My Fresh Life
It sounds like the title of mid-90s sitcom with pretensions to being hip and urban, but it is in fact the story of my transformation over the past four months as I've been going to Fresh Life Church in Kalispell, MT. That story follows below the cut.
I was born into a religious family, and traveled with my father in his ministry. I grew up believing in God -- God was never a remote, abstract being to me, but more like a relative who lived far away but called and wrote a lot. Believing in Him, in short, hasn't ever really been a problem.
Time passed, and I grew in the faith. The constant traveling had isolated me from the world to some extent, but in spite of that I began to search things out for myself. My faith became my own, no longer a hand-me-down from my parents, as I expanded my studies even beyond the bible to other writings, particularly those of the Celtic Church. I gained a lot out of silent, solitary prayer and meditation, and I felt a great closeness with God. Because of this I decided I didn't need church, and deep down I guess I felt that I had had my fill of church, that I'd "served my time" ten times over by listening to the same sermons and same points made and reiterated literally thousands of times, the same old songs sung literally tens of thousands of times. (Southern gospel still grates on my ears.)
Gradually, without realizing it, I withdrew even more. I had plans and ambitions, but resolved to complete them alone -- or rather, with God alone. I didn't really talk to people outside work, school, and family. As this happened, without realizing it, my closeness to God began to slip away. I knew the bible said that you should not cease assembling together with other Christians, but subconsciously I guess I thought that that was a "It would be nice if..." sort of directive. In retrospect, I don't think God wants to be anyone's excuse for withdrawing -- God wants a relationship with each of us, but not that kind of messed up, dysfunctional one.
Though I managed to not kill or steal, by inches I began to mess up more and more, and feel worse and worse about it. I also did some really stupid things, such as carry too many credits in college and substitute 64oz of Red Bull for sleep so I could study. It all came to a head one Thanksgiving a few years ago when that caught up with me and I woke up with crippling chest pain. I went to the ER, and after a cocktail of drugs brought my heart rate down -- it turned out to be a severe episode of tachycardia (fast heart beat) rather than an actual heart attack -- the doctor questioned me very seriously as to whether I had been using methamphetamine. I said no, and he asked again, assuring me that Doctor-Patient privilege would protect me from prosecution, and that he needed to know to treat me. He accepted my second denial, and I promised God that I would do better from then on. I kept that promise about as well as you'd expect, and my downward spiral continued.
This went on, off and on for the next couple of years. I became deeply depressed, because I was aware of how far I'd fallen, and how much better I was capable of, as well as being aware that God had a plan for me and I was not fulfilling it. Things got very dark for me. Treatment for a sleep disorder went awry and made it worse. It continued until it was all I could do to drag myself through each work day and then collapse into a wrecked and broken blob the moment I got home. My doctor was becoming increasingly concerned, and our discussions of potential outcomes of my condition became to include words like "psychosis", "dementia", and "death". Then one day, I made a decision that changed my life.
I decided to go to Fresh Life. I'd like to tell you that I strode through the doors of the Strand and instantly felt better, but that's not quite it. The first time I went, I actually couldn't get in; it was Easter Sunday. Not knowing what to do, I went home. I decided to watch the webcast, and I was blown away. This was not my parents' church, as cliche as that sounds. I'd also like to say I was deeply spiritually moved by Levi's words and that's why I decided to give the next Sunday service a try, but in fact it was a fairly silly thing that made me come back: in his sermon that morning, Levi made a reference to the TV show "Lost", one of my favorites. I figured a church that pop-culture savvy was worth a second look.
So, I went back the next week, and the next. I missed a service or two, but little by little, without me even realizing it, things started to get better. I started focusing more, slipping up less, and I finally worked up the courage to try a novel treatment for the sleep disorder that was crippling me physically, which has worked amazingly well. Then I went to a Veritas Sunday barbecue and struck up a conversation with my (now) good friend John Doty, who along with Pastor Josh Bowers invited me to Veritas the next day. I haven't missed one since. Two months later I felt transformed, closer to God than I ever had. More than that, I felt loved and accepted -- not in the creepy, cultish "love-bombing" way that you see from fringe groups living on compounds in the desert, but in the company of genuine normal friends who shared my passion for life and for Christ. (And frequently, my passion for a lot of other things -- Fresh Life, for all that it is a very "cool" Church, is practically overflowing with geeks, nerds, and quirky creative types. In other words, my people! ;) )
One Sunday during worship I felt the presence and voice of the Lord so powerfully that I was able to truly and honestly offer everything, my life and my gifts to the Lord, and was humbled and overjoyed as I felt him give those things back to me, sanctified to his work and purpose. From there, I couldn't imagine that there were any more leaps forward for me to make, but God had at least one more hurdle in store for me.
Each Sunday and Wednesday, as Levi made the altar call, I would pray for God to draw those who needed Christ forward to receive Him publicly. Imagine my surprise when as I prayed that prayer, I felt the Spirit powerfully, irresistibly drawing me. But I did resist at first -- I thought I surely couldn't have been drawn, given that I was already saved. A vicious voice from somewhere told me that going forward would be like slapping God in the face, denying my relationship with Him and my salvation up to this point. But at that point the drawing I prayed for became an almost physical pulling, and I stormed out of the balcony at the second call, and prayed the sinner's prayer with all the rest. Only later did it occur to me that for all my studies and private communion with God, I had never before made a profession of faith and confession that I was a sinner publicly like that. There was an element of pride I needed to let go of. That night the weight of my many months of darkness left me, and I was changed. I'd already talked to Pastor Josh about being baptized again, as my first baptism was when I was very young, and so the next day I was overjoyed to by baptized by him at Whitefish Lake.
Since then my condition has continued to improve, as has my walk with God. I've struggled and stumbled, and I will continue to, but I'm no longer just wallowing aimlessly in the darkness, instead by the grace of God I'm steadily walking forward with my eyes fixed on the light. And I'm no longer walking alone, but walking with Christ, and with the coolest group of people I've ever known. I thank God for what He's done in me, and what He's doing through Fresh Life. I feel like Lazarus, dead and rotting one day, and then alive and whole the next. And like Lazarus, I'm still wrapped up to some extent in the trappings of my former death -- but also like Lazarus, Christ through His word calls to me, and says "Loose him, and let him go." And sure enough, the bandages are unraveling, and the grave clothes are falling away from me, God be praised.
My name is Joshua Graham, and this is my testimony.
I was born into a religious family, and traveled with my father in his ministry. I grew up believing in God -- God was never a remote, abstract being to me, but more like a relative who lived far away but called and wrote a lot. Believing in Him, in short, hasn't ever really been a problem.
Time passed, and I grew in the faith. The constant traveling had isolated me from the world to some extent, but in spite of that I began to search things out for myself. My faith became my own, no longer a hand-me-down from my parents, as I expanded my studies even beyond the bible to other writings, particularly those of the Celtic Church. I gained a lot out of silent, solitary prayer and meditation, and I felt a great closeness with God. Because of this I decided I didn't need church, and deep down I guess I felt that I had had my fill of church, that I'd "served my time" ten times over by listening to the same sermons and same points made and reiterated literally thousands of times, the same old songs sung literally tens of thousands of times. (Southern gospel still grates on my ears.)
Gradually, without realizing it, I withdrew even more. I had plans and ambitions, but resolved to complete them alone -- or rather, with God alone. I didn't really talk to people outside work, school, and family. As this happened, without realizing it, my closeness to God began to slip away. I knew the bible said that you should not cease assembling together with other Christians, but subconsciously I guess I thought that that was a "It would be nice if..." sort of directive. In retrospect, I don't think God wants to be anyone's excuse for withdrawing -- God wants a relationship with each of us, but not that kind of messed up, dysfunctional one.
Though I managed to not kill or steal, by inches I began to mess up more and more, and feel worse and worse about it. I also did some really stupid things, such as carry too many credits in college and substitute 64oz of Red Bull for sleep so I could study. It all came to a head one Thanksgiving a few years ago when that caught up with me and I woke up with crippling chest pain. I went to the ER, and after a cocktail of drugs brought my heart rate down -- it turned out to be a severe episode of tachycardia (fast heart beat) rather than an actual heart attack -- the doctor questioned me very seriously as to whether I had been using methamphetamine. I said no, and he asked again, assuring me that Doctor-Patient privilege would protect me from prosecution, and that he needed to know to treat me. He accepted my second denial, and I promised God that I would do better from then on. I kept that promise about as well as you'd expect, and my downward spiral continued.
This went on, off and on for the next couple of years. I became deeply depressed, because I was aware of how far I'd fallen, and how much better I was capable of, as well as being aware that God had a plan for me and I was not fulfilling it. Things got very dark for me. Treatment for a sleep disorder went awry and made it worse. It continued until it was all I could do to drag myself through each work day and then collapse into a wrecked and broken blob the moment I got home. My doctor was becoming increasingly concerned, and our discussions of potential outcomes of my condition became to include words like "psychosis", "dementia", and "death". Then one day, I made a decision that changed my life.
I decided to go to Fresh Life. I'd like to tell you that I strode through the doors of the Strand and instantly felt better, but that's not quite it. The first time I went, I actually couldn't get in; it was Easter Sunday. Not knowing what to do, I went home. I decided to watch the webcast, and I was blown away. This was not my parents' church, as cliche as that sounds. I'd also like to say I was deeply spiritually moved by Levi's words and that's why I decided to give the next Sunday service a try, but in fact it was a fairly silly thing that made me come back: in his sermon that morning, Levi made a reference to the TV show "Lost", one of my favorites. I figured a church that pop-culture savvy was worth a second look.
So, I went back the next week, and the next. I missed a service or two, but little by little, without me even realizing it, things started to get better. I started focusing more, slipping up less, and I finally worked up the courage to try a novel treatment for the sleep disorder that was crippling me physically, which has worked amazingly well. Then I went to a Veritas Sunday barbecue and struck up a conversation with my (now) good friend John Doty, who along with Pastor Josh Bowers invited me to Veritas the next day. I haven't missed one since. Two months later I felt transformed, closer to God than I ever had. More than that, I felt loved and accepted -- not in the creepy, cultish "love-bombing" way that you see from fringe groups living on compounds in the desert, but in the company of genuine normal friends who shared my passion for life and for Christ. (And frequently, my passion for a lot of other things -- Fresh Life, for all that it is a very "cool" Church, is practically overflowing with geeks, nerds, and quirky creative types. In other words, my people! ;) )
One Sunday during worship I felt the presence and voice of the Lord so powerfully that I was able to truly and honestly offer everything, my life and my gifts to the Lord, and was humbled and overjoyed as I felt him give those things back to me, sanctified to his work and purpose. From there, I couldn't imagine that there were any more leaps forward for me to make, but God had at least one more hurdle in store for me.
Each Sunday and Wednesday, as Levi made the altar call, I would pray for God to draw those who needed Christ forward to receive Him publicly. Imagine my surprise when as I prayed that prayer, I felt the Spirit powerfully, irresistibly drawing me. But I did resist at first -- I thought I surely couldn't have been drawn, given that I was already saved. A vicious voice from somewhere told me that going forward would be like slapping God in the face, denying my relationship with Him and my salvation up to this point. But at that point the drawing I prayed for became an almost physical pulling, and I stormed out of the balcony at the second call, and prayed the sinner's prayer with all the rest. Only later did it occur to me that for all my studies and private communion with God, I had never before made a profession of faith and confession that I was a sinner publicly like that. There was an element of pride I needed to let go of. That night the weight of my many months of darkness left me, and I was changed. I'd already talked to Pastor Josh about being baptized again, as my first baptism was when I was very young, and so the next day I was overjoyed to by baptized by him at Whitefish Lake.
Since then my condition has continued to improve, as has my walk with God. I've struggled and stumbled, and I will continue to, but I'm no longer just wallowing aimlessly in the darkness, instead by the grace of God I'm steadily walking forward with my eyes fixed on the light. And I'm no longer walking alone, but walking with Christ, and with the coolest group of people I've ever known. I thank God for what He's done in me, and what He's doing through Fresh Life. I feel like Lazarus, dead and rotting one day, and then alive and whole the next. And like Lazarus, I'm still wrapped up to some extent in the trappings of my former death -- but also like Lazarus, Christ through His word calls to me, and says "Loose him, and let him go." And sure enough, the bandages are unraveling, and the grave clothes are falling away from me, God be praised.
My name is Joshua Graham, and this is my testimony.