A friend of mine recently shared her testimony on facebook, I told her that I loved her analogy and wanted to share her testimony on my blog, and Julie said that it would be alright. Please note, there is a little tongue in cheek humour in here. :) This has a fabulous modern day parable--and I too, like Julie, am wet! Sharing your testimony is easy; getting your testimony is the challenge. God has already won the battle and He will be victorious!
When I was three, I stole a jar of candy from a kiosk. Sticking my hand in the glass shaped heaven; a childish greed took over and I took off. When I was six, I joined a wannabe soccer team. I mentioned early morning runs to my mom, who thought a crowd of kids jogging at five thirty was a horrible idea. I snuck out and ran anyway. When I was nine, I recruited my Indonesian friend to help fix a spelling test. I listened—her accent meant she sounded words out—and wrote. When I was eleven, I walked out to a crazy friend’s party. It was 11:30 at night, and would run late, of course. There I didn’t ask permission—I went out.
If you think about it, I wasn’t murdering people. I wasn’t stealing cars. I wasn’t being cruel to anyone. But, I knew, because I’m a missionary kid, that stealing, lying and whatever else, was wrong on the Jesus stick. I was sticking pins in the water balloon of sin, rather than a knife, maybe. But I was still getting wet.
Sometime during all of this, I went forward at a church alter call. Essentially, I prayed Jesus would keep me good, and send me to Heaven in the end. I didn’t understand the implications of a relationship with an invisible, distant but close being. Anywho, I continued to act up, a bit, but didn’t link myself to the evil crowd my dad preached to. He said evil people were hell-bound—because I wasn’t worried about my behavior, my life stayed the same.
Age twelve I realized there should be something more. Emotion struck, tears flowed, knees bent and I walked out of church with something new. It’s like something clicked about my behavior, like I understood the water balloon thing. A thing is a thing, no matter how small.
I’m seventeen now, and a lot has changed. If you know me, you know how much.
By that, I mean a lot.
Did I say a lot? Yes, a lot. I’m like a playdoh sculpture; shaped all the time. Basic form is static, but every friend, every party and every weekend in Bali changes a little something. No hyperwise conclusion here, just stating I’m the same as I was back in ’99. A little good, a little bad. A little candy kiosking, a little moralizing. End.
Just like Julie, I know that my sins are wrong on the Jesus stick, I even know when I'm sticking pins in the water balloon, and going back to my prior post, it feels pretty good at the time. Really...what's a little water? But Julie is right in her analogy, I'm still getting wet, even if I'm not sticking a knife in the world of sin.
Confession. I am wet!