A Coming of Age Story

I was lying in bed the other night trying to fall asleep when I realized something: not all of you know me.

I pour my heart out to you and you could know nothing about me, except where my heart is at that moment.

So I think it is time for a little story. Time to make yourself a big cup of tea, and sit down in a comfy chair, for this story will probably not be that little, although I will attempt to make it as brief as possible while still doing it justice.

Have you got your tea? Mine is a nice apple chamomile. Snuggled in a nice fuzzy blanket? Good.

 And for those of you have already heard this, or even better have lived through it with me, I thank you, for you have undoubtedly have had a bigger role in my life than I may be able to credit accurately.

Here it goes.

My name is Susie. I grew up in a loving family of five in Denver, Colorado. I have two sisters, wonderful parents, and fairly recently a brother-in-law.

Growing up I always knew who God was, I was a pastor's daughter who was taught the gospel every night and every day. I grew up knowing of God, and loving Him, but it was not until I was older that I experienced Him, that I felt His Presence.

I was in middle school, a brat who thought she had all of answers. But then my youth group went to this Bible camp for a week and God forced me to my knees at the alter. Literally.

I can't recall the speaker, or even the name of the camp, but I remember his words. We spent the whole week unpacking Ephesians 5:1-2: "Therefore as Dearly loved children live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God."

He talked a lot about how when we surrender ourselves as Christ did it is pleasing to God, but those messages aren't the ones that really stuck with me.

One night however the speaker was talking about our sins. He referred to them as chains pulling us down when all we want is to rise up and meet the Lord. He told us that God held the key and all we needed to do was ask for it.

I felt the weight of the chains on my wrist, and my knees buckled underneath me, as if a wave had crashed into them. I was in the front row. Right in front of the alter.  Wordlessly I asked, and wordlessly my answer came. Sobs shook me as I felt the weight lifted. I was free.

And I reveled in that feeling. For a while.

The only problem with my first true encounter with the Holy Spirit being at a camp is that it seemed separate from my everyday life. I was gone, I wasn't in the midst of my typical routine and schedule and so when I returned to my house, my family, my typical life, that fire of God dimmed until all that was left was  embers. Glowing, but not nearly hot enough.

So the next time God came full calvary in tow. And He came to me.

I have chronic migraines. I have had them since I was 12 years old. In my 9th grade year they got worse than they ever had been. And I fell victim to something I talk a lot about: fear.

I feared that if I left the safety of my own bed, my head would hurt. I was afraid of the consuming pain. I was so worried that it might come that I assumed it always would. My only safety was my bed, the darkness of my room, away from light and noise and all of the triggers for the searing suffering.

In fact I barely left my room that year because of the fear. But eventually the fear morphed. I had realized how afraid I was, and the fear of the fear petrified me. I literally could not move due to my sheer terror.

My mind was filled with worse-case-scenarios. A brain tumor. Not long to live. Not being able to do something with the short amount of time I must have had left.

But what is worse than those scenarios, is that I accepted them to be real. I convinced myself I was about to die. And it is nearly impossible to get out of bed after admitting that to yourself.

But I had this thing called school. I had to go. I had loving parents who would not let me stay home everyday and wallow in my self-misery. I was so afraid however that I didn't make any friends. I would just be leaving them soon enough. I ate lunch in the library, in a study stall that separated me from the rest of the world. I had stopped trying.

But my parents had another rule. A rule that looking back now probably did more to save my life than anything else could have.

I had to go to youth group, every week. It was non-negotialble.

And so when the winter retreat came it was not a question of my attendance. And thank God for that.

I went and one night we were praying and one of my youth leaders came and started praying over me. He told me of a demon sitting on my shoulder, one whispering lies of fear into my ear.

And after he told me this, I felt the demons claws tearing into my flesh. I audibly heard his hiss. And I was more afraid than I had ever been.

But my leader kept going. He told me that I had the power to cast away the demon. That I was a daughter of God and that I was strong enough. He prayed for that strength.

It came. And for the first time in a long time I felt strong. I had hope. And I told the demon to go back to Hell where he belonged, I told him to never bother me again.

He left me. And then he started attacking my best friend. I saw him this time, swooping so quickly he was hard to distinguish, as if he was a puff of smoke blowing in a rapid wind. We prayed for her, and he left.

But not for forever.

He came back and he sat upon my shoulder. But this time I could see him, I could hear him and I could feel him.

Every morning he returned, telling me I had something to fear, until each morning the first thing I would do is to say "I am a daughter of God, therefore I am holy. Therefore no demon has the right to touch me or whisper their lies in my ear. I am a temple of God, the Holy Spirit lives in me, and therefore I have the power to send you back to whence you came."

And he always left. Until he became less frequent altogether.

And I had learned firsthand of the power God could give me to fight and how important it is to fight.

In fact since then my favorite verse is Joshua 1:9: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you shall go."

And He has been.

I have had my heart broken and I have had loss. I have stifled tears and I have let them flow freely, but God is my constant. He is the glue that holds me together when the world tries to tear me apart.

I had another reminder of it this summer.

And you know what?

After all of the pain I feel really, really good.

Good enough that I barely believe it.

And I know it will not last, but I know the next thing will still have the same constant. I have a rock to build my foundation upon and I cannot be shaken by any scheme of man or power of Hell.

I've already faced both.

I've already conquered both.

And I am ready and willing to do it again.

Because while the fighting is exhausting, the victory with God is more than worthwhile.

Has your cup tea gone cold?

Mine has.

There you have it. An abridged version of my journey to faith. For that is all that really matters. That is what make me who I am.