And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years, And had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse,When she had heard of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment. For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole. And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.

And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press, and said, Who touched my clothes? And his disciples said unto him, Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing.

But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. And he said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

Mark 5:25-34

The Long and the Short of It

My testimony is long, because my journey to Christ lasted more than 12 years, from the time I decided that there might be a God until the day that I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour.

I will give you the short version here, and if you believe you would like to know in more detail what God has done in my life, I will link you to a more detailed version.

This is it in a nutshell:

I am a wretched, wretched sinner with a past that would curl most people’s hair were they to hear details.

In 1969, at the age of 14, I ran away from home. From the age of 14 until I was 33, I was a heroin addict and an alcoholic, a thief and a prostitute. In fact, if there was a law that I didn’t violate, it was not out of any set of principles or a matter of conscience. It was because it had not presented itself as a way to make money. I had a daughter whom I ignored and allowed someone else to raise. I had abortions, I stole from my family, I habitually lied.

I knew very little about God, despite the fact that I had been surrounded at various times in my life by Christians who tried mightily to tell me about the love of Christ. I wanted very much to believe that I was the one in charge of my life.

At the age of 33, I came out of prison and, through no plan of my own, I ended up in a two-year residential treatment program. I stayed for five years. In that program, I learned how to be honest and how to care about other people; I learned about myself, and I learned that life was something to be lived on its own terms. But I had absolutely no idea about who Jesus Christ is or of the fact that in Him I would find happiness.

At the age of 38, concerned that I might lose the 5 years of sobriety I had under my belt, at the suggestion of a friend, I went to a 12-step program. I loved it there. There were other people who had the same sort of background as I did, and they had all been sober for years. There was one problem, though: There is a requirement in those programs to have a belief in “a higher power.”

Boy, I didn’t want to believe in that!

I had spent many, many years refusing to believe that God would judge me for my lifestyle. In fact, I had created my own god to worship so that I did not have to look honestly at my life vis-a-vis the Word of God. I was so entrenched in my agenda to not have to change my lifestyle that I stepped up my defiance incrementally over the years until I must have looked like a totally heart-hardened lost cause to all but Jesus Christ Himself.

But through the grace of God, I was allowed to live long enough to come to my senses, understand that the god that I made up is a false god, and confess my sinful life and beg His forgiveness for my sins, and His help to change my "natural inclinations".

Long story short: God had been throwing Christians at me at every turn for 12 years. I had come to believe that there is indeed a God, and I was not Him. That’s about as far as I could take that line of thinking, though.

One of the Christians He put in my path, Traci, told me about a book she had read. She told me about how the book started, with all of the Christians being taken away from earth in an instant; planes falling out of the sky, cars slamming into one another, people dying in monumental numbers. It sounded like a great book, a bit like a Stephen King book, I thought. She had to explain the premise and what “the Rapture” was, and I found it a bit strange, but I was fine with that. Anything for a good story.

It was 1998 when I read that book. It was called “Left Behind,” and I had to buy a Bible as well, so that I could check what I was reading with what it said in the Bible. Fascinating, and although I didn’t really understand much about the theology, I could see that it was possible that the things in the book could happen, if one could believe the Bible.

A couple of years passed. I met and fell in love with a kind and gentle Christian man, whom I later married, Ken. It’s strange to think about, but I had no idea he was a Christian, though I can see now that it shines in everything he does. But I didn’t know that Traci was a Christian. In fact, looking back now, I can see that I had no idea how many Christians He had put into my path!

Although I had not accepted Christ into my life, I was well on my way. I was learning more and more about Him, but I kept putting the decision off. I literally thought to myself, “I’ll think about that later.”

In 2000, I married Ken, even though I had not yet made my decision. On Valentine’s Day, 2001, he gave me a boxed set of the “Left Behind” series, containing volumes 1 through 5. Again, I read the novels with a Bible open. Shortly after that, I was driving down a particularly long and straight road in south Texas, on my way to the store, when my mind wandered. I pictured what it would be like if the Rapture happened right then. I saw it as if it were a video.

In one of those moments of clarity we all have from time to time, I realized the simple fact that I needed to make a decision immediately, because I was not promised tomorrow.

That was March of 2001, and I was 45 when I finally decided to surrender my life to Jesus Christ, when I confessed to Him that I am a sinner and that I was badly in need of His grace. On March 18, 2001, I was baptized

I am lucky. So wretched was my life when I finally turned it over, that anything would have been an improvement.

I have followed Christ since that time, although I will admit to some obstinacy and disobedience, which I will no doubt have to detail here later when I write about my “Jonah years.” But God knows my weaknesses better than I do, and He works patiently with me on them, and little by little, I am overcoming them.

The long and short of it is that I am happy, not in the run-around-and-scream happy, but a constant kind of happiness that brings serenity and satisfaction.

It’s funny how drastically I can misunderstand things! Because I heard so much about being a Christian making people happy, I used to think that following Christ would allow me to have the things I wanted. If only I believed, I could have a new car every year, all the money I wanted, and that I would no longer have difficulties in my life.

In the past few years, I have come to realize that most of the "betterment" has nothing to do with this world, but rather the spiritual one. Instead of wanting that new car and easy money, I want to please God.

And amazingly, the more I do that, the more I want to do that. It’s just that simple!