My Testimony

From the NET Application.

2. Recount in detail HOW and WHEN it was that you came to know Jesus in a more personal way?

From the time I was a small child, my house has been very faith-filled. My mother is Baptist and my father is Catholic. I was raised in the Catholic Church, but attended the Baptist church through fifth grade. While many people see mixed faith backgrounds as a challenge, I have always felt that getting to experience worship in a variety of manners as a child broadened my horizons and strengthened my relationship with Christ. As a small child, I remember finding joy in memorizing scripture and singing hymns at Sunday school and learning the richness of the sacraments in CCD.

When I was 7, my mom and I were attending a Christian concert at the Baptist church. NewSong was playing the song, Arise My Love. Even as a child I was struck by the words, “Arise my Love, Arise my Love. The grave no longer has a hold on you. No more death sting, no more suffering. Arise, Arise, my Love.” In the song, these words are being sung by God to His Son, calling Him out of the grave. However, deep in my heart, I felt God singing these words to me, calling me to rise out of my chair, out of my comfort zone, and go farther. In that moment, I felt so intensely the life that God offered. A life so beautiful, pure and rich in comparison with the lies of the world. I left the concert confident that God had chosen me for something special.

The seed was planted, but as can sometimes happen, my attentiveness to the call was overtaken by the daily happenings of life. For the next 10 years, I maintained a Godly lifestyle. I listened to Christian music, attended church regularly, attended a Christian summer camp, and grew in my faith.

When I was 16, I had the opportunity to participate in an overseas trip to Europe with 70 fellow students from my high school. We traveled to nine different countries, and it was by far the most incredible experience of my life to date. During the trip, I was able to experience first hand the beauty and universality of the Catholic Church. The chaperone I had been assigned was Catholic, as were several members of our group. We attended a Latin mass with Gregorian chants in Venice, encountered the enormity of St. Peters in Vatican City, and attended confession at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. As incredible as all these experiences were, there is one in particular that would lead to the greatest change thus far in my life.

While in Rome, we visited the Basilica of St. John Lateran. According to church tradition, the Scala Sancta (Holy Stairs) is the staircase leading to the praetorium where Jesus was arraigned before Pilot. It is said that these steps were sanctified by his blood as he was scourged, the wood of the steps soaking up His precious blood. Catholics from all over the world travel to this parish to honor Christ’s sacrifice by climbing the steps on their knees while praying the rosary.

Our chaperone, my friend Sarah, and I climbed these stairs. Sarah had a muscular disease that left half her body a bit weak. Side by side, we climbed the stairs. While I climbed them with ease, Sarah worked to pull herself up each stair. As we neared the top, Sarah broke down in tears. Concerned that she was hurt, I asked her what was wrong. She told me she felt so overwhelmed by the gifts that Christ had given her. She had been so blessed, and yet she constantly took His gifts for granted. He had bled for her sins and shortcomings, and yet she often forgot things as simple as praying before a meal he provided. I was so ashamed. Sarah was one of the finest people I knew, yet she was so humble, acknowledging how small she and her good deeds were in the light of Christ’s sacrifice. At that moment, I was overwhelmed with the gift of Wonder and Awe. In awe of her faith, I wanted what Sarah had more than anything else in the world.

For the rest of the trip, I was keenly aware of an irritation in my soul—a gnawing feeling that there was so much more than even all the incredible things I was experiencing at that moment. Something greater than all the world had to offer. Not only could I not shake the feeling, but I didn’t want to. More than anything, I wanted to find the filler for the hole that was suddenly so apparent in me. So when I returned home, I began to seek.

I began to take notice of those around me who seemed to possess the same joy I had witnessed in Sarah. I saw this same joy in several friends of mine who were involved in our parish youth program. One friend in particular invited me to attend a Search retreat. This was a weekend filled with prayer, small group experiences, mass, confession, friends, fellowship and all things wonderfully and uniquely Catholic.

I was 17 when I attended this retreat. I can remember the exact date: September 21, 1997. It was Saturday evening, and we were being led in a reconciliation service. As part of this service, team members were available to pray with us before or after we went to reconciliation. As I prepared for confession, I was feeling so embarrassed and ashamed. A friend of mine on the team prayed with me that Christ would open my heart and that I would feel God’s incredible love for me as he opened his arms to me through the sacrament.

I went to confession that evening with a spirit of openness and humility. While in confession, I was overcome with such incredible recognition of God’s greatness. Overwhelmed by his awesomeness and even more aware of my smallness and insignificance than ever before, I burst into tears. My shoulders shook, and I could not hold back the sobs as all of the brokenness inside of me screamed, calling itself to my attention. I was so ashamed as I saw all of my failings, my shortcomings, and my humanity standing in the presence of the purity of our Lord.

In my mind’s eye, I fell to the floor, cowering at His feet, hiding my face in shame. Yet something inside me was so drawn to him. I found myself peeking through my hands with a childlike curiosity. I was so filthy, yet his face was full of love. I received my absolution and went up stairs to my room. Beside my bed, I knelt on the floor. Words of adoration spilled from my lips. I sang. I laughed. I cried. I babbled excitedly... I surrendered. Fully and completely. I handed my life, my talents, my future, and my past over to my Savior. To my Lord. On that day, Christ became the Lord of my life. The motivator for all I am and all I long to be. I cannot explain it fully, except to say that in that moment, I received God’s grace in a tangible way. He took away my heart of stone and gave me a heart of love. When I ran up those stairs, I was my own, and when I returned downstairs an hour later, I was fully and completely His.