A Transformed Life of a Non-Believer
When I was growing up, my family didn’t really talk about God. My parents are classic Kiwis when it comes to faith. Don’t really want to think about it, don’t want to have an opinion about it and would rather remain as neutral as possible. So, I grew up simply not considering God at all. As far as I was concerned, God was a whole lot less interesting to me than a certain fella called Santa Claus. I thought about Santa all year round. It was no wonder I got the message early — if you are good, Santa will be good to you. If I am a good girl, life will be good. If I do everything I’m supposed to, I will get gifts.
I was obsessed with my image even as a small child. I needed to look like I was the best kid, even though I knew I wasn’t. Desperate for praise, I was obsessed with how adults, my parents and teachers saw me. One of my earliest memories is making sure I shared my toys with my siblings in public and then stealing them right back when no adults were looking.
As I grew, this blew into full-on perfectionism. At university it became all-consuming. To maintain my sky-high standards, I had to study over 10 hours a day, not to mention handling all of the new adult responsibilities. I became a facade — a happy, successful image on the surface with a terrified, insecure, and frankly exhausted girl sitting underneath. I had no true friends, no one knew the real me. I was stuck in a cycle of deep fear that I would never be good enough, then burning myself out by working to “improve myself”, then self-adulation when I was better than my peers, and then shame again when I wasn’t the best. I was so lost and lonely.
I couldn’t see it at the time, but looking back, the foundation I had built my life on was so unstable. To base my view of self on other achievements or shortfallings was so unpredictable and ruined many relationships.
Throughout my Uni years, my two closest friends were both Christians. One friend, let’s call her Michelle, asked me along to the young adult group she attended every Thursday after class. And every week I said no. I had to study/practise/literally anything else to do. This continued for years, until one day she wore me down, and I, at last, agreed to go with her (how good is hindsight? What a beautiful picture of how God peruses us this paints. Michelle remains one of my dearest friends).
At the event I went to, I sat opposite a girl who was sharing her testimony with the group. I had never heard anything like it. I didn’t understand a lot of what she was saying, especially the part about Jesus. I hadn’t thought much about Jesus before that day, other than looking at him on a stained-glass window outside our local church. I didn’t know he was the son of God, and I certainly didn’t know what “dying for our sins meant”.
What got me most from her story was the life change. She had once felt as lost and lonely on the inside as I felt and now she felt peace. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
That same girl ended up sharing the gospel with me a few days later. She explained to me that we are all sinners and that there is nothing I can do to work my way to God. All I needed to do was accept Jesus as the King and ask for his forgiveness. And I WAS FURIOUS! How dare she call me a sinner, I’m a good person. I don’t do anything wrong; I get good grades and I help people. Who is she to call me out like that? I told myself I was never going back.
After months of wrestling, I decided to ask God to reveal himself. Sitting outside under the stars on a cloudy night at a friend’s bach, I talked to God for the first time. I said, “God if you are real. Show me a shooting star”. There I thought smugly, now let’s see if God is real. I waited. And I waited. 5 minutes went by and no star. My heart began to sink. I realized with a shock that I WANTED God to be real. I began praying inside, “Please God, be real”. And then it happened. The sky cleared and I saw it. A blazing, bright star that seemed to travel across the whole sky. I yelped “Did anyone else see that???” and they all looked at me as if I were crazy. It all came to me in a moment that I had prayed “Show ME” a shooting star, and God had done just that.
“Ok, God. So, you are there, you are real, but I don’t need you. I can do it on my own.” Right?
And then the most painful, and oddly beautiful month of my life happened. God began slowly and painstakingly revealing the depth of my sin. The worst nightmare of any perfectionist.
I saw for the first time my obsession with perfection, my constant comparison game with those around me, my selfish ambition and my cruel tongue. He brought me to himself in his perfect way and timing, until I could not refuse him anymore.
On the bathroom floor, I was brought to my lowest point. Crushed under the weight of my sin, I prayed, “God I cannot do this anymore, Jesus take my life, make me yours. I want to be yours.” And that was the moment everything changed. God wrapped me in his love, and I felt pure joy. I felt weightless. Fully forgiven, fully loved, fully His. God had saved me from the path to ruin I was walking.
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