When a fellow blogger posted about how she came to know Christ, it was such a wonderful and inspiring story. It was a conversion experience such as Paul experienced on the road to Damascus. Mine was not so exact and dramatic.
I grew up with a Christian mother and was raised in the Anglican Church, which in the U.S. is called the Episcopal Church. I went to Sunday School and learned the Bible stories and my mother talked of God, and of course displayed her faith in many ways and taught us. There is, in our denomination, baptism as babies and I know that other churches believe in dedicating babies and not baptizing until they become older. But we are all nevertheless one in Christ.
When we become of age we are ‘confirmed’ and that entails confirming the faith and commitment to Jesus Christ, promised at the time of our Baptism by our parent (s) and Godparents. As it turns out my husband and I were not confirmed until we were married. That is when I confessed my faith before God and man.
My faith while present already, it grew, and I learned to lean on and trust Jesus in my life in a very deep way. During my early married years and in fact for many years to follow, I was to go through a myriad of trials and difficulties. Those who know me, know that I suffered from depression to different degrees, from mild to severe. I called it ‘The Darkness’. I went through periods of respite for a time and then it would hit me again. During these years, while I knew God was not responsible, I wondered very much why He was allowing this I somehow knew He was with me. And the times I cried out to Him, sometimes prayerfully and other times angrily I still knew “He was with me”.
There were lots of times, some that I cannot blog about, that He was so evident in my life, one of which I wrote about and is too long to relate but I will link it if anyone is interested. I recently re-blogged it so some have read it. Dreams Can Be Real
I would suppose that one other significant time I can see God’s hand in my life was when we moved after my husband retired. We really hadn’t planned initially to move so far from the city, but we did. We were there 12 years and it was during those years, when the doctor I was seeing, who incidentally was a Christian began the physical healing of my body by scrutinizing all the medications that I was taking. I was a semi-recluse at this point and sleeping away a lot of my day and night. I was over-medicated and also taking some of them at the wrong dosage and at the wrong time. She also introduced me to Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, which I took for the last couple of years before finally taking my last anti-depressant and discontinuing therapy.
note: I always add whenever referring to the stopping of medications that for some with depression or other mental illnesses, this is not always the case, as there are clinical reasons because of certain chemical imbalances in the brain that sometimes necessitates taking these for life. It is the same as a diabetic needing insulin for life. Also, while Cognitive Therapy worked for me, it may be something different for others.
I can’t begin to explain what that felt like for me. It was freedom from depression and oppression and instead I felt joy and it felt so good to laugh again and to find life worth living. I knew that God had sent me to this little town to finally be freed.
That was about 4 years ago, and at first wasn’t sure whether it would ‘last’ or not, but by God’s wonderful grace it has.