My testimony can be found in John 5:25 - "Surely, I tell you, the hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live."

     

     

   I'm not your average Christ Follower. I didn't grow up in a Christian home. My journey actually began in my mother's womb. While pregnant with me, she became overwhelmed by the spirit and started speaking in tongues. She delivered me without any pain - even though the monitors were showing intense labor pains. The doctors were frantic because they thought  I was going to be a stillborn baby. I was born perfectly healthy. My birth was the wonder-working power of an Almighty God. It was the evidence of HIS grace and mercy over my life, and my family's life as well.   

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     I was raised by two loving parents who struggled with addiction. My dad spent most of my life in-and-out of rehab for depression and alcoholism.  My mom wrestled with anorexia and bulimia. When I was three-years-old I was sexually abused by a Deacon in the Church.

I was also physically and emotionally abused by his wife. This abuse continued for many years, until I finally found the courage to speak out. 

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     My childhood was a constant battle over my voice and my destiny. I didn't learn to read or write until the third grade.  When I was eight-years-old my parents decided to place me in a children's mental-health-facility. I was having 300-500 black-outs a day. I was also showing signs and symptoms of a post-traumatic stress disorder - brought on by the recurring abuse that was taking place.  During this time, God gave me a prophetic vision about Kenya, Africa. I  turned to my parents and said, "Don't worry. One  day...when I'm all  grown up...I'll be in Kenya surrounded by children who have AIDS , and then everything I have gone through will be worth it." I really had no idea what I was talking about...

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     In the winter of 94' I was raped by a gang member. My attacker made several attempts to kill me but failed to do so. Soon, rumors began to spread about the attack. I was pushed, tormented, threatened, and called a liar. I went from being the most popular girl, to the most hated – literally overnight.​ These past events led to suicidal thoughts, drugs, alcohol, rebellion, witch craft, and numerous counseling sessions. I threw my only Bible in the trash. I hated Christians. I refused to acknowledge God. I went from agnostic-to-atheist, and this is where I would settle, until my Freshman year in college.

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​      When I was nineteen I heard this inner voice say, "If you're going to believe what you believe, then you need to make-sure you're a hundred percent right, before you get to the end of your life...and discover that you were a hundred percent wrong." 

Soon afterwards, two planes hit the twin towers, and 9/11 emerged. ​

 

     My assignment was to disprove God. I dove into research. I studied literature and different religions - all in an effort to prove that God doesn't exist. What I found was startling. It turns out, you can't prove God's existence, but you can prove that Jesus did exist. He wasn't a made-up character. There is factual evidence that Jesus walked this earth. It is a historical fact. Even well-known Historians who are atheist, will not deny the existence of Jesus Christ.

 

     Jesus gave us a choice - to believe or not to believe. I could spend hours telling you what I discovered, but that's another blog for another time. I chose life. I chose Jesus. Since my decision to follow Christ, I have seen answered prayers and countless miracles, and that's enough for me to believe that God does exist. My dear brothers and sisters, may you find rest and reassurance, in the only name that matters - Jesus Christ.   ​

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   "Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Matthew 11:28-29