|  Why I Left the Church When I was about 10 years 
                                old, my Mom and I occasionally attended the Seventh-day 
                                Adventist church in a nearby town. The Adventist 
                                Church was very legalistic back then, though I 
                                did not understand what that meant and so had 
                                no concept of that at the time. I thought of myself 
                                as a Christian though I had never had a conversion 
                                experience or asked Jesus into my heart. I'm not 
                                even sure I ever heard the Gospel clearly explained 
                                to me. I gave intellectual assent to the truth, 
                                that Jesus was the Son of God who came to die 
                                for my sins, but I didn't have a personal relationship 
                                with Him. This was not a saving faith, for the 
                                Bible says that "even the demons believe--and 
                                tremble" (James 2:19). The turning point toward 
                                disaster came when I borrowed a sermon tape from 
                                the church library. The tape basically said that 
                                Christians never sin. They probably used Scripture 
                                references such as I John 5:18 -- "We know that 
                                no one born of God sins." But this is a poor translation. 
                                What it actually means in the Greek is that no 
                                one born of God continues in sin, that is, a truly 
                                saved person will not be able to live in continuing 
                                sin. It does not means that a saved person never 
                                sins, for I John 1:8 says "If we say that we have 
                                no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth 
                                is not in us. First John 1:9 starts off "If we 
                                confess our sins..." This presupposes that Christians 
                                do sin. Moreover, verse 10 continues the thought. 
                                "If we say that we have not sinned, we make Him 
                                a lair, and His word is not in us." Another verse 
                                the tape may have used is Numbers 15:30. This 
                                verse says that anyone committing a willful sin 
                                shall be put to death and that no animal sacrifice 
                                is sufficient, but that "that person shall be 
                                cut off from among his people." This verse does 
                                not take into account the myriad number of verses 
                                in the New Testament, such as I John 1:9, that 
                                our sins are forgiven in Christ. "If we confess 
                                our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive 
                                us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 
                                People also fail to realize Old Testament stories 
                                such as that of King David's adultery with Bathsheba. 
                                This was a willful sin, yet he was forgiven. What 
                                I took away from the tape, whether or not it was 
                                explicitly stated, was that if I sinned even one 
                                more time in my entire life, that I would be unredeemable. 
                                In short--it would be the unforgivable sin. When 
                                I sinned in some minor way shortly after this, 
                                I fell into depression. I felt as if, in the words 
                                of a well-known evangelist, I had "outsinned the 
                                grace of God." I thought I had nothing but hell 
                                to look forward to when I died, and life felt 
                                so short. What was even 60 more years in comparison 
                                to eternity? I didn't dare tell anyone and the 
                                haphazard church attendance of my Mom and I must 
                                have ended shortly thereafter. I had no pastor, 
                                no mention of God in my home. Additionally, I 
                                had lost the only thing that makes life worth 
                                living--hope. My weight dropped, not precariously, 
                                but a bit. I contemplated suicide, but what good 
                                is ending it all if I only had eternal torment 
                                to look forward to? And so I stayed alive, living 
                                in total fear. Feeling that God had forsaken me, 
                                I forsook Him. He wasn't very likable anyway. 
                                I hated Him. Grace was missing from this picture. 
                                Also missing was the work the Holy Spirit does 
                                to help us follow the will of God. It was about 
                                a year and a half later that I opened the phone 
                                book and randomly called a pastor, telling him 
                                my problem. He reassured me that I had not committed 
                                the unforgivable sin and that God would take me 
                                back. This could have been a turning point in 
                                my life, a turning back to God, but it wasn't. 
                                Perhaps it was because spirituality was not encouraged 
                                in my home, that we never attended church, that 
                                my Dad looked down on Christians. Perhaps I was 
                                still angry at God and saw Him as not very likeable, 
                                much less loveable. Perhaps all of the above. 
                                But for whatever reason, whether I decided for 
                                myself or it was decided for me, I didn't go back. 
                                If I had not lived it, I would find it hard to 
                                believe that a sermon tape could derail a person's 
                                walk with God for 15 years, yet that is what happened 
                                to me. Even though I knew the way back was open, 
                                I did not go back. But I still had and needed 
                                to fill the "God-shaped hole" that we all have 
                                within ourselves. I hated the Christian God, so 
                                I eventually went looking for acceptance in the 
                                arms of other gods. In my late teens I became 
                                interested in the New Age, then later in Wicca. 
                                I can see now that I was still searching for truth, 
                                and for love and acceptance from God, but I was 
                                searching in all the wrong places. How I wish 
                                I could go back in time! I would sit down with 
                                my 10-year-old self and warn her away from that 
                                sermon tape. If she heard it anyway, I would explain 
                                the true Gospel message--grace, and forgiveness 
                                of all sin. I would show her the truth of forgiveness 
                                from the Bible. I remember a picture of me when 
                                I was about 10. I am filled with sadness as I 
                                look at that little girl and think back on what 
                                was yet future for her. How I want to fix it! 
                                How I want to stop the pain! We live in a fallen 
                                world and the god of this world is Satan. He saw 
                                a vulnerable little girl interested in the true 
                                God and used the legalistic church she attended 
                                to draw her away. If it were not for God's direct 
                                intervention when I was 25, I never would have 
                                found my way back. Mad at God! I used to be really 
                                angry at Christians. And is it any wonder? They 
                                followed a God who was mean, vindictive and would 
                                smite you for any little thing you did. He demanded 
                                more obedience than I could give. I felt that 
                                God was disgusted with humanity. When I lived 
                                in Berkeley, California (1990-1992) I used to 
                                go over to the university and listen to people 
                                taunt the Christian speakers on the plaza. I would 
                                involve myself in this as much as I could. One 
                                reason I wanted to learn about the Bible was to 
                                use it as "ammo" against them. Over a period of 
                                about eight years God softened my heart and brought 
                                people into my life who showed me Christian love. 
                                By the time I took my second undergraduate course 
                                at University I wanted to learn about it for the 
                                sake of knowledge, not as ammo. I practiced Wicca 
                                for 4-5 years, beginning in about 1991. I was 
                                dedicated to the Pagan path that same year by 
                                the coven I belonged to, and in 1992 was initiated 
                                as a Witch. I also went to many public rituals, 
                                and began to make a name for myself by writing 
                                articles for Pagan magazines such as Green Egg, 
                                Circle Network News, and Hole in the Stone. The 
                                Beginning of the Beginning In 1995 I began reading 
                                my Bible again--going through the New Testament. 
                                It didn't seem to do anything at the time except 
                                fill some gap. I didn't know why I wanted to read 
                                it; I just knew I had an interest in it for some 
                                reason. Salvation begins with God, of course, 
                                but He often uses people to accomplish His will. 
                                In that sense the beginning of the beginning was 
                                with Jim, a liberal Christian I had met on the 
                                Internet. In January of 1996 he went through some 
                                difficult times and asked me to pray for him. 
                                I began by praying to the goddess whom I worshipped 
                                at the time, but then thought that I should pray 
                                to his God. After all, his problem should be brought 
                                before his God. I remember how humbly and apologetically 
                                I approached his God that day. I told Him I wasn't 
                                asking anything for myself, that indeed I wouldn't 
                                expect anything if I did ask. Then I presented 
                                my request for Jim. But I did end up asking for 
                                something for myself, and it turned out to be 
                                one of the most important things I have ever prayed 
                                for. I can't tell you why I did it and even now 
                                I'm not sure of the reason, but on two occasions 
                                after my prayer for Jim, I tacked on a request 
                                for myself: "God, please help me to get to know 
                                You." At the time I thought the prayer so important 
                                that I promptly forgot about it. Life continued 
                                on as always. But God hears sincere prayers, and 
                                He heard that one. He had always worked behind 
                                the scenes, but now my prayer had given Him permission 
                                to work openly. Things began happening, slowly 
                                at first. The next milestone on my journey toward 
                                God was just over a month away, at the end of 
                                February. Enter Charles A month after those prayers 
                                I met Charles, a Canadian, on the Internet. He 
                                became invaluable to me over the next few months. 
                                He helped to answer my questions and concerns. 
                                I believe he was truly sent from God because the 
                                timing was too perfect. Charles and I met when 
                                I was cruising the soc.religion.christian newsgroup. 
                                One day I posted this question: "In one hundred 
                                words or less, why are you a Christian instead 
                                of something else? Why do you believe? Please, 
                                no sermons. I've had quite enough. I just want 
                                to know why you believe what you do. Thank you." 
                                As you might imagine, I got quite a few responses, 
                                some of them very long (I guess they didn't read 
                                the part about no sermons?), and some much more 
                                respectful of the length. Charles tried to be 
                                respectful, keeping his to 150 words. He gave 
                                me a clear, concise answer, but that wasn't what 
                                caused me to write him back. What caused that 
                                was a single line at the end of his e-mail, looking 
                                more like an afterthought than anything else, 
                                but still an honest question. "Out of curiosity, 
                                why are you a Pagan?" he asked. And I replied, 
                                and we just kept writing. God Shows Up A month 
                                after this, at the end of March, I went to a small 
                                Christian music concert held in the gymnasium 
                                at St. Mary's College in Moraga. It cost only 
                                $5 and was really nothing spectacular. Jesse Manibusan 
                                was opening for Margaret Becker. I have always 
                                loved Christian music and I wanted to buy a tape 
                                from Jesse (it couldn't be bought in a store.) 
                                That's one reason I went. But at the concert something 
                                happened that I will remember for the rest of 
                                my life. There I was, minding my own business, 
                                enjoying Jesse's music, when I became aware of 
                                this incredibly loving Presence that filled the 
                                room. After being taught a God that was mean, 
                                angry, and spiteful, this Presence of pure LOVE 
                                startled me. There was no way to reconcile it 
                                with what I had learned. I hated God, ran from 
                                Him. I had spent the last several years of my 
                                life doing that. Still, He came after me. While 
                                I am sure that the Presence was there because 
                                of the music and the love of the people, and not 
                                for me, there is no doubt in my mind that I was 
                                led there. It took me completely off guard, and 
                                when I got home that night and found myself alone 
                                in my room with my thoughts, I began to think 
                                about it, and I knew some things would have to 
                                change. It set me off on a month-long search for 
                                this God. During this time many small coincidences 
                                occurred, too many and too small to chronicle 
                                here, but more than enough to convince me that 
                                this God was real, powerful, and that He loved 
                                me. It is a scary thing to be chased by God, but 
                                exciting, too. You know you're safe and in good 
                                hands, but when you're currently worshiping other 
                                gods, you don't know which hands are the good 
                                ones anymore. Let me just tell here a couple of 
                                the strange things that happened as God reached 
                                out for me. Days after the concert, with God very 
                                much on my mind, I was listening to a secular 
                                lite rock music station on my Walkman when the 
                                song "Right Here Waiting" came on. The chorus 
                                goes like this: "Wherever you go, whatever you 
                                do, I will be right here waiting for you. Whatever 
                                it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right 
                                here waiting for you." I felt God calling me through 
                                that song. It was Him singing to me, asking me 
                                to come to Him. The following day I was listening 
                                to my Walkman again when I heard the beginning 
                                of a commercial. I couldn't tell you what they 
                                were selling, but these two sentences leapt out 
                                at my ears, "Are you listening? Do you hear it?" 
                                That's all I remember, but it was enough to get 
                                me to think of God. After all, how does one not 
                                listen to God? A few days later, another song 
                                on the radio. The chorus went like this: "I loved 
                                you, you didn't feel the same. Though we're apart, 
                                you're in my heart. Give me one more chance to 
                                make it real." In those words I felt God asking 
                                me to seek Him one more time before throwing Him 
                                away. I felt Him tell me to stop running and just 
                                give in. Trust. There is one other thing I wish 
                                to mention before moving on: two dreams I had, 
                                one just before I was saved, and one after. The 
                                differences in their tone is worth noting. First, 
                                some background and a clarification. The Satanist 
                                in the story below is just that_a Satanist. Satanism 
                                should not be confused with Wicca, as Wiccans 
                                do not worship Satan, and in fact, do not even 
                                believe in him. It is impossible to consciously 
                                worship something you do not believe in. Most 
                                Wiccans I knew (and still know) are wonderful, 
                                law-abiding folks who simply disagree with me 
                                in some key theological areas. They are not Satanists, 
                                and should not be confused with them. However, 
                                as a Christian I do feel that because Wicca does 
                                not acknowledge the God of the Bible, it is wrong 
                                and therefore evil, though Wiccans themselves 
                                are not conscious of this. Ok, now on to the background 
                                of the dreams. I was attending college at the 
                                time, and in one of my classes was a Satanist, 
                                Jay. (I learned his name when we ended up having 
                                a few classes together over time and I would occasionally 
                                make small talk with him before class.) He was 
                                a nice guy, never acted untoward to me, but he 
                                freaked me out anyway. He missed a lot classes 
                                between the beginning of the year and the midterm, 
                                but after the midterm he began to show up more 
                                frequently, and instead of sitting in his usual 
                                place in the back, moved forward in the desks 
                                until, just after my conversion, he was sitting 
                                with me in the front row, just a few seats away. 
                                Even though he had never done anything to hurt 
                                me, his mere presence became a symbol of evil 
                                in my life. Toward the end of April, about a week 
                                before my conversion, I had a dream. I had been 
                                thinking about God so much that my mind, overwhelmed 
                                with all that was happening, put my fears into 
                                symbolic form. I'm walking toward my college campus 
                                and it's night. A van pulls up and the Satanist 
                                guy from my class is driving. Suddenly, in the 
                                way dreams just "move," I find myself in the passenger 
                                seat of the van. There is no invitation on his 
                                part, and no acceptance on mine. I'm just suddenly 
                                there. I ask him to let me out at the next block, 
                                but he just keeps driving, and soon we are away 
                                from the campus area. I crawl behind the front 
                                seats to the back of the van, but then I realize 
                                that no matter where I go, I'm still in the van 
                                with him. I realize I need to get out. I crawl 
                                back up front. I tell him that I'm a "white-light, 
                                fluffybunny" type Wiccan and this seems to turn 
                                him off. But the scariest part of the dreams was 
                                when I asked him, "What do you want?" I will never 
                                forget his reply: "To get to know you better." 
                                I know it was only my own fears, that evil and 
                                good were duking it out over my soul, but it shook 
                                me up a bit. It took me an hour to get back to 
                                sleep, after I had written everything down. About 
                                two weeks after my conversion, I had a second 
                                dream, markedly different in its mood. I'm working 
                                in the cafeteria (I worked part-time in the cafeteria 
                                at my college). I'm just starting my break and 
                                am in line at the taco bar to get some food. On 
                                the other side of the bar is Jay, also getting 
                                some food. He asks me if I would like to go to 
                                the movies with him and I tell him no. Right at 
                                that point, out of nowhere, a man who I took to 
                                be another student, speaks up and tells Jay to 
                                lay off me. Jay asks me if he is my boyfriend 
                                and I tell him no, wondering myself who he is. 
                                Jay and my mysterious "rescuer" exchange a couple 
                                more sentences that I don't catch. At the end, 
                                Jay tells the newcomer "You'd better be careful," 
                                and then he goes to sit down to eat. The new guy 
                                just sort of disappears. I couldn't tell you what 
                                happened to him. I go to a table away from Jay 
                                to eat my food. Charles said that he thought my 
                                "mysterious rescuer" was him because he was praying 
                                for me, basically "standing in the gap," and that 
                                this sort of thing did not make Satan happy. Perhaps 
                                on a subconscious level I knew this and hence 
                                had the dream. Visions and Prayers There were 
                                many times over the month of April that I prayed 
                                to Jehovah, asking Him to help me. Toward the 
                                end of the month I reached the point where I told 
                                Him that, though I wasn't willing to follow Him, 
                                I was willing to become willing. Another time, 
                                about a week later, I asked Him to help me to 
                                love Him. I prayed that I would get to know Him 
                                and learn about Him. I prayed that He would show 
                                me the way He wanted me to go, walk with me down 
                                it, and tell me what to do to serve Him. Often 
                                I "felt" Him listening and knew I was heard. I 
                                knew that if I was going to get to know this God 
                                that I would have to learn to trust Him. And so 
                                I used a technique I'd learned as a Wiccan. I 
                                visualized myself on one side of a doorway with 
                                the Goddess standing near me. Jesus stood on the 
                                other side of the open door. I remember saying 
                                to Him, "Give me one good reason I should follow 
                                You?" His response stopped me in my tracks: "Because 
                                I love you." Jesus kept reaching out for me, telling 
                                me to take His hand. No matter how hard I tried, 
                                I couldn't do it. And then, one night in mid- 
                                to late April, it happened. I closed my eyes to 
                                do the visualization, and I could take His hand! 
                                I knew that He wanted me to step through the door 
                                as well, that stepping through the door was a 
                                sign of real trust, but it was a few more days 
                                until I was able to do that. Once I had done that, 
                                I knew I was crossing a line, a line of trusting 
                                God, maybe only a little, but more than in years. 
                                He was patiently working with me, knowing that 
                                I could never ask Jesus into my heart if there 
                                wasn't at least some trust there, however small. 
                                April of 1996 was the most difficult month for 
                                me with coincidences abounding. I felt God reaching 
                                out for me, and yet I kept shrinking back. Due 
                                to my interest in Christianity I was currently 
                                attending a class in Christian history at my college. 
                                The teacher believed in the hands-on approach, 
                                and one of our assignments was to go to some services 
                                and write a report. We had to attend Orthodox 
                                Lenten and Easter services, and a Catholic Easter 
                                service. So there I was, struggling with God very 
                                hard, and having to attend all these services. 
                                Don't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor! 
                                Acceptance Finally, on May 3, 1996 at about 6:45 
                                p.m., I called Charles and had him pray with me, 
                                and gave my life to Christ. But it wasn't during 
                                the prayer that I felt it. It was when I said, 
                                "I want Jesus in my heart" that I felt it. I had 
                                accepted Him. I was Christian. Me, the Witch, 
                                a Christian! Ironically, this was four years to 
                                the day of my dedication to the Pagan path--to 
                                the very day. Later I discovered that Charles 
                                had had a strong feeling for half that day that 
                                he should pray for me, and that at the time of 
                                my phone call he had been, off and on, for about 
                                six hours. Riding the Fence Of course, I didn't 
                                stop my Wiccan activities right away. Soon after 
                                my conversion I attended a large Pagan festival 
                                in Northern California. I felt it may be my last 
                                Pagan "fling", so I went even though I knew God 
                                didn't want me to. However, I didn't count on 
                                Him showing up. Within a day and a half of arriving 
                                I was very confused. I realized later that going 
                                there was like walking into a spiritual battle 
                                without armor on, like Paul writes of in Ephesians 
                                6. As a new Christian I was a target of the enemy, 
                                and here I was willingly walking onto the enemy's 
                                ground with no protection! I was so confused that 
                                I called Charles (all the way in Canada!) on a 
                                pay phone. He told me to talk to God. I said I 
                                didn't know if God would listen to me because 
                                I was being so bad. He assured me that God would 
                                hear. I agreed to think about it. Two or three 
                                hours later I went out behind the Meadow Building, 
                                sat under the oak tree, and began speaking to 
                                God out loud, not a prayer really, just talking. 
                                But He heard and He came. I hadn't spoken two 
                                sentences when I sensed this Presence under the 
                                tree with me. As at the concert, it took me off 
                                guard. Unlike the concert, this was a completely 
                                personal experience. He was there for me, because 
                                I had called Him. I expected Him to be angry with 
                                me for doing something I knew He didn't want me 
                                to do, but He wasn't. Now I know that He meets 
                                each of us where we are and gives us exactly what 
                                we need. I needed understanding and compassion 
                                at that point, not judgment, and that's what He 
                                gave me. But His presence made me angry. I didn't 
                                know what to say, and I wasn't going to repent. 
                                He was being too loving by coming to the festival, 
                                coming after me, so I told Him to go away. He 
                                refused, remaining near. I repeated the command. 
                                He still didn't move. Finally I had to get up 
                                and walk away. If He wouldn't leave, I would. 
                                He remained close for the rest of the festival, 
                                reminding me that He was there just waiting for 
                                me to call on Him, to come back. Needless to say, 
                                all this made a big impression on me. Later, an 
                                acquaintance of mine, Bruce, the man who later 
                                baptized me, told me He didn't go away because 
                                I had invited Him into my life when I gave myself 
                                to Him. He wasn't about to leave me alone. Choosing 
                                Sides I was baptized at the end of the summer, 
                                but not without having to first choose sides. 
                                Two days before it was to happen, Bruce discovered 
                                that I had not yet renounced Paganism. He told 
                                me he wouldn't baptize me unless I did. It was 
                                hard for him to tell me this, and hard for me 
                                to hear it, but it needed to be said. I am glad 
                                he put Christ and the Gospel before the comfort 
                                of either of us. He helped me to understand how 
                                important baptism is: How could I undergo a death 
                                and rebirth initiation ritual unless I really 
                                was dying to my old life? How could I be raised 
                                to new life in Christ if I was still holding onto 
                                and practicing the old ways? I mention my baptism 
                                because it was an important turning point. I call 
                                it my "Joshua moment" because, like Israel with 
                                Joshua, I was being given a choice of whom to 
                                worship. I made the same choice they did, a conscious 
                                decision to worship only Jehovah. Giving my life 
                                to Him on May 3 was only the beginning, as I had 
                                not given up worshiping other gods. He worked 
                                with me and on me, patiently walking me to this 
                                decision point. Results Much has changed in my 
                                life since I accepted Christ. I have a sense of 
                                peace I never had before. Somehow this God puts 
                                to rest all the doubts that the Goddess never 
                                could. Even when I run from Him I know He still 
                                loves me and that someday I will be with Him in 
                                heaven. He answers the questions about this life, 
                                and the life to come. He tells me everything will 
                                be okay, and that He'll never abandon or forsake 
                                me. He shows justice tempered with love, which 
                                is mercy. Directly after my conversion my relationship 
                                with my boss improved dramatically. Where once 
                                he threatened to "let me go" because of my bad 
                                attitude, he no longer spoke of this, and became 
                                downright friendly. My co-workers also mentioned 
                                how happy I seemed all the time. (Dancing with 
                                my mop as I clean the floor is not depressed behavior.) 
                                Other people have noticed that I complain less. 
                                I also worry less. I had a bad attitude and was 
                                irritable. The Goddess was not very helpful when 
                                I wanted to change these self-destructive behaviors. 
                                I was, in fact, unable to change no matter how 
                                hard I tried. With God, I didn't have to try. 
                                It just happened. The peace and joy He gives really 
                                is beyond all understanding, and one's attitude 
                                cannot help but change when bathed in this love. 
                                Some people will tell you that Christianity and 
                                Wicca can be blended, that you don't have to give 
                                up one to practice the other. This is untrue. 
                                I tried to blend the two, but at every step the 
                                Holy Spirit told me I had to choose (Joshua 24:15). 
                                I've naturally begun to re-evaluate who the Goddess 
                                is. I've noticed that there have been times when 
                                I was in life-and-death situations and called 
                                out to her, only to get no response. One situation 
                                occurred in January, 1996 when I was hit by a 
                                motorcycle as I crossed the street. In my pain 
                                and fear I called out to her. I received silence. 
                                She promised she'd never forsake me. She lied. 
                                Conclusion We worship a wonderful God! Who else 
                                than the God of the Bible, the only true God, 
                                Jehovah, could take an initiated Witch worshiping 
                                other gods and bring her to the Gospel light? 
                                What other God would bother? I deserved justice, 
                                and justice dictated that I continue to live, 
                                and eventually die, in the dark. But God, in order 
                                to show His mercy and magnify His glory, stooped 
                                down to me even though I had persecuted Him and 
                                blasphemed the very glory I should have worshipped. 
                                I used to worship other gods; now I worship the 
                                one true God. Under Joshua's leadership, the Israelites 
                                were given a choice of whom to worship: "Choose 
                                for yourselves today whom you will serve" (Joshua 
                                24:15). Joshua then told them who he would worship: 
                                "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" 
                                (24:15). And the Israelites chose the same: "Far 
                                be it from us that we should forsake the Lord 
                                to serve other gods" (24:16). Like Joshua and 
                                the Israelites, I too have chosen to follow the 
                                Lord, and Him alone. This story doesn't have an 
                                end, as no story about one's life ends until that 
                                life comes to an end. I hope this helps or enlightens 
                                you in some way. May God bless you richly as you 
                                search for and walk with Him.
 
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