Crystal's Story

Please understand as you read this that I post this only by the grace of God. When I was asked to post my testimony... I was struck with fear. I knew at once that God wanted me to do this. I have struggled with what to share and what not to and I have chosen to be fairly candid... This said... it is a little long.
I sometimes feel like I have led several separate lives. There is my childhood, filled with fear, anger, chaos, and scattered with pleasant memories of love. I grew up in a family of 8. I was the oldest middle child. Depending on what year you look at in my childhood, you will see varying happy memories, these became fewer and farther between as I got older, and my mother got more immersed into heroine usage, and my father spent more time in prison. This time correlates almost exactly with my walk with Jesus.

I was raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints or Mormon church. My mother hates it when I call them Mormons. I never questioned it. I would wear my pretty dress on Sunday and answer all my Sunday school questions with the exact same wording and the exact same voice inflections as all the other little girls in their Sunday school dresses. I could tell you my testimony... which was the exact same as all the other children's testimony... no problem. I never questioned it. I didn't have to accept Jesus... because I was taught that to focus on the cross was disrespectful and morbid. Jesus wasn't God... he was my cool older brother sent here to make neat stories for Sunday school.

I was given the Holy Ghost as a gift when I was 8, by 6 old men in 3 piece suits in front of the church, while my mother looked on and cried, and all I could think was..."These guys kinda smell funny." I didn't know what it was to praise Jesus or feel the Holy Spirit. This was all fine... why question it? This is until I hit high school.

It was only in the year previous to high school, that I began to figure out that my life wasn't the same as other kids. They were allowed to leave the house, they didn't watch their mother get beat up by their father... or worse listen to their father beat up their brothers. I spent my childhood trying to protect my brothers from the same fate I had. So I had taken on this role of mom. I made dinner, worked after school jobs so I could by them things, made sure they got off to school, and often took the beatings for their mistakes.

As I hit high school I moved out. I continued in the Mormon church, even taking the 5 am "scripture" classes. But as time went on... and I met my first boyfriend... I began to question it. What did I believe in? A friend I had met in middle school... who is my oldest friend to this day... began to ask me questions, about why I believed what I did....and I couldn't really formulate an answer. All I knew is that I lived in constant guilt and fear of my parents. Somehow... I think, at first just in an attempt to feel loved by anyone, I ended up at her church. 1st Presbyterian. I liked it... though a little weirded out... but the services were 2 hours shorter and the music was fast and pretty. As time went on... and I moved in and out of my parents house...in hopes to protect my brother from whatever crazy strung out people were coming in and out of the house at the time... I became much more involved in the youth group. I went on retreats where I remember just crying because I was so confused... I didn't know what was true and what wasn't. You see I had a Jesus as a Mormon too.

There is no official date of acceptance of Jesus into my heart. Honestly I am not sure I ever did in high school. I like to think I did... I like to think all those teenage warm fuzzies I felt on mission trips to Mexico... and on retreats must have meant I loved Jesus, but I still wasn't sure I trusted Him. And I still wasn't living the life of a Christian. I would smoke and party with all my friends from school Saturday night (and Monday through Friday...well except Wednesday... that was youth group night) and be to church seemingly perfect on Sunday. Very few people knew of my family, or my background... and even fewer knew of my chosen lifestyle.

As I went off to college, having finally gotten my younger brothers out of my parent's house, and into what seemed like safer homes, I was excited at the possibilities. I went to a Nazarene college, having no idea what a Nazarene was. I quickly became aware that there were separate denominations in Christianity, and having been a fairly new Christian, if a Christian at all, I shut myself off. I didn't feel like I belonged.... and I carried this with me for the next several years of my life....

We can call this life number 2... I trusted no one... why should I? No one ever came through for me? I found a small group of people and together we all turned our backs on what little faith we may have had. I, having just recently had one of my best friends killed by a drunk driver, gave up. I dropped out of school moved to Chicago, pretended to attend art school for a few quarters and partied like it was 1999... (except it was 1999... but I digress). I spent the next 5 years, pretending I had never heard of God. I occasionally felt guilt for the incredible sinful lifestyle I was leading, but this was easily cured with pot or alcohol. I moved back home a couple years later.


There I ran into an old friend of mine... who months later I found myself living with and engaged to. My life was no longer in my control. I worked to pay all our bills, I put on a cover for our family and friends, and I Put up with extreme verbal and emotional abuse. The only thing I can credit this man with is bringing me to Bremerton. In hopes to distance himself from my family... as they were catching on... he move us here... nearer to his family.... and it wasn't but 2-3 months later that he was out all night, stoned all the time, and become increasingly abusive. By the time this man and I last saw each other... aside from a court date... I was staring up at his furious eyes while he had me pinned under the hood of the stove.... thumbs place in the exact right spot of my neck... trying to kill me. Turns out... He was a lot like my father was. Luckily for me, against his authority... I had made a friend who called the police and saved my life that night.

I tell you this long list of whoa is Crystals for one reason and one reason only... to illustrate the miracles of Jesus. To show you what my Lord pulled me out of. Four short years ago... I found myself in a crumpled ball not able to leave my house... about to be homeless... and having no idea who I was. A long road later and I can say with full confidence that I am in life 3... or something like that! I am born again. I have found a life in Jesus. I have found myself. I know my purpose now is to be a servant. God has blessed me with a family through Seaside... a family I had really never known before.

I have struggled with trust... especially in men. I have overcome the fear that God will leave me just like my father did. God has put a love in my heart for others and children.... and it is a sincere love. I have always been a servant... but in this case it is not an enslavement.... it is a joy. I have been able to overcome fears of marrying and having my own children....so much so it is one of my deepest desires. I always feared my parents lack of love and affinity towards violence was genetic... but I have truly seen God's grace and I have grown a heart that is capable of so much love. I have been able to truly forgive those that have hurt me, and discovered God's protection in setting boundaries.

So no, I have never said a prayer on a back of a card, but I have truly felt the spirit in me. I am so grateful that my Lord and savior died on that cross for all my many sins. And I am just blessed with my own personal testimony of the wreckage that the Lord has pulled me out of.

As I walk this walk, I truly desire that I can exemplify Christ. I hope my story may be helpful to another woman who may have been abused or child who is getting abused. I know the life I have lived has given me both wisdom (to some degree) and empathy toward others in this situation. And I am open if ever any woman may need a listening ear. This too is all Jesus.