When I was three months pregnant with my first and only child, the father broke up with me, suggesting I have an abortion.
You’d think I’d have been happy since I couldn’t stand the guy and treated him worse than dirt.
But my crooked little heart surprised me.
There was no way that I was going to kill the life growing inside me; I was on board with Madonna and was “gonna keep my baby.”
Though I was dumped and devastated — I would still bring a new life into the world. Little did I know that the new life growing in me would also be the beginning of my new life in Christ. But this wouldn’t happen easily. I had a heart shaped block of cement in my chest. But God knew exactly how to break it up so he could give me a new one.
The devastating reality of single motherhood brought about an amazing transformation in my life toward the baby’s father. I was instantly “in love” again. Oh! how easily the forbidden things create longing in the heart. What lengths I would go to get him back. I did not want to have a baby out of wedlock, be a single mother. [The irony is that I was living my life in such a way that promoted the very thing I did not want. This is part of the deception of sin.]
I thought I could fix the problem in my own way. He came back to me once before, he’d do it again. Tomorrow was another day.
So I plotted and schemed and begged and bitched my way back into his heart. “Don’t you want me, baby?” I asked. But nothing I tried worked. I had to seek another plan. There must be another way to bring back my baby to me. And I was sure that it was God.
Suddenly I was aware that all my life-style choices caught up with me and I was faced with the consequences. Maybe living for God was a better way, rather than choosing the carnal path to heaven. So I started going to church and reading my Bible everyday. I committed to read through the whole Bible. I rallied friends around me in prayer for one purpose: to bring him back into my life.
After all, isn’t that God’s plan? The nuclear family? If I asked God, He would have to give me what I wanted. So I prayed, fasted, dreamed dreams, and had visions from God. And I screamed, railed, cried, and begged the man who was responsible for the child growing inside me to give me the life I always wanted.
Eventually, my little Emily came. Such a sweet thing. Amazing she came out so well adjusted when her mother caused her so much turmoil in womb, hours of crying and stress to the moon. I loved her so and gave her her father’s last name, because I was sure we would be together soon. God’s perfect plan would unfold in time.
A year passed. And finally, the Lord spoke to me. He answered my prayers — directly. This time next year, He said, I’d have my perfect little family. I was so excited. I told my little crew of friends. They rejoiced with me.
I circled the day on my calendar with bright colors. As the day approached, my heart grew in anticipation. Every now and again doubt would overcome the surety. But I would press it down in faith. The year passed slowly, but as it got closer the anticipation grew: only a month, a week, a day. Today is the day! There was a knock on the door that never came. A crushed heart sought understanding. Oh! It must have been the Jewish calendar that God was referring to. Recalculating…Okay. I just had the day wrong.
I circled a new day. A new hope brewed in my heart. The day came and went — like any other day. But it was not like any other. There was no knock on the door, but there was a giant knock on my head. God lied to me. The reality was plain as day.
Or there was the other possibility; there were really only two possible reasons that God did not answer my prayer the way He said He would.
Either God was a big fat liar. Or I didn’t know Him at all.
After all, the God I had been talking to had promised me a specific date when I would be reunited to the father of my child.
So with a gnarled lump in my throat I had to wrestle with the biggest question I had ever faced. Who is God?
My very future would be determined by how I answered that question. If He was a liar, everything I had ever believed would be suspect. If He was not the person I thought He was — everything I ever believed about Him would be suspect. It was a lose/lose situation no matter how I answered the question.
I did have an answer to the question. And I didn’t like it one bit.
Never Miss A Thing
If you missed the first part of my testimony, you can access it now: How God Turned this Wretch into a Treasure: part one.
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