I Didn’t Come Clean—I Came Needing Cleansing! (My Testimony)

Before You Read...
This one’s different.  This isn’t just a story—it’s my story.  Not a devotional. Not a quick post. Not something I wrote for likes.  This is something I actually journaled the day before I got baptized.  It’s real. It’s raw. It’s long.  And honestly? I almost didn’t share it.

This is the story of how a tangled-up, overwhelmed, half-functioning, sleep-deprived, healing, neurodivergent mama stood in the middle of her mess and finally stopped running.

It’s not the kind of testimony with tidy takeaways or perfect spiritual growth charts.
It’s the kind where the breakdown came before the breakthrough.  Where God didn’t meet me in a quiet moment of worship—He met me in the loud chaos of motherhood, in the guilt I carried, in the fear I kept quiet, and in the exhausted whisper of, “God, I don’t know what else to do.”

It’s long because healing is long.
Because grace takes its time.
Because sometimes you have to unpack the weight of your whole past to make room for a future that’s finally free.

So if you’ve ever wondered if you’re too late, too messy, too angry, too inconsistent, too anything for God to still want you—
This is for you.
Because I’ve been all of those. And He still pulled me under the water… and raised me up in grace.

This is the rawest thing I’ve ever shared.
But it’s the truest.
And I believe there’s holy ground under every hot mess when we let God step into it.

Take a deep breath.
This one’s personal.

This is What Surrender Looked Like for Me

**(Names changed for privacy)

Sunday, May 19, 2024—God changed my life.  

But that's not where the story starts.
Not even close.

When I first walked into Decided Church, I was shattered—
Not “cracked,” not “a little off.”
I was barely held together.

I had just moved back home after escaping an abusive relationship.  When I met him, I only had one child.
I came back with PTSD, and now two kids affected by the chaos, no money, no car, and zero autonomy.
I came home with nothing but baggage—emotional and literal.

I was done.

And yet…

God had a plan.

Enter Erika** and David**

They had invited me to church, and Erika had mentioned a Wednesday morning women's group.

A few weeks later, I finally texted her:
"Okay! I think I'm ready to go.  What time did you say it started?"
Nervous didn't even begin to describe it.
But God...He knows timing.
I didn't know it at the time, but when I walked into that study group, they were on the very first day of a new study: Courage by Jennifer Rothschild— a study on the book of Haggai — it wasn’t just a coincidence. It was divine choreography.

I walked into Decided Church.  I was battered, broken, lost and feeling defeated.  I was just completely running on empty.
To describe my state?  Imagine this:

You’ve got a cabinet that holds your finest China and crystal. It’s tucked away in a safe room—the one kids aren't allowed in. Now, imagine putting a wild toddler in there unsupervised.

Yeah… that was me.
Not the toddler. I was the wreckage.

I was the shattered glass and porcelain pieces of what once felt whole.

The book of Haggai

I'd never heard of Haggai before (still not sure I'm saying his name right, let's be real).
But once the study began, it hit me like a ton of bricks. 
The story?
It followed the Jewish people as they returned to their homeland after exile — only to find ruins. Their land, their temple, their sense of identity… shattered. And they were tired. Spiritually drained. Discouraged. Lost.

The Jewish people were broken.... Just like the pieces of the fine China

But God sent the prophet Haggai to remind them:
He never left

That their strength didn't have to come from themselves.
That rebuilding was possible—not because of who they were, but because of who He is

That message?
It was for me.

Because the truth is — I had been in exile.

Not in a foreign land, but in a life, I wasn’t supposed to be living.
I had been walking through years of abuse, trauma, fear, and disconnection.
And during all that time, God had been trying to reach me… and I wasn’t listening.

I had ignored His whispers. I had tuned Him out. I had let the noise of survival drown out the call to come home.
But that day—that exact day I showed up to church and walked into that group—God handed me a mirror. And through Haggai, He gently said:
“See? This is what exile looks like.
But I never left. And now it’s time.
Let’s rebuild.”
BUT He wasn't done with me yet!

Still questioning

At that point, I was still unsure.
But for the very first time in my life...... I craved more. 

It actually took me a few more weeks before I worked up the courage to attend a Sunday service.
When I did, I sat there staring at the stage—so moved and yet… so jealous of everyone.

I WANTED what they had.

I wanted to be made new.
And I was excited to learn.
But something still felt off.

If I’m honest?
I can’t even tell you what those first sermons were about.
I was too caught up in my own head, sitting in a swirl of thoughts like:
“Why does everyone else seem so joyful?”
“So sure?”
“So... okay?”
and wondering if I was the only one who didn’t get the memo on how to feel holy in a pew.

when heaven moves, hell doesn't sit still

The enemy saw what God was doing in me—and he didn’t take it lightly.

There was a battle.

Satan knew what God was doing...

Because when heaven starts moving, hell gets loud.
The distractions, the doubts, the old lies and habits… they all tried to stake their claim again.

But they didn’t win.

I kept coming.
I kept learning.
And eventually, I realized:
I had been resisting a Grand Entrance—one only Jesus could make.

May 19, 2024 -- It happened

That Sunday, I showed up for the 10am service as usual. 

But God had other plans.

Y’all… He was jealous over me.

Me.
The one who thought she was too broken.
Too far gone.

Too much and not enough all at once.

That day… He opened my eyes through His.

And what I felt?

It wasn’t shame.
It wasn’t judgment.
It was LOVE.

Love so intense, I wanted to wrap it around everyone in the room.
Love so deep, it felt like it poured straight into my lungs.
Love that transformed the way I saw everyone—including those who hurt me.

the hardest thing god ever asked me to do

This intense feeling of love not only embodied me, but I wanted to push it out to EVERYONE.  I understood that I love God, I love you, I love everyone, and in that moment moving forward, I love like Jesus.  I have never felt more loved or more willing to love.  I felt accepted, not broke, but whole. 

In the middle of all this overwhelming love—this tidal wave of grace that had completely wrecked and rebuilt me—God asked me to do something that made me stop cold.

Forgive him.

Yes, him.

The ex.
The one who nearly took my life.
The one whose abuse shattered me.
The one who scarred my oldest child and almost cost our youngest his chance to even be born.
The one whose name still triggered a full-body flinch.
The one I spent years fearing, escaping, surviving.

I stopped for a moment, to think about what I had just heard, to make sure I wasn't going crazy....

It was a holy, quiet moment—where I finally felt seen, safe, and loved—and THEN God whispered:

"Forgive him."!!!!???

I froze.
I cried.
I actually asked God out loud:
“Seriously? Him? After everything?”

And He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t soften it for me.

"Yes. He’s My child too. I’m still working on him. Forgive him—and love him like Jesus."

I didn’t excuse the harm.
I didn’t erase the past.
I didn’t suddenly pretend it didn’t matter.
But I did lay down the weight I’d been carrying.
I did choose to stop letting hate be the cord that kept us connected.
And I did decide to love him the way Jesus loved me—in my own mess, with nothing to offer but pain and brokenness.

I didn’t do it because he deserved it.
I did it because I deserved freedom.
Because my kids deserved a healed mom.
Because Jesus didn’t just rescue me from the pit—He taught me how to leave the chains behind.

Forgiveness didn’t make me weak.
It didn’t make me forget.
It made me free.

and that's how I knew

Matthew 5v44 tells us that Jesus tells His disciples to love their enemies and even pray for those who persecute them.  I understood that not only am I a child of God, but my enemies are also children of God, and they deserved to be loved and prayed for.  I understood in whole what His love means.  I was in AWE-- He took root in my heart--

That’s how I knew I wasn’t just reading about Jesus…
I was walking with Him.
That’s how I knew I didn’t just believe in God’s love…
I had accepted it.

Because only Christ in me could have made room for that kind of forgiveness.
Only grace that changed me could soften a heart that had been through war.
Only a Savior could look at the wreckage and say, “Now we build something new.”

That’s how I knew I was His.

Fully.
Finally.
Forever.

I didn’t just want to be a new creation anymore.
I knew I was one.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
— 2 Corinthians 5:17

May 26, 2024

A week later, I stood before the church body.

—no longer hiding.
No longer lost.

I stood up and declared what God already knew:

That I belong to Jesus.
That I choose to follow Him.
That even when I was at my lowest, He never gave up on me.

Let me say this:

If you feel too broken for God…
If you're sitting in church wondering why you’re not "there" yet…
If you've been through hell and can’t see how anything holy could ever rise out of it—

You're exactly where He can meet you.