Celeste H. - Barclay, TX

From Performance Driven to Forever Grateful

I was raised in a large Roman Catholic family and was baptized as an infant, received my first communion, and was eventually confirmed in the church. My RCC training consisted of attending catechism classes which were taught by nuns. I remember memorizing answers to the catechism questions and fearing the wrath of the nuns if I failed to answer a question correctly. I learned to fear hell (which was the punishment for missing church on Sunday or "Holy Days of Obligation" unless you were deathly sick), and remember having frequent nightmares as a very young girl about burning to death in a dark, bottomless pit.

My world of acceptance revolved solely around performance, whether it was in my family or in church, and it became obvious to me very early that I was incapable of living up to the expectations of my parents or the church. God was the angry, short-tempered, emotionally abusive "Father" who was waiting to smack me whenever I blew it because my earthly father was the only model I had for comparison. My mother disciplined in the only way she knew how—in anger and disappointment with children who simply would not act like mature adults. I'm sure there was an element of unresolved anger because she had "lovingly accepted children from God" to the tune of 8 babies by the time she was 27 years old.

I was married in the RCC at the age of 19 to the "good Catholic boy" of my parents' dreams and had our son seven months later; our daughter was born six years later. The wheels came off our God-less marriage within the first year, and it finally culminated in divorce 11 long years later. The divorce was like a death in my family. They were certain that everything was my fault because they had always loved the reserved, innocent boy who became my husband. So I essentially lost my entire family in the process. I spent the next four years trying to fill the vacuum in my heart with a very promiscuous lifestyle that included weekend trips and vacations, alcohol, smoking, clothes, jewelry, and school and extracurricular activities for my daughter. I honestly did not look forward to every other weekend visitations with my son because that meant staying home rather than doing my own thing.

In late April 1987, I was abruptly dumped without explanation by the man that I thought was God's latest gift to me. His rejection devastated me and set me reeling. At the same time I was working in an office with an older woman who was bent on destroying me and my career. I became suicidal. A co-worker had sweetly continued to spend breaks with me (in spite of the profanity and dirty jokes), and she had been witnessing to me about the love of Jesus for about a year. It was during this valley time that she finally got my attention. I remember going back to her and asking if I would have to give up all my friends if I received Jesus, and she promised that I would not. I asked her if I would have to give up other things that mattered to me, and she assured me that I would not. Finally, on Friday, May 8, 1987, I repented and trusted Jesus as Lord and Savior. I remember feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.

My friend invited me to attend her Bible church where I opened the Bible for the first time in my life. She helped me select my first Bible, and purchased it as a gift to a brand-new believer. I couldn't believe that God had written this love letter to me and that I had never read it! I couldn't believe that the Creator of the universe wanted a personal relationship with me! I was a sponge for the Word of God. I got involved in small group studies and began to grow. The Lord gave me an insatiable appetite for truth.

I wish that I could say that I was immediately convicted about all the sin in my life. The important thing was that the faith journey had begun, and I was taking baby steps. One of the first things that I was convicted about was my language, and eventually I was convicted enough about sexual sin to turn away from it. In my zeal to share my newfound faith with others, I managed to further alienate my family. As I have matured, I have learned to not run ahead of the Lord but to go through doors whenever He opens them for witnessing. Most of my siblings and many of my nieces and nephews have heard the Gospel as a result of opened doors, and the Lord has given me compassion for my family in spite of their persecution.

Four years after my conversion to Christ, my son died in an accident only seven weeks prior to his high school graduation. His death rocked my world, and I was paralyzed by the unspeakable pain and suffering from such a tragic loss. The anguish was magnified by my family who was spiritually unprepared to comfort me, and who even said that my son's death was a punishment for leaving the Roman Catholic Church. As if it wasn't tortured enough to live with myself for having made the last seven years of his life miserably painful through the divorce I had instigated and carried out.

In His love and mercy, the Lord had placed me in a loving church family that ministered to me and loved me through the darkest night of my life. He gave me a radical heart make-over in the process, and turned my heart toward compassion for those who are suffering. He gave me a ministry of friendship and encouragement to bereaved mothers and grandmothers who are walking the same path. He gave me a burden for folks who grieve. He gave me a burden for people who are in the end stages of life when He made me a hospice volunteer. And along the way there have been countless opportunities to share the Gospel with folks who are suffering and desperate for relief, comfort, and life. The original "re-cycler"—the One who wastes nothing--has turned all the pain and suffering into something that will glorify Him.

He gave me a whole new set of perspectives. He taught me about ownership—my children and grandchildren are not mine, nor is my husband, my family, my resources, my time...nor any of my possessions. They are all His. He taught me that the most important thing that I can do for my children and grandchildren is lead them to Christ. He taught me to pay attention to the leading of the Holy Spirit: to seek forgiveness now, apologize now, reconcile now, speak or write blessing into the lives of people now.

Above all, He grew and matured my faith in ways that could not have come about without affliction. He drew me into a deep intimacy with my Heavenly Father—a relationship that is transparent and real and abiding. He showed me that there are no gray areas about the sanctity of life. He taught me that earth is not my home, and gave me a longing for Heaven...and I already have some treasures there. He showed me that all His promises are true: He will comfort, He will heal, He loves me unconditionally, and His grace IS sufficient.

As a result of the years of emotional trauma, my daughter nearly died of an eating disorder when she was a senior in college. My sweet little girl, who had become a born-again believer by the time she was 9 years old following my own conversion, had been tormented by the losses in her life and had internalized and personalized them. She now lives a victorious life with a wonderful husband and three little boys—the grandchildren I never dreamed I would have—all from the hand of a gracious Father who withholds what we deserve and gives us what we don't deserve.

And I have had a believing husband for nearly 20 years—a second chance to honor God through a most sacred relationship.

My son never graduated from high school, even though he was the Valedictorian of his senior class and a National Merit Commended Student. He never went to college or had a career. He never married, never gave us grandchildren—and the family name was buried with him. He wasn't there for his sister's ballgames, graduations, her wedding, the births of her three sons. Our first grandson will never know the uncle for whom he was named, and our grandsons will never have an uncle in their mother's family. From an earthly perspective, it all sounds like an unfinished book.

But from God's perspective, our son's life was complete, done, finished when he met the Lord face-to-face in April 1991. And that is a constant reminder to me that we are to live with an eternal, Kingdom mindset because earth is not our home.

I still find it incredulous that no one ever shared the Gospel of grace with me until I was 34 years old. And that a sweet co-worker had the courage to risk a friendship by telling me about God's great remedy for my sin. I hope I never get over the wonder of His indescribable gift. And that I never lack the courage to share the best news I ever heard.

My life verses are 1 Timothy 1:12-17 because I identify with Paul's sinfulness and depravity. "I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because He considered me faithful, putting me into service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent aggressor. Yet I was shown mercy because I acted ignorantly in unbelief; and the grace of our Lord was more than abundant, with the faith and love which are found in Christ Jesus. It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all. Yet for this reason I found mercy, so that in me as the foremost, Jesus Christ might demonstrate His perfect patience as an example for those who would believe in Him for eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart And do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6: