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

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Worthy of Love

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.