly I always wished for the two people I loved so much to love each other and find themselves together. I always wanted that -normal- home. My father was a service man, a tank commander in the U.S. Army, his story is he was advised not to attempt to gain custody of me when my mother left. I'm sure there are two sides to that as there always are, and somewhere in the middle is the truth of what happened. I particularly don't care because it happened before I even knew what life was about. So I lived with my mother for quite a while. Until I was 5 years old. I don't remember a whole lot, and I am sure it is because I have blocked some out. I remember being a happy kid. Smiling, playing, and hating .. absolutely hating nap time. ( I had a little sister she hated it too) I do recall being left with my mothers step sister ( who I will never call my aunt) my little sister and I, for one night. During that night the woman asked us if we wanted some milk to drink. Now as you know all little kids love milk. Let me just say the delivery method left quite a lot to be desired. I was so young and while it may have ( and as you will learn later I think did indeed, effect my mental growing I do not recall it affecting me much at all, but yes, I was sexually abused.) Then a few years later, the first thing that I can really remember affecting me happened.

Of course it involved nap time. My sister and I were supposed to be sleeping but no, we decided to play, and of course for us play meant using everything in the environment as our toys. My mother had gotten some very, very nice window coverings and of course we decided that these should be used as ropes.. When we broke one of them, needless to say my mother was very, very angry. She freely admits that she was too rough with me that day. Unfortunately, it was the day that my father was supposed to pick me up for a visit. He did with his then girlfriend Debbie. For some reason ( and I do not know the particular reason, it has always made me wonder) she decided to pull off my pants and have a good look at my bare bottom, and she noticed marks where my mother had used a belt. I was 5 years old at the time, and when my Dad saw them he went a little crazy himself. Police were called, I was interviewed by some weird guy who smelled funny, and there was a court date set, etc etc.. I went to live with my Father, who at the time lived with my grandparents. I can not lie to you and say that I was traumatized because I truly do not feel like I was. I went on to live with my grandparents in their home that I felt was pretty much the greatest place on earth, and my mamaw and papaw ( what I called my grandparents) were pretty much the greatest people on earth in my eyes. There really isn't much left to say at this point, until the next turning point in my life. I started school, didn't really get along with other kids, made a friend or two, and was pretty much a terror to everyone who tried to get me to calm down and do something. Except mamaw and papaw.. When they spoke it was like I had to do what they say, I was compelled by no other sound but the sound of their voice.




When my grandfather died I was 8 years old. You know that feeling like the whole world is crashing down at your feet and you just have no idea what to do or how to do it? That's how I felt, I couldn't reconcile that I would never again see my grandfather on this plane of existence. I wanted so badly just to hear his laugh, or share a “June Apple” with him once again. I didn't exactly know how to cry, so I bottled it up and tried to go on with my life. I grew up in a very small area of Tennessee known as Walland, and church was always a part of my life, I remember going to church and being told to sit still, be quiet, just listen. I was involved with the youth at the church, some of which were my family but I never fit in with them. I was different. Trust me, being different at that young of an age can really... really be difficult. Very few people saw the abuse that was laid on me by the other children, those that did said something and were not believed, one of them actually left the church because of it. The rest turned their heads and went on, I was the bad seed. It was around that time in my life when I figured being the bad seed wasn't exactly a bad thing. I started to embrace it, and enjoy it. There were few times when I would let myself come out of my shell, and mostly those times were around my Great Aunt Roxie, or My Great Aunt Mae, who always made me feel like I was loved no matter what I did or didn't do.

Sometime around that time I asked a cousin who I will not name openly to teach me to play basketball. He said he would have to think about it and after a while he came back and said “ I will teach you to play basketball but there is a price” The price was for me to perform fellatio on him after each lesson. Wow that was a twofer, I got to learn basketball, and feel important. After all, that cousin had said that my father had made him do it when he was my age. If Dad did it how wrong could it be? My Dad was great.... So that lasted for about two or three weeks, it was over, no more basketball lessons and no more payments.. Funny, I still don't know how to play basketball very well...

To understand, I don't remember a time in my life when I was not interested in sex, this is probably because of the “milk” incident if psychiatrists are to be believed, but I can not remember a time when I went through the stage of “girls are icky” heck I didn't think anyone was icky as far as that went. So I was not a pleasant person, I was deep into depravity and lust. At school I turned hated remarks from everyone into some sort of sexual innuendo, I was in a lot of trouble. I began to hate everyone and everything that wasn't part of my family. That hatred would give rise to my life and give it a purpose for a long time. Church was horrible for me, I didn't fit in with the people my age, worse I knew I was a sinner for I had done with my cousin ( and he wasn't the only cousin who knew about it, or even had it).. I could not reconcile myself with God, because I did not know how. Everything in my core knowledge told me homosexuality is wrong but look at what I had done. How could God forgive that? What's worse, the door was open to me.. I not only liked it, I wanted it.. I relished it, I was good at it.. I made people happy... I was also a very accomplished liar, yes by the time I was 8. I knew how to avoid saying things to get myself in trouble and I knew how to say things to get others in trouble. At least with those I trusted anyway. I knew how to manipulate things. My mother loves to tell the story of her having to come to school and bring me clean clothes because I had urinated on the ones I had. I will share the story with that as it explains two things about me..







The school I went to should have been shut down years before it finally was. The building my classes were in had holes in the walls of the adjoined bathrooms. A girl I liked ( who I am still friends with now) would synchronize trips to the bathroom with me, not that we had to go, but because we could “show” ourselves through the holes. Apparently a teacher picked up on or synchronization and while she may not have known why she did think it was a disruption and informed us we would both be paddled after lunch.. I decided that I was not going to have it hurt and I asked to be excused to the restroom before the paddling ( so I could pad my britches) that did not happen. I was told that after the paddling I could go, not before. ( assumedly so that I could not pad my pants.. haha) I made up my mind right then I was not going to get paddled. So as I stood out on the porch of the building and was told to bend over, I wet myself. No teacher is going to paddle a child that just wet themselves, they called my mother and she brought me clean clothes. I did not get a paddling. This story explains, even at such a young age that I was interested in sex, and that even at a young age I knew how to manipulate situations to get what I wanted. Something that later in life people would refer to as a type of super power for me.

No one at that time knew that I had other interests as well, I had already begun smoking my fathers cigarettes behind his back, and I had begun stealing from stores I went too. I made a game of it almost, I was good at it. In my mind the best at it. I never got caught, not by anyone. I would continue to steal from stores stuff that I wanted up until I was in my 20's. I never got caught. Things in my life were tumultuous and they only got worse when my father married his long time girlfriend ( the one who had inexplicably looked at my bare bottom when I was five) who was 10 years older than me. I did not like the woman, what's worse is I knew my papaw had never liked her, I knew my grandmother who had started to lose her mental faculties at this time didn't like her, and I flat out hated her. Who was this woman trying to be my mother who was not more than 10 years older than me, for that matter, who was this woman who happened to be the first woman I ever saw fully naked. ( A story I have not disclosed)

I was ripped, and yes I do say ripped, because in my heart my home was with my grandmother, from my home and forced to live in her small, roach infested, smelly house. Where once I had free reign to anything I wanted to eat, I was put on a diet. There were things in the refrigerator that I could not eat. Where once I had not known what it was like to be hungry, I could no longer eat. Where once I had lived a life allowed to read books or go play in the woods, here I was restricted. I could go no further than the front yard. The woods were no place for a child, and I could not stay inside and read, that was forbidden. Where once I had privacy when I was in the bathroom now I had none. She would wait until I was in the bathroom to come in to put towels away, or she would rush in when I was in the bath tub ( because I could not take showers) I had no peace, I had no privacy, and after the first big argument at the house I had no door. My father had picked me up and slammed me through it. I got to see a side of him I did not know existed when he was with her. He became her enforcer. Whatever she said was right, and whatever I said was wrong. This was the case no matter what. I had not only lost my home, I had lost my freedom as a child, and I had lost my best friend. The man I wanted to emulate, the person I wanted to be, the man I loved with all my heart. He became not only distant, but very abusive. I had broken noses, broken shoulders, bruises, everything. Whenever I did something Debbie did not like she would twist my ear til it bled, or grab and scratch at my throat, if I made any move to defend myself from malicious attacks, she yelled for my father who like a white knight came charging in to defend his wife. ….. Uhhhh.. What about his son?


It didn't stop there though. Debbie always had her friends around, and many times they would move into the house with us. I lost the room I had there, and was forced to sleep on the couch until my father boarded up the back porch and made a psuedo room out of it for me. Debbie who had seen me naked more times than any woman not my mother or wife should have began to make jokes, the cruelest I can imagine for a young man growing up. She would wait until we were in front of her friends, or with a group of people and she would start making comments about the size of my genetailia. ( remember my previous interest in sex.. imagine how that must have felt) School was no respite, I loved going to school to get away from her, but when in school I did not share commoradorie with people. I was the one that no-one liked, and I really honestly didn't like them. I made few friends there, and had few people to talk too. At home I suffered abuse from Debbie, and abuse from her father, and if I lashed out, abuse from my father. No one in this world can hit as hard as my father could. Even when things were good, they weren't. Debbie's other favorite past time besides making fun of my genetailia was punching it.. It became a game for her and her friends. I was punched, kicked, and mocked all in one sitting. “It's so small he can't even feel it” No, I felt it, I just knew that if I made any move to defend myself that I would have to deal with the 6'1” 400lb monster my father could turn into. Of my father, I only saw glimpses every now and then of the man I once knew, it seemed that he had become some extension of her, and that he hung on every word she said. I remember writing once in a school journal that I thought my step mother was a witch who had cast a spell on my father.

I became the first “Goth” East Tennessee had ever seen. I hid my scars well, I hid my pain well, and I went to school and got into fights, and hated every one and every thing.. Except learning.. That I loved. I stopped attending church, truthfully it made me sick how everyone pandered around Debbie and treated her so nicely.. Could they not see the person she was? Why did they let that happen? Why did my father let it happen. My Grandmother had lost so much of her mental faculties at that time that even the powerhouse who always protected me, who I did tell, would be angry about it for a time and then forget it. At school, At the Sherriff's office, everywhere... I was the liar, Debbie and My Father were perfect parents. Perhaps I was just jealous of her. She was taking the attention I wanted from my dad.. they said. Meanwhile I was residing in the closest approximation I can imagine to hell. I tried to talk to some family about it, but it seemed no use. The people I thought would protect me, seemed not too. During this time my mother had a lot going on in her life, Im sure had we talked and had she known everything that was going on she would have fought for me, but then again.. My Dad was there.... Who could I trust? God? Certainly not. He let this happen to me, what's more Debbie was in church every Sunday morning so she was a good Christian. Oh how I hated that woman. As I grew older and my grandmothers health weakened, I began to run away from home. Always hoping that I never had to go back to that little shack with Debbie, or sleep at her parents house on a couch. It's surprising that I never tried drugs, to this day I do not know exactly why I didn't. It was my teenage years when Debbie got the idea in her head that I was a drug addict. She told everyone she knew that I was a drug addict that she knew I was on drugs. So the rumours began. She also told everyone horrible stories about how -I- abused her. How she was scared to sleep at home with me for fear I would rape her. (as if) This is why she had to sleep at her parents house. So she could feel protected.. Why could I not feel protected? Several times I remember crying and actually cursing God. How could he let this happen to me?





On my 17th birthday I was under house arrest. I could visit my grandmothers and even sleep there if it were ok with my father. Who always took his orders from Debbie. I was on probation and I could not do anything else. On my 17th birthday, after my grandmother went home, I asked simply to spend the night with her. I wanted to be with my grandmother on my birthday. Debbie would have none of this. We were going to her fathers house to sleep while my Dad worked his third shift job, there was no other choice. So I made a choice. I ran away. This time to my friend April's house. A refuge in the Storm that was my life, was April. She had been my best friend since 7th Grade. When I showed up at her door, soaking wet, and told her my story she sat me down and calmed me down and said her mom would be home soon to work things out. Her mom, not knowing the things that went on in my home life, made the best decision she could, she called her friend and neighbor who was a sheriffs deputy and asked him for help. I walked out of their living room in handcuffs, and was sent down town. Debbie had taken out an unruly warrant for me. That was my first arrest. I was pulled into my probation officers office and after a very tense discussion I said that I could either go to my grandmothers or to my mothers, but I would not go home with them. So he gave me a choice.. I could either go home with them, or I could go to juvenile hall.. The choice was mine. I turned, fiery eyed to the probation officer who was not on my side, and said.. “ I will go home with them, but I will not go to her parents house.” So I was taken to juvenile hall. My first call was too my mother, the second was to tell the jailors I did not want to see my father.

It was at this point that I met a prison minister who came by with a bible, it was called “Free on the inside” and witnessed with me and he prayed with me. I was moved out of jail into a psychiatric ward for a week due to my “suicidal poetry”, and then marched back into the jail, to await my court date. To tell you that it was pleasant would be the worst lie in the world. I hated every moment of it. As I spoke to the Guardian Ad Litem who was my “lawyer” of sorts he said that the case against me was basically bunk, and that he could have me free within minutes of being in front of the judge. He urged me to plead not guilty. At that point I made another decision in my life.. I decided I would not, no, could not go back to live with Debbie. I plead guilty. I was moved into states custody and the promise of a nice, clean, boys home not far from anyone I knew where I could have fun and be a kid and enjoy life.... That did not happen.. I was moved to Oak Ridge, far from where I grew up, in a town I hated, in a boys home that felt awkward and scary. So far from any one I called friend, and so far from the family I still loved very much I fell into a deep.. deep depression.. The first night I was to stay at the boys home, my bunk mates game back. Older boys, who found me too fat for their liking, or too ugly, or too stupid, or too country.. Or something. I was hounded endlessly by them, talking to the house parent made no difference. I begged to be moved out of that room but was told there were no others.. So as the lights went out... I heard them laughing at me and mocking me and I screamed at them.. “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SEE.. DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME BLEED?” They answered unequivocally yes.. Apparently not knowing the lunatic they were talking too. I went into the bathroom we had access too, I took apart a disposable razor and I walked back in with the blade in my hand and cut my wrists in front of them. I guess they were horrified... Either way the house parent was awakened and I was moved to another place to sleep, but I could no longer stay there.. The next morning my case worker from DHS came to pick me up. I had won another battle.







I don't know if you know this or not, but it's really hard to place a child into the system if they have a history of mental illness ( which I did) or a suicide attempt. No one wanted to deal with that kind of child and after HOURS of trying to find a place my case worker was at her wits end. My mother who had been there to visit me talked with her and it was agreed that while I was still in states custody, I would be allowed to stay in the care of my mother until another option was found. ( I did not know at the time that the option would be a long term rehabilitation center). So I spent the next few weeks with my mother. It was a glorious time in my life, my mother was not abusive in the least. I had freedom, I had rules but they were not intrusive. I could talk on the phone, watch tv, stay up all night. As long as I followed the house rules, and paid my mother the respect she was owed. Her boyfriend Chris, became like a second father to me, and a best friend. Someone I dearly loved. I got to spend Christmas with my mother. On December 26th I was to be placed in my next placement. No one had told me what that was... I had a feeling it was something bad.. I even asked if it was lakeshore ( the state mental home) as I left my moms house with her in tears.. It was not lakeshore. It was Penninsula Village. A long term rehabilitation center for children who were treatment resistant. My freedom was gone.. in an instant.. On the first night there, one of the counselors told me I was a self absorbed narcissist.. I responded “Thank you” I resented being sent here. This was no group home, this was worse than jail.. I spent a good four months of my time there, without my clothes, in hospital gowns sitting in the day room floor because I had lost, due to my behavior, even the respite of a cubicle to sleep in.

I won't disclose any of my treatment there,although I will say this was the first place to actually recognize that I had a disorder, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but I do recall one specific thing. The same man who told me I was going to be a lifelong mental institution patient, once said to me.. “Christion, if you could get away from your family, you might have a chance.” That stuck with me. So when I got out I stayed as far away from my father and stepmonster (as I called her) as I could. I lived with my mother until an argument sent me walking from Knoxville, TN to Walland Tennessee, to the only place I had ever called home.. To my Grandmothers house. It was a long walk.....


I could not stay there though, it was unhealthy for me to be there with my grandmother, it was decided I was a strain on her, and that I was too much for her to handle. After all, I was this mental patient who abused Debbie so horribly, what would I do with that old woman? So I spent more time than I care to count not knowing exactly what I was going to do. I stayed with my grandmother some, stayed with my mother some, and moved pretty much back and forth. I had however, secured a job. A good factory job. I worked night shift, with the stepmonster, and got to listen to her tell everyone how horrible I was to her. At one point several of my co-workers asked me how I could stand to be in the same room with her. They apparently could see her lies.. I just went about my business. My uncle had decided that since I had came this far in my life, he would “take a chance on me” and that I could come and live with him. He also helped me secure a car. A 1986 Toyota Celica, that I thought was the greatest vehicle in the history of mankind.. Unfortunately... My job at Tennessee plastic molding ended when I took a voluntary lay off. I had been hurt, and had just returned from a back injury when my supervisor talked with me. I was told that volunteer lay offs would be the first to be hired back. Did I want to go ahead and take it.. I wanted to be hired back after the buy out so I said sure. That.. Did not go over well at my uncles house.....



The day I came home and told them, he came in from work and demanded I get off his computer, I could tell at that moment he was very, very, mad. He told me quite simply that if I had no job I had no home. I decided to take my car and go that very moment. I packed up all that I had in it, and began living out of it, when I could not convince my mom to let me stay with her. It wasn't long until my old habbits came crashing back.. I stole gas, I wrote bad checks, I went anywhere I could to find a place to rest. Of course with all this, my sexual deviation had came back, and I had decided that it was finally time I had some release.. So I called a friend who had told me about a girl who would do “anything” for a pack of smokes. He gave her the first pack of smokes.... for me.. as a gift.. The second time I was to see her, I had not slept in three days. I had went to the gas station in my car that I had been living in and bought “protection” and of course the pack of cigarettes that was required payment. I guess God had a different plan for me, because as I went to pull out of the gas station ( after being motioned out by a lady) I was t-boned. What I remember about the wreck was hearing someone say “OH MY GOD, HE'S DEAD” and hearing someone praying. I laughed in my head.. Praying.. how stupid... Then I blacked out for a short time. My Uncle came to pick me up, the same one who had helped me get the car. The car I had not payed a dime on since losing my job. I remember how mad he was.. He said to me, as I slowly walked to his car, “hurry up, you are wasting my time, and what about that poor woman you hit, you wasted her time too, with your carelessness.” When we got to his work he called my father and told him to come get his son, and that he did not want to even look at me. Understand, my uncle to this day is a deacon in the baptist church I went to growing up, you can imagine how that made me look towards God. I spent some time in a motel, that my father paid for, then I had to leave that.. I called the only person I knew.. I called April.. She once again provided a respite for me. Her boyfriend ( someone who I had fought with nearly constantly in school) would let me stay with him until he went away to college. It wasn't long before we agreed I would go with him to Nashville, to start a new life..


Nashville was a great experience, I thought.. A chance to escape all the things I had been in the past, the preconceived notions of who I was. My bipolar disorder was a problem, I could not hold a job, but Danny patiently held his temper and let me live with him, even leaving the apartment in my name after the two years when he was done with college. It did not last long.. It wasn't long until my failure to pay my bills landed me homeless once more. Of course I had excuses.. I got fired for something dumb.. Even so much as blaming God for it. God doesn't like me because I wear black.. That's ok I don't like him either. So more hatred towards anything Christian, any principle that said my lifestyle was wrong. Any thing that said I was bad, I hated it.. How could anyone judge me, no one knew me. I was just that kid in black that no one liked. Oh the excuses I had. I slept with as many women as there were months in a year, and repeated that more times than I care to count. I smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, I drank like a fish.. Finally confirming Debbie's statement that I was a drunk. This was all ok, because I was a new person in Nashville, no one could pass judgement on me. I slept with under age girls, heck it was once said that it didn't matter as long as it was female.. That was a lie too, my sexual depravity did not end at the female of the species.. Of course I could look down in judgement on everyone else, because I had never done drugs. Alcohol and cigarettes were acceptable. Any from of illegal substance was not. It was in Nashville that my next life adventure began.





Before we get to that, I have to interlude into the circumstances surrounding my only child. Circumstances had left me ( of my own device I assure you) with no where to go, and so I headed back to East Tennessee, where I knew someone would take me in. Sure enough my sister convinced her father and her stepmother to take me in so that I was not homeless.. While there my old appetite for sex came back and I began looking for an outlet. I ran into an old friend who I had always wanted, she said she was taken but introduced me to her friend. I will not go into this girls psychological make up , but let me suffice it to say, she was dumb.. Not just a bit ignorant, she was down right stupid, and I was only able to be around her while I was drunk.. Still she was easy to manipulate and I did. I took her out of her parents home and had her move in with me ( remember I was staying at my sisters parents home). After a while the arrangement was not good, and we were told to leave, and so we set out to have a place of our own. A cute little couple moving into an apartment. She was abusive. More times than I care to count did I suffer her punching me, and that was just the physical, the things she did and said mentally were worse. My sister saw some of it, and boy did she hate Chrissy. I remember holding my sister back the day Chrissy attempted to run me over with her car. That did not end well.. Still I tried. I mean this was it for me. The last chance I had at happiness, then we found out she was pregnant. She went to work with Debbie at a place in Townsend. I thought everything would be ok.. Then one day I got a call that she was staying at my fathers house, and that she would not be coming back to the apartment. Ever. Later I found out that everyone I knew had been told horror stories of the abuse I had wreaked upon her. How I had beaten her senseless while she was pregnant with my baby. Once more down the rabbit hole I guess.. Oddly enough, I still have never once hit a woman in my life. I refuse to do so. Dejected and lost.. Unable to know what to do I decided that the child she carried was not mine, after all she must have cheated on me. I had cheated on her, so of course she had cheated on me. ( nice logic huh?) This was confirmed after the baby was born when my sister saw her out and asked to see the baby and she said in no uncertain terms he was not mine. Done with that I moved on with my life. I contacted a girl I had known from Nashville, one of the under age girls I had, had relations with, who as chance would have it was now 18 years old. We kept in constant contact and finally, she agreed to be my wife. To move into my little apartment with me and to have a life. She did not, I think, know what she was in for.


Our marriage lasted 9 years. For the first few it was great, we fought, outlandish fights .. battles that went on and on, she even threw a sword at me once, and cut me. HAHA.. That passion was met with even more passion and we made it work. For a long time. I tried to be back with my family and for a while everything seemed ok. My grandmother passed away shortly after we were married, my father passed away a few years after that. My family though, had loved my wife, even though she was black, that sort of thing never mattered. It mattered to Debbie, who never missed a chance to point it out but to my family Gena was the thing in my life that would turn it all around. .She was my savior. Behind closed doors though, my sexual depravity turned our marriage into a hell for her. There were threesomes, and other things. Unmentionable things. The times when I was in church were good, the times when I wasn't were horrible. Somewhere I had decided that I was a Christian, but I did not agree with going to church, churches have rules.. and busy body people.. Finally, the Godlessness of our marriage, and my own depravity became too much for her. She began to have dissasociation seizures, she fell deeper into the world of pot, and I fell deeper into the world of “Im better than you” and it finally came to the point where I knew we were hopeless. Both of us had finally lost our will to fight.



I remember that I didn't pray much then, but when I did it was always that God would save my marriage, that God would not leave me alone in this world, that God would not let Gena leave me too. Until one night, I went to bed and I prayed. I said : “God, as a Christian, and a horrible one, I have to let your will be done. If Gena would be happier, if it is what you want in my life, then let her leave.” The next morning she woke me up with a note telling me she did not want to be married anymore. There had been discussion of time apart, that was not what she needed, she needed to not be married to me anymore. So what did I do? I got drunk, and decided to kill myself. Took a bunch of pills, and ended up in the hospital. ALONE. My life in shambles, I didn't know what to do. My friend Christopher came and stayed with me at the hospital, and then when it was time for me to go home I went to his parents house. They did everything they could to help me, but everyone can only go so far. I was a drain on their supplies, I was giving them nothing. They were already supporting their son, they could not support me as well. So I had to go. I did. A landlord, I had lived with agreed to let me stay in one of his places. (after I called everyone I knew to ask if I could stay with them) if I could find a roommate. I went to live in the old house my then ex wife and I had lived in. Still not seeing that God had blessed me. I found a roommate, bad experience. Then I found a couple more roommates, more bad experiences, and finally Dave let me move into the old apartment I had lived in under the stipulation that I would pay him as much as I could each month. Not even half of the rent that was due on the place. He paid the electric bill, and even bought me food a couple times. Until one day he said to me. “Christion, my family is not doing well, I have to start making money on this property. I wish I could help you but I simply can not do anymore for you. You need to find some where else to go. I had exhausted all my abilities. I had no where. I had cut off from my family again when I had noticed that they had posted on my exes facebook page that they were praying for her. Where were my prayers? I had all but alienated Christopher and his family by my simple hindrance of staying there. I could not return. My mother could not help me. Where was I to go? This time I didn't even have a car to sleep in. At my very rock bottom.. With no other choice, and no other thing to do. This time .. I hit my knees.. Right there in the kitchen of that apartment, I cried out LORD HELP ME!!!!.. I prayed for his hand to work in my life and for him to help me out of this situation. Something I had never done before. It was not five minutes later when my phone rang, and it was the apartment complex I now live in. They told me they had an apartment for me, and that I could be in it by the end of the week. If I could pay the rest of the months rent. Dave, the landlord, ended up paying that..


I hated government housing. How far I had fallen, but I knew one thing for sure. God had been the one to give me this. God had given me this home, and it was high time I start paying attention to that. A few months after living here I met Jenny, a very large woman, in a wheel chair. A few months later I met her boyfriend. A man named Will. We hit it off immediately.. They invited me to Bible Study with them, but I refused. I was not all about that.. I was a solitary Christian. Finally, after weeks, and weeks of hounding me.. I agreed to go. It was, to say the least amazing. After a few weeks Will and I decided to start a church. We held service on Saturday, bible study on Wednesday, and “happy hour” ( which was a time to be drunk on the word, not on the things of this world) on Fridays. We would go out into the world together and simply talk to people and witness to them. I can not tell you how great it felt to be a part of a Godly movement. Things happened, and Pastor Will as he had been called for longer than I remembered, began to back slide, becoming a wretched beast of a thing that no one wanted to be around. He became consumed with lust. The church ended there. Once again I was without church, without Godliness in my life.


Stuff happened, lots of stuff happened and barely any of it mentionable. God continued to move in my life, and I was happy for a long while, but one thing Pastor Will said to me was that I needed to forgive people that had wronged me in the past. I said, selfishly, when they ask for forgiveness I will forgive them. An argument sprung up on Facebook, that brought a cousin of mine back into my life. As we argued I heard Pastor Will in my head telling me I needed to forgive him. I had never done that. So I did. In my heart. Im not sure if I ever told him I did, but I did it in my heart. We remained friends on Facebook from that day on. It was through him that I was re-united with my cousin Johnny. After struggling since Pastor Wills decline and then death with Godliness I saw his name on my forgiven cousins page and I sent him a friends request. I wanted to get back in touch with him, but more than that. God told me that I needed to ask him to let me go to church with him one day.

After 10 years of not talking to that cousin, who was shielded from all the things of my past and only knew me as my fathers son, my grandmother's grandson. I messaged him and asked him if I could go to church with him. The response was yes. I have been delivered now, from Godlessness in my life. I have a church that I can truly say I am happy with, I have family back in my life, and I have love. No one can ever tell me God is not real, No one can ever tell me God does not care. Every time I have ever let myself ask him to aid me, to be there, to comfort me. He has. Many have asked me for proof God exists. Read back over this, look at the life I have lead, the things I have done, and know that God saved me. God gave me a new life in him, a family to love me, and a home church, what's more look at the times in my life that God provided for me even as I cursed him. Don't tell me God doesn't love unconditionally.. I know better. All it takes.. Is just a little talk with Jesus!

Sept 14 '13

Colossians 3:23 And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.

Whatever you do, do with vigor, effort, strength, passion, to please GOD, not man!

Live to please GOD only (but also treating others with love and respect)!

Don't hesitate about doing things – DO IT! Take risks! Do NOT FEAR! Jesus told us several times throughout the Bible to not fear.

We always have a choice! It's about determination to do what we need to do – for God, no matter the circumstances. Do your best at using whatever talent, gift, vocation that God presents you with!

We are only here for a few years and we are expected to make the best of what God gives us

Matthew 25:14-30 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+25:14-30&version=NKJV

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me

Random, but Important Thoughts

These are some ideas that I was impressed to write down while at church, a few different days.   They're not complete because I tend to be pulled all different directions when I'm at church.   I plan to expand on each of these ideas over the next few weeks, so please stay tuned!  I hope these do something for you - bring you some sort of true enjoyment and/or get you thinking!

All who love and serve God, become part of his family – they are adopted.

God is the God of the whole world, not just Jews, Christians, or SDAs. God uses us as his agents, acting out his love towards all others, including the wealthy, poor and in-between. We should not only help/love those who do so for us, but also those who are unlovely and can't help us in return.

This is exactly what Jesus Christ did for us. We should be practicing for the life we will have with Christ in Heaven. That includes being obedient and responsible, as a loyal minister of Christ so that we can be trusted as judges.

God will carry out this promise because He said He will and He is infallible. He will always follow through on whatever He promises. The Lord, God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

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Israelites coming out of slavery in Egypt were physically liberated, but mentally they were still in captivity (mental and emotional subconscious conditioning). They coveted their lives which they had back in Goshen. They had the same habits, ideals, mentality, and lifestyle.

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PARALLEL TO NOW

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The “Heathen” comes to “Christianity” reluctantly – maybe as “insurance” or because they were brought up in “the church”. Even though they are on the surface, or by name, “Christian”, they are still mentally, emotionally, spiritually in the world. Their hearts are full of all the world's stuff – bells and whistles. The only time/way change can truly take place is when we let go of the past and of the world and go after Christ with our whole heart and life. We have to let go of our own preconceived ideas.

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Satan enjoys counterfeiting everything God does and stands for. In Psalm 119:18 “Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law.”, David expresses a need to know and be shown the truth. Illumination is the work of the Holy Spirit. This is true illumination and can't be truly duplicated. But Satan surely tries to duplicate it. He has his legion of ministers, for ill, who try to tell proud men of influence, that they are the “illuminated, or “enlightened” ones. This illumination is a false one and is built solely on lies, of which, Satan is the father. So much of the world does not understand the evil and absolute destruction that any shred of sin causes to our entire being. We try to justify sin to ourselves and to others.

My Testimony: Lost and Found

Blessed are they that keep his testimonies, and that seek him with the whole heart.  Psalm 119:2 (KJV)

 Beginnings:

I was born in October of 1980 in Toronto, Ontario.  I was a happy healthy baby: until six days later.  I have been told that on the sixth day of my life, I projectile vomited past the end of my mother's hospital bed (she was still in the hospital due to complications).  I was monitored, examined, etc. In fact, the first photo ever taken of me was this. Doctors tried to figure out what was wrong for about two weeks. When they were about to cut me open to investigate, a series of screenings had come back.  It turns out I had no Thyroid Gland.  Now keep in mind that most children born without a Thyroid Gland have at least the stem. I had nothing; not a trace.  The tricky part was, I also didn't have typical symptoms (fat tongue) of Thyroid deficiency, so they didn't even think of that as a possibility.  If you're curious about what the Thyroid gland does, you can read a brief explanation here.   Suffice it to say, without its hormones, you're dead.  I will touch on this topic, again, later on in my testimony.

My childhood:

I grew up in a pentecostal family.  I went to church every Sunday from birth. It was boring and fairly meaningless to me. I wanted to be "good" and love God and Jesus but I didn't understand even the little bit that I was taught about loving God.  The bible was incredibly boring to me and I had no idea how to read it.  When I tried, I got bored very quickly due to the frustration of not understanding what I was reading.  All I was ever taught in Sunday School and church was very shallow versions of the stories which probably anyone who had ever heard, (non-Christians) in passing would know.  I constantly heard the same morals from the same ten or fifteen Bible stories.  None of them seemed remotely relevant to me and they were just fantasy as far as I could tell.  I believed in God only because I didn't know it was even an option to not believe in God.

Teen Years:

I spent 17 years being forced to go to church.  Sometimes I liked it but that was rare.  I was a quiet, introverted, fat girl who wasn't the same age as any of the other girls in my church.  I barely ever said a peep and I felt like I was not welcome in a place where, ideally, people should always feel welcome.  I tried to fit in but did not ever really feel welcome there.  Therefore, church was always accompanied by this uneasy feeling of being ignored or talked about behind my back.  I was also invisible at school or mocked for being Christian, fat, ugly and poor.

At the age of seventeen, I got a full time summer job at Canada's Wonderland.  Part of the job was, of course, being required to work on Sundays.  I felt that at last, I was free from being forced to go to church.  I was still expected to go to church the weeks that I wasn't working but it was at least less torture for me.  I had no problem missing it. 

Young Adult Years:

Throughout the next few years, I had found more acceptance from non-Christians than from girls who I had known most of my life.   I still "liked" God but I, because of my very weak foundation in knowledge about anything Godly, was very easily led away from all of the morals I was taught growing up.

When I was twenty, crisis hit my family.  My parents, who were Christian, started fighting and proceeded to get separated (but still lived in the same house).  It was insanely tense most of the time. You could cut the tension with a knife, as the phrase goes.  I didn't realize how much it had affected my psyche until years later.  I had been very sheltered as I was growing up and now everything was changing.  I became a very angry person before very long and without realizing why.

I started to spend more time with non-Christian friends and was even more easily pressured to drink, smoke weed, party all weekend, dabble in recreational drugs (magic mushrooms, hashish). It wasn't as horrible as it could have been but I was still very far away from God.  I would get drunk and stoned every Friday and Saturday night, and then go to work the following day and work in my clothes from the previous day while hungover.   I got to the point where I couldn't imagine life without getting drunk and stoned on the weekends.  Then smoking weed started to bleed into my daily life. 

I remember one night, sleeping at my friend, Jessie's place after a party, overhearing Jessie say to a couple of friends "Isn't Amanda so cool! And she's a Christian!".  I remember feeling ashamed to even be called a Christian at that point.  I certainly did not act like a Christian and I wanted to have nothing to do with, what I perceived to be, those oppressive, judgmental, holier-than-thou, hypocritical bigots anyway.

Part of me did want to be a good Christian, but I didn't understand God  in the slightest; other than my perception that God was a big scary, mean buzz-kill.  I had outwardly Christ-like behaviorisms. I was kind, polite, quiet and had a strong work-ethic.  But inside my mind and heart, I was confused, angry and rebellious. My heart was as black as soot.

Info "Addiction" Beginnings:

I had gone through my "party" phase of life but I had grown tired of it fairly quickly (age twenty one to twenty four). But by this time, I had all but forgotten God.  An online friend had told me, casually, one night when he was logging off "oh, look up the Illuminati".

I "Googled" it and I was shocked.  I had a hard time believing what I read. but the more terms I searched or cross-referenced, the more real it became to me.  In the past (2000-2001) I had worked a midnight shift at a gas station so I'd pass the time listening to Coast to Coast A.M.  A few things I'd heard on there were starting to make sense.

Confused, prodigal phase:

I went through a brief phase where I wanted to go to church.  I started attending church again, reading the bible again trying to learn how to pray.  But I got nothing from it.  Again, I was ignored by the church-goers.  I figured, if they don't even notice I exist, what is the point in even going? I was crushed and depressed and just gave up for a long time.  I'd always discussed this topic with my sister (being rejected or ignored by church members in larger churches) and I remember stating a few times, sincerely, that if I could find a small, close-knit church, like the one my Grandparents attended, I'd go to church all the time.  Little did I know what God had in store for me.

I started to get very involved in learning as much as I could about the Illuminati and related topics.  I was starving for information. This hunger for knowledge  also applied to learning history, astronomy, physics, quantum mechanics, music, arts and crafts, and many other subjects (which i can't think of at the moment.)

But that led me to searching for "truth" about life.  I had all of these mixed up philosophies about life. I even vaguely believed evolution (maybe in conjunction with creation), reincarnation, etc. I still sort of believed in God but not as a conscious entity.  More of the new-age view of God as "the universal higher power", whatever that even means.  Even though I was searching and confused, I did know that there must be only one real truth.

Self Justification:

 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline. Proverbs 1:7 (KJV)

All that this meant to me, was that I could continue to waste my life doing things that I wanted.  buying what I wanted, watching what I wanted, associating with who I wanted.

Who wants to have to obey a bunch of rules, right?  That's for kids. I was an adult and a very smart adult, at that.  I knew it all. Except... I was still completely lost, confused and misled.  The more I felt like I "knew", the more lost and hopeless I was.  I became consumed with learning. I was searching for information constantly.  I'd spend my few breaks at work watching videos on my phone and spending all my free time at home reading the internet or watching videos.

I was so sure that I knew what I was doing and that I knew more than everyone else.

Signals:

I had always had weird dreams. Always wandering around in  some sort of gigantic dark building.  It was always very ominous and confusing.  This became normal to me and I started to not even care.  But one night, that summer (2011), I had a dream that really bugged me.  I dreamed that I was getting into an elevator.  The elevator was going to take me either to Heaven or to Hell. I was confident which way it would go; I was a good person - of course I was going to Heaven.  But then, it went down.   I was shocked; in the dream and when I woke up.  I started to think about this dream a lot.  It had really, really gotten into my mind  It was bothering me quite a bit.   I told my sister about it later on and she suggested that maybe it was what I needed to start questioning my direction in life; that maybe God was trying to get my attention.

I'm not sure which came first; that weird dream or my small prayer (which I didn't even remember saying until much later), for Jesus, if he was real, to make himself known in my life, and that I wanted to know the truth, no matter what it meant for my life. It was a short, little prayer, but it was completely sincere, and I believe that is what counts, in Jesus' eyes.

Things started to take shape, quickly.

I had worked (teaching piano lessons at a studio) from Tuesday to Saturday every week for about five years.  I despised working Saturdays because, unlike the rest of the week, I had to actually get up in the morning_*gasp* and it was a long, annoying and boring day.  I know; woe is me.

Well, I can't pinpoint the exact timing, but within a couple of weeks, or maybe even that next weekend (and I had completely forgotten about my little prayer by now), my co-worker told me about how the lady using my classroom on Mondays had quit.  I jumped on that immediately. I told the supervisor of the studio that I wanted to, as soon as possible, change from Saturdays to Mondays, instead.  He accommodated me immediately and I was set to start my first Monday a couple of weeks later.

A week later, (the week before my last Saturday) I met my (now ex)boyfriend. Online. I was still confused about theology and had been starting to think of myself as an Agnostic.  But he started showing me some videos about Creation v. Evolution by Dr Walter Veith. I rolled my eyes when I saw that he was trying to prove creation as how the bible describes it.  Everyone knows that's ridiculous, right?  Well, as I started to watch more and more videos, I started to understand. It started to become logical to me.  I started watching all of his videos.  I found his explanations engrossing, logical, and completely convincing.  My obsession for learning translated into an obsession for learning about God, history (including biblical history), prophecy and the end times theories. His lectures also showed me the profound logic in the pages of the Bible.

Letting God break down my walls:

I  spent the next six months learning about these things and looking for sermons online.  I was learning that God was, in fact, NOT a big, mean, wrathful grump.  That He was love. And learning how much He loved the people he created.  I spent this time randomly breaking down into tears. Sometimes it was because I was overwhelmed with Joy. Other times, I was overwhelmed with sadness for how people were taught to view God. How God loved us and we just treated him like a reject.  Sometimes it was both mixed together.  The whole process was emotional upheaval .   In April 2012, I found a video testimony about Emmanuel Amos Eni who was formerly a witch doctor, and who was verily heavily involved in the demonic spiritual world.  Through his testimony video (which was actually a reading of his book), I learned that in this world, you can not be a casual Christian. You have to be completely committed.  If you are not strongly committed to the Lord, Satan and his angels will come along and attack you, after they lead you away from Him - if they need to do that much.   

That was what I needed to hear to decide that I was all or nothing. There is no middle ground on this issue. I spent the next few weeks completely engrossed in sermons on YouTube from various pastors and as it was revealed to me the absolute loving nature of God, I gave up any resistance to the Holy Spirit.   I spent the next week constantly learning about everything I could, praying, crying, praying and crying at the same time, singing/playing praise songs or hymns on piano.   I repented from my sins and asked the Holy Spirit to help me keep all of His commandments.  

Now, all I cared about was learning about, talking about, thinking about, hearing about God.  But no one in my life had any interest in talking about it, except an online friend and sometimes my sister; who usually had to leave before talking to me very long. 

 I had been telling one of my piano students' mom (Sophia) how I was learning about the Seventh-Day Adventist theology and she invited me to go to church with her.  April 28, 2012  I was supposed to go to church but I guess I wasn't ready to go yet.  But the following Saturday, I woke up very early in the morning.  I began singing and playing hymns (piano).  I felt like I wanted to sing with other Christians and told myself that today was  a great day to go to church.  I called Sophia and asked to go with her to church that morning.  Well, she gladly picked me up and when we got to church, she introduced me around to everyone.

 I felt so welcome, it was heartwarming.  I felt like I was home.  My soul was at absolute peace being there.  By the next Saturday, I was already playing the piano for service and getting to know a ton of people.  I was fully immersed in the church family. I even had a passion, immediately, for teaching others about the Lord and trying to help them understand God's unadulterated love. This was the small, close-knit church I had always wanted.

 I am now so filled with complete peace, joy, love that sometimes I can't stand it. 

Update - May 29 2013

After a few months of attending church and learning more about God, my mom came home to visit from Alberta.   I asked her about something she'd said to me as a teenager.  She'd told me once that if I had been born very much earlier than when I was, I would have not lived past infancy; doctors hadn't yet learned much about thyroid dysfunction.  She told me that God made me when He did for a reason, and He wanted me here on Earth.  I never really understood the gravity of that statement until last year.  I had been thinking she was talking about a matter of twenty or thirty years.  She informed me one day, during her visit, over lunch, that it was not a matter of decades, but a matter of about three years.   My brother was born in 1977 and they had not yet started doing any sort of thyroid screenings.   Keeping in mind that I hadn't displayed the typical symptoms of hypothyroid (as hypo as one could get, I suppose), if it had not been for that newly routine screening, the doctors would most likely have had no idea until after it was too late to save me.  I would have perhaps not made it past the age of one month.

That their hearts might be comforted , being knit together in love, and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the acknowledgement of the mystery of God, and of the Father, and of Christ; Colossians 2:2,3 (KJV)

 

  It has been a year since I started attending church.  It is great. My life and heart have changed in so many ways, I could not even explain.   Not only does the world make complete sense now (yes, I'm serious), but I have learned to let go of anger/fear/hatred/unforgiveness/discrimination/judgment of others/etc.  In addition to these, I also have more of a passion for outreach and helping others - something I have never even pretended to care about in the past.

I also have a new family.  My church is my family now (even though I still do love my biological family).  It just shows me that love is ever-expanding. We can always have room to love more people.  It's not a finite commodity.  And Jesus is the one who has taught me all this.

Sometimes I think back to the hopelessness that was choking the life out of me before, and I almost feel like I'm falling.  If Jesus hadn't made notable and noticeable (maybe not at the time, but in hindsight) impressions on me over the past couple of years, who knows where I'd be now.  I am so thankful for His love and mercy.

I just hope that you, reading this, have found this, or have the desire to find this happiness. It is not a conditional happiness or fleeting happiness. It is true internal joy which no situation can take away.

New addition:
I've learned quite a bit over the past few years.  Something I was considering in December was how I got my start in the music field.  I believe that my life would not have been nearly the same, and my mind would not work the way it does, had I not had such focus on music throughout my life.  Now, knowing what I know about even having my life in the first place, I know that God has guided my steps. So I started thinking about how piano lessons for me even started.

When I was six years old, we had this little organ keyboard in the dining room.   I had no idea how to play it and I, unlike many children, was not satisfied with faking it.  I decided one day that it would be interesting and challenging to learn to play piano, and for that reason, I wanted to learn.   [What six year old thinks that way?] I knew then, that I was going to be a pianist.  However, our family was fairly poor.  I had noticed that we had a rough time paying for necessities at times, so I would not dare to mention piano lessons to my parents.   I went through a few years of wishing I could learn, and envying little girls and boys who could play.  There was a T.V. show that I liked called Tiny Talent Time and I would always watch, intently, the pianists, while ignoring the other talents.   

 A couple of weeks before my tenth birthday, my mother had a lady over, from a music studio/school.  She had come to test the aptitude of my brothers and I.  They just seemed like fun little games to me.  I don't remember what they exactly were, anymore, but I do remember that I enjoyed playing them.  After she had administered the tests, she talked with my parents.  She told them that I would probably be good at piano.  I was asked if I wanted to take piano lessons.  My answer was an immediate and resounding "YES!"   Finally I had my chance to learn that great instrument.   

I had to wait two weeks for piano lessons to start, and boy, was I excited.  I constantly, throughout those two weeks, asked my mom if it was "piano day" yet.   Finally it was the eve of "piano day" and I could barely sleep.  I was almost as excited about starting piano lessons as I would be about my own birthday or about Christmas day.    After "piano day" had come and gone, I kept learning, earnestly.  I would practice and learn things on my own at home, and was usually at the top of my class (I had a class of others at piano lessons, instead of private).  I got to Grade 8, RCM (This is the Royal Conservatory of Music, which is the "standard" agency in Canada, although levels in piano are sort of an arbitrary concept) within four years of lessons.   After highschool, when I started working, my progress slowed and, at times, even stopped, because I couldn't put the work into piano that I had previously been able to.  However, I did eventually achieve passing Grade 10, RCM. 

At the beginning of 2014, I spoke with my mother again about past events.  I asked her if I had ever mentioned piano lessons between the ages of six and nine.  She said that I hadn't.   I also asked her if she had asked the representative from the music school to come test us, or if they had just, seemingly, randomly called to book an appointment at our house.  She said it was the case of the latter.  How then, I asked myself, and God, did it happen that I had got my start in music?  I believe that God had "pulled strings," so to speak, that made that happen, as I don't believe in coincidence.   

Knowing what I know about how music changes, physiologically, the mind of a student, and knowing that my own piano teacher gave me a chance as a teacher at the beginning of my adult life, I don't believe that I would have the job I now have, nor would my mind work in the ways that it does now if it had not been for years of music lessons.   That leads me to conclude that the only possible reason for me being able to start was God's wisdom, knowing that he had made me for this purpose. 

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands. Psalm 138:8

From time to time, I read this plaque that my mother gave me.  Each of her children have one.  Mine says:

Amanda

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Worthy of Love

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Blessed are they that keep his testimonies, and 

that seek him with the whole heart.

                                                                Psalm 119:2

Throughout the years of my childhood, adolescence, young adulthood and even now, I've always had that plaque.  At times, I believed it, and at other times, I scoffed at it.  But now, it speaks exactly of me.   Sometimes it touches my heart how clear it is, to say that God is right here, guiding my path and bringing me where He knows I should be; even when I mess it up. 

"God is faithful, by whom ye were called into Fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord." 1 Corinthians 1:9 (KJV)

I'll close, for now, until there's more to add, with this video presentation.  I hope you enjoy it and that it touches your heart.  May this testimony bless you and direct you to the Lord Jesus Christ. 

The Ten Commandments Found in The New Testament

Exodus 20: 1-17

And God spake all these words, saying,

1. I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: Thou shalt no bow down thyself to them nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; And showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.
3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain: for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
4. Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.
5. Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
6. Thou shalt not kill.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
8. Thou shalt not steal.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's

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Here, we see the original ten commandments in Exodus. Let's take a look into the New Testament to see where these commandments are restated.

1. Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve. Matt 4:10
2. Little children, keep yourselves from idols. Amen. 1 John 5:21
3. Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honor, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed. 1 Tim 6:1
4. For he spake in a certain place of the seventh day on this wise, And God did rest the seventh day from all his works. And in this place again, If they shall enter into my rest. Seeing therefore it remaineth that some must enter therein, and they to whom it was first preached entered not in because of unbelief: Again, he limiteth a certain day, saying in David, Today, after so long a time; as it is said, Today if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts. For if Jesus had given them rest, then would he not afterward have spoken of another day. There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God. Heb 4:4-9
   And he said unto them, The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath: Therefore the Son of man is Lord also of the sabbath. Mark 2:27,28 *
5. Honor thy father and thy mother: and, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Matt 19:19
   Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise. Eph 6:2
6. He saith unto him, Which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness. Matt 19:18
   For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Rom 13:9
7. He saith unto him, Which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness. Matt 19:18
   For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Rom 13:9
8. He saith unto him, Which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness. Matt 19:18
   For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Rom 13:9
9. He saith unto him, Which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness. Matt 19:18
   For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Rom 13:9
10. For this, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Rom 13:9
    What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid. Nay, I had not known sin, but by the law: for I had not known lust, except the law had said, Thou shalt not covet. Rom 7:7

* Note: This is not a license to ignore or change the Sabbath. It is simply stating that God made the sabbath for rest, for us to enjoy and spend time with the Lord, as apposed to the way the pharisees treated it; as though observing the sabbath was a list of rules and restrictions. The sabbath is a retreat from the world and a holiday; not a burden.

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Why should we care about this?  Who cares about the law? We are free, through grace, right? Well, yes, we are, but when you have truly been converted, keeping the law of God is not just easy; it is a pleasure!   As that last verse is quoted to say "Nay, I had not known sin, but by the law"  We don't know we're doing wrong unless it is told to us that we're doing something wrong.    A very good book to read about this is James; especially James 1 and 2.

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But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed.   James 2:25