A FRIEND'S TESTIMONY
"Things happen to me,
So that things can happen in me,
So that things can happen through me."
For reasons I do not understand I feel the need to tell my stories. Not of my worth of my "usefulness".
Not of Love or of earthly tragedy. These will be stories of struggle and redemption, failure and salvation. The on going story
of God’s work in my life. I am 22 as I begin this, but he has done so much that I don’t think I can remember it
all. Why this would be useful or needed, I don’t know. Somehow I feel that this will be useful to someone. Perhaps it
is meant to help my husband, a friend, a brother or sister in Chris, or even me… I really have no idea. But my heart
cries out to tell these stories. My life is not magnificent by any means. I’ve never been a "perfect" Christian, most
of these stories will begin with some failure on my part, however, that makes Him more glorious and His power more evident.
Perhaps I am a fool, thinking that I can find words to adequately describe these events, or thinking that some experience
I’ve had could impact anyone… but only God knows…
Father, I feel you leading me to do this. Why I do not know but I know you do. Father help me to remember
with clarity the events you wish me to recall. Help me to tell these stories truthfully and thoroughly… so that others
can truly experience what happened. Give me perseverance to stick to this and do it well and when the time comes, Let me not
be afraid to share these stories. Let some good come from this, Lord. Father I pray for whom ever you intend to read this.
Lord let all that is of you stay with them… and anything that is of me fall to the ground as dead. Father speak to them
through me what ever they need to know or learn Father let it shine through and may they never forget.
Thank you Lord for what you are going to do!
In your Name AMEN
I have always heard that you should start your testimony by describing who you were before you knew
the Lord. That for me is not a difficult or complicated task. I was raise Roman Catholic. I’ve never doubted God’s
existence or what He’s done for us. My family is exceedingly Catholic, which has been both a blessing and a curse for
me. (this is a story in and of itself.) As much as being Catholic is incredibly important to my family, I don’t remember
getting many of my values from my family. No long talks or discussions. Things just were the way they were. Church every Sunday,
Advent wreaths and Lenten fasting, holidays and High mass, The works. It wasn’t questioned. Looking back it seems that
my parents wouldn’t have had any answers to give had I though to ask questions.
Almost everything I learned of Christ, morals, and the like came from church and school… St.
Catherine’s. A tiny parish and school in a neighborhood that was slipping away. Most of my childhood memories involve
that place. Mostly because I spent the entirety of my "school career" there till I started high school. Religion class was
a daily event, either taught by a teacher or one of the parish priests. It really wasn’t a spiritual thing more like
a history class - This IS what happened - Making sure we believed what we were supposed to believe. Every year it was pretty
much the same until we reached the seventh grade, and unusual things started happening. A new teacher was hired to teach the
seventh grade and math to all of the middle school. Mrs. Heartly was retiring, much to the relief of my class. She was known
as hard as nails and she terrified all of us. So the news of a new teacher was a tremendous relief to us. What we didn’t
realize was how the new teacher would impact us.
Miss Mary Jean Wolak came to us as a fresh young face. She was only 27 and that alone made us excited.
We thought she’d be so much more relaxed and fun than the "old ladies" who’d taught us for the previous 7 years.
For the most part we were right. She was a bright and happy person, she was the first to help me actually understand math.
My parents will tell you that she got me to do my home work and that I actually got an A in math unlike every other year before
or since. But of course that’s not why she stands out in my memory. There is a very specific reason she still is my
favorite teacher.
That year they decided to try and make our seventh and eighth grade years more like high school by
having us alternating class rooms for various subjects. Mrs. Zabinski taught science; Mrs. Jagmin, English; Social studies
was taught by Ms Uhen; and of course Miss Wolak taught Math. Instead of "home room" we started each day with Religion class.
Miss Wolak taught the entire seventh grade class every morning which in and of its self wasn’t unusual. What was unusual
was that Miss Wolak wasn’t Catholic. She called herself Christian - without denomination, something we didn’t
think was possible. It struck us as odd that she was excited to teach us about God. Her eyes just sparkled whenever we discussed
things. She didn’t really teach. Religion was suddenly no longer boring and repetitious but became more and more interesting.
Her enthusiasm was something we were largely unfamiliar with. We didn’t understand why she didn’t make the Sign
of the Cross before she prayed or how it was that she prayed as if she was talking to someone she knew. She made us memorize
verses from the bible. Which was completely new, and she played us "church music" that was upbeat and fun! These weren’t
little kid bible songs either, she told us they sang these at her church. She sang and prayed with her eyes closed and her
hands open and slightly raised. We noticed a lot of little things like that everyday. We knew she was different but we couldn’t
figure out what made her different.
One day she came to class and sat down on the front of her desk - when ever she did that she came
across more of a friend we were chatting with than our teacher. But something was different this day. She was almost nervous
and uneasy. She told us that she had something she wanted to talk to us about. She talked about prayer and church asking how
we felt we did such things. She asked if we’d noticed the different ways she did certain things and of course we had.
She was the only person who acted the way she did as she prayed or sang. She began to explain what made her different. And
we were all captivated well I know I was.
She told us that, since we were only a year from high school, we were old enough to start thinking
about religion in our own terms. We were getting to the point where it was time to decide or at least start really thinking
about what we believed. I don’t think many of us had ever really questioned what our parents and teachers had taught
us. But then again, having an adult say we should ask questions made us feel responsible and empowered… even a bit grown
up.
She told us that faith was something God gave us. And if we had faith that was wonderful, but there
was so much more. She said praying and going to church wasn’t all there was to being a believer in God. She said it
was possible to know God much more deeply than that. In fact, He wanted us to know Him personally. How strange! The words
God and personal in the same sentence. He wanted not only to be our God but our Savior father and best friend. This was so
completely foreign to us. We were raised to think that the saints prayers were more listened to than ours, to fear God as
unapproachable and distant, that only confessing to a priest could bring forgiveness of sins… and so many other things
that were directly contrary to what she was telling us. Amazingly, she told us that we didn’t need to stop being Catholic,
we didn’t have to change how we prayed if we didn’t want to, there wasn’t any long involved class or ceremony
to go through. TO have this personal relationship, with Jesus alive in our hearts, and our best friend… all we had to
do was ask.
I couldn’t believe it. I was shocked to find there was so much more to having faith than anyone
had ever told me. How wonderful to have Jesus walking with you everyday. To be able to talk to Him as I talked to my best
friends. How could I ask for such a thing? Why would He want to know me? She said that if we asked God to come into our lives
and change our hearts He would begin to do amazing things in our lives. I remember her eyse welled up with tears as she told
us how amazing His love was for each of us and how he wanted to know us one on one. He wanted to be apart of our everyday
lives. If we asked and truly believed that he was God and that Jesus died for each of us that He would be with us forever.
I was excited! Who could be a better friend than Jesus? I wanted this so much I couldn’t stand it, so when she asked
us to pray along with her if we wanted that personal relationship I tried to pray as hard as I could.
Being twelve or thirteen I expected drama… Harps or a bright light or something extraordinary
telling me God had heard me… but nothing happened. Miss Wolak told us that we could pray at home when were alone if
we wished that praying with someone wasn’t important but that we should tell someone later on. So that night I prayed
again I asked over and over thinking maybe I did it wrong the first time and He didn’t think I was sincere or something.
The next day Miss Wolak assured us that God did hear us. That He doesn’t always work in miracles,
mostly He took His time working in our lives. With that comfort I stopped expecting some divine intervention to explode into
my life. Yet something astonishing was about to happen that was nothing I ever expected.
Late that night I was standing in front of my mirror, brushing my hair as I did every night before
bed. This is where the story becomes difficult to tell…
As I stood there, My room seemed to slip into a strange darkness as if the lights had dimmed or a
haze had fallen, but I knew that wasn’t what happened something was very wrong. It seemed colder and I felt a shiver
down my spine. A horrid feeling came over me as my room felt vile and disgusting - an evil so intense that I can’t even
begin to describe it.
I felt a strong hand grasp my left wrist and thrust it down to my side and squeeze till I was forced
to drop my hair brush. I could feel the hand, the long fingers, but there was nothing there. It hurt so much but I couldn’t
see it. Another hand snatched my right wrist and both my hands forced to my sides and held there while yet another set of
hands pressed on my shoulders with such strength that I dropped to my knees. I trembled in fear, I had no idea what was happening.
I wanted to scream I tried so hard, my mind raced trying to figure out how to… but no sound would come, I couldn’t
even move my lips. I stayed there, trapped by four unseen hands, trembling for what seemed like hours without end. I could
almost hear something like laughter or maniacal whispers float passed my ears. The air in my room was so vile and thick I
could hardly breathe.
As quickly as it began, suddenly I realized I could move and the "presence" was gone. I leapt onto
my bed and curled up into a ball against the wall; clutching my knees to my chest, eyes darting around the room. My heart
felt like it wanted to bound right out of my chest and I gasped for air. I began to weep and my mind raced… What had
just happened? I didn’t believe in ghosts - should I have? Was this some effect of my new relationship with God? Wasn’t
He supposed to be with me? Protecting me? Thousands of questions like this came to mind. Finally I pleaded "God what have
I done? Why did this happen? Help me, Please!" Immediately comfort and peace filled me, I felt like a child in her fathers
arms. Held by invisible arms, strong and protective, while my fear slipped away. I fell asleep feeling warm and safe.
I woke the next morning completely rested. It only took a moment for me to remember what happened
the night before… Had it been a dream? It was all so real… but it couldn’t have been… things like
that just didn’t happen. Before I crawled out of bed I had convinced myself it was a dream… Until I stood up and
my knees ached horribly. I looked down to see terrible bruises where I had hit the ground the night before. By the time I
was dressed I had decided I couldn’t tell anyone, especially not my parents. They would think I was lying or that I
was completely insane.
Everyone who saw me that morning asked if I was ok. Mom said I looked pale, My friends though I was
sick. I passed it off as nothing and told them I hadn’t slept well the night before (which wasn’t true I have
never slept better before or since).
As I mentioned earlier every school day started with religion class. And so I began to debate…
should I tell Miss Wolak? What on earth would I say? Would she believe me? Would the rest of the class hear about it and laugh
at me? I had no idea what to do.
Miss Wolak started the class by sitting on the front of her desk. She had decided that we would to
something a bit different that morning. She wanted us to get into small groups of our friends. We could talk about anything
we wanted to but she encouraged us to use the time to talk about anything that may be bothering us. She told us that she had
the feeling that some of us needed an opportunity to do that. She couldn’t have been more right.
It took us no time at all to split up in to our groups. Jamie, Cheri and Phil, my three best friends
were gathered near the front of the room with a chair waiting by the time I had gotten up the courage to stand up. I don’t
remember what any of them talked about, I don’t know if I ever heard them. Finally I was the only one who hadn’t
spoken, they all knew I had something on my mind and it took them a while to convince me that I should tell them. I was terrified,
so sure that they weren’t going to believe me. I stared at the floor and told them every detail… When I finished
I looked up at their faces. They were completely shocked. With tears welling up in my eyes I told them that I knew they wouldn’t
believe me. One at a time each of them said they did and then tried to show me that I had to tell Miss Wolak. She’d
know what to say, she’d know what happened. They called her over and again I explained what had happened… hoping
she wouldn’t think I was lying.
She put her arms around me and hugged me. She looked deep into my eyes and told me everything was
ok she did believe me. She explained that God has a plan for each of our lives and by asking God in to my heart he was starting
to put that plan in to full swing. She said each person was vital to God’s plan but some have more in pact than others.
She said that the same force that tempts us also tries to prevent us from doing what God has in store for us She said the
force knew God had plans for me and decide I was a threat, that it had to try and stop me from believing and following Gods
will. I had something great to do something the devil was trying disparately to prevent me from doing. She laid her hands
on me and prayed She asked my friends to pray as well. As she prayed she thanked God for me and my new found faith and ask
him to place a hedge of protection.
Even today it’s amazing to me. That as a 12 or 13 year old girl I was such a threat. I know
there are others who have had to deal with more severe spiritual attack. But that experience was enough to impress on me that
our actions as Christians are very important. And that someday each of us would do something that the devil would try to block.
Every time I am faced with an opportunity to share Christ or I am fast with a difficult situation I wonder if this was the
reason the devil thought me such a threat. Or if it is yet to come. I don’t think I’ll know until I get to ask
my savior face to face. Even when the devil tries to tell me I’m useless that I’m unworthy to be used for Gods
purpose… I remember what he tried to do to me that night. And I am reminded what a liar he is and not only do I know
that God will use me but that I am important some how as each and every soldier of Christ is and will always be.
Elisabeth's testimony below:
http://amightywind.com/elisabeth/whoisese.htm