My Beginning // Counting His Faithfulness Part 1

Sometimes, when life hurts, when it doesn't feel like God is faithful, when the words, "God is good" have become a chant I repeat to myself with no heart change, I think it is good to go back to all of the times in my life that God has proven Himself faithful to me. 



My beginning

 I remember being four years old and listening to a CD of children's Bible songs while my mom was on the phone. The words I heard were simple and sweet, singing, "...come into my heart, Lord Jesus. Come in, today. Come in to stay..." I sang along and realized that is what I wanted for my life. I wanted Jesus to come into my heart. I wanted Him in my life. So I knelt by our sofa and asked Jesus to come into my heart, and my mom cried when I told her what I had done.

 Many believers will share testimonies of how they said a prayer when they were young but did not truly become a Christian until later in their life when they truly understood the gospel. But that is not my story. I knew I was a sinner who deserved the wrath of a holy God. I knew that Jesus died on the cross for my sin. And I knew I needed and wanted Jesus. I praise God that He saved me- not through any merit of my own, but through His mercy and the blood of Jesus.

 When I was in eighth grade, a friend challenged me to get baptized as I had been a professing believer for quite a while. But I was terrified. At my church, baptism also includes publicly sharing my testimony in front of the whole church-  one of my greatest fears. I told my friend no, that I could never do it. But over the next few months my pastor seemed to mention baptism in every sermon. It came up in the most random conversations. I couldn't escape the subject. Then in school I learned about Chinese believers being persecuted for their faith. Many of them were being baptized despite the threat of death that was sure to come with the simple act of being immersed in water. This wasn't something that had happened a long time ago, but a tragedy that was happening right now as I discarded the thought of baptism because of my fear of public speaking. If my brothers and sisters in Christ were risking their lives to be baptized, how could I not be baptized where I would not be killed, tortured, or imprisoned afterword? So in May of 2008, I was baptized and shared my testimony as my body ached from fear, my voice shakily whispered through the microphone, and my eyes glued to the words on my paper. My God was faithful and I did it, but only through the work of the Holy Spirit inside of me.

 This is my beginning, the first few times I can distinctly remember God's faithfulness to me. And it is only my beginning.