The Problem With Testimonies

A man jumps onto stage to share his testimony. He’s wearing mocha-coloured chinos and a white t-shirt, the outline of his muscular body evident in the fall of the shadow on stage. He pushes the hair from his forehead with his fingers and clears his throat. Outside the church building, he’d be sexy. Inside the church, he’s angelic.

“I grew up in a Christian home,” he begins.

“… When I turned 18 I fell away from God. For years I dabbled in drugs and alcohol-fuelled parties, waking in the morning with little memory of the previous night. I’d sleep with girls and get into fights. I even got the devil tattooed on my bicep.” He pulls up his sleeve up to show his nicely toned muscle. We look up in both fear and admiration, the devil giving us a seductive stare from the pulpit.

“One day I woke up and it just hit me  like a truck, you know? I realised just how meaningless all that was. So I turned back to Jesus. I sat on my bed and prayed to the big man upstairs and since then, I’ve never felt more joy and purpose. I don’t need those earthly pleasures anymore, I don’t feel like I’m missing out at all.” He shrugs, a grin emerging as his fingers point to the heavenly sky. “Thanks be to God, right? My Christian birthday is May 16, something worth celebrating I think”. He winks.

We gaze in adoration at this man of the world who, thanks be to God, came back to Christ. We are so dedicated to our faith and know too much of the Bible to ever get away with straying like he did, especially those of us from conservative Christian families. Unfortunately for us, straying in such an extreme way could never be justified to God- we already had the Holy Spirit so it was too late.

However, we were jealous. Here was someone who seemed to have had the best of both worlds. He had worldly experience and a one way ticket to heaven. The Holy Spirit rained down on him in such a powerful way in the midst of all that sin. Wow, his faith must be so much deeper than mine. My faith kind of just… appeared.

Of course, there were those who hadn’t had the best of both worlds. Their testimonies were heartbreaking.

A young woman shuffles onto stage, her head down, her testimony typed on a piece of paper, her hands shaking. She talks about the brokenness of her sexual past with old lovers and about how she came together with her husband with guilt and pain. Thankfully, he showed grace like God does and loved her brokenness anyway. What a Great Guy.

We sit, tears welling in our eyes, thankful that we hadn’t fallen into temptation with our youth group boyfriends/girlfriends and remained strong in our faith. Our wedding day wouldn’t be drenched in guilt and shame like hers was. We were going to avoid that pain at all costs. Praise be to God that she became a Christian and that her husband still loves her. Forgiving her was probably a Really Hard Thing To Do.

Interestingly, I rarely heard about the girls who had to “exercise grace and forgiveness” towards their husbands for their pre-marital sex. There didn’t seem to be the same kind of shame lurking there.

~

When I left the church I, like many who leave, dove head first into the pleasures of the world. I went completely “off the rails”. I quickly discovered that what the church said was true. None of the activities that they warned us against were inherently satisfying or meaningful. I also discovered that most people who choose to live a drugs, sex and rock and roll lifestyle don’t do it to find the same kind of purpose that people seek in churches/Jesus. They simply do it for fun. Out of curiosity. To fit in. To experiment. To distract.

Why must everything be plagued with meaning?

I was scared that dipping my toes into the secular world would cripple me with guilt. I thought that I would come running back to the Christian faith because, according to the testimonies I’d heard, the difference between the lifestyles would be so great, and so painful, that I would be silly not to.

I didn’t come back.

And while I have had many experiences that lacked both class and tact, I don’t look at those moments as gaping, meaningless holes in my being. I see them as side dishes to the meal of life. They add to the flavour. They help me appreciate the meat.

At church camps, we were taught that the problem with testimonies was the structure. We would be given worksheets with subheadings where we could appropriately articulate our conflict with the world and our resolution with God. “Less “I” and more Jesus! Make sure you emphasise the wage of sin!”, our youth leaders would stress as they’d walk between the bodies crouching over our papers and notebooks in the carpeted dining hall.

I don’t quite know how to articulate my issue with testimonies, but I think it lies with the idea that people with a “sinful past” have to look back on their experiences with guilt, and shake their heads and utter how worthless it all was. Was it not the “meaninglessness” of these activities that brought them to Christ in the first place? Does that not therefore make them incredibly meaningful?

When I was assaulted, I used sex to regain my sense of control. Not all of these experiences were positive, but many were. They have made a significant contribution to the person I am today, someone who is in control of her sexual health and in control of the trauma that surfaces in the bedsheets on cold, moonless nights and in public bathrooms. I don’t see these experiences as meaningless. I see them as a part of the journey of recovery. The grey that hovers between the black and the white.

Christians, the emphasis must be on love and grace. Not love and grace BECAUSE of sin, but love and grace irrespective of it. Yes, I recognise that there is a fine line here and you don’t want to be gloating/promoting sin. I totally get that. I also understand that for some people there is a huge difference between life before and life after knowing Jesus. But don’t discredit the past’s role in the present.

Sin helps us learn about ourselves and the world. It’s what makes us wiser. It’s what makes us stronger. It’s what makes us relate to our peers better. We need to respect the role that sin plays in who we are today, and not feel guilt and shame because of it. After all, we’re all sinful. We can’t escape from it. We’re going to fuck up irrespective of our religious affiliation. Let us use those moments to learn, not to mourn. To love, not to shame. Let’s not bring our kids up thinking that sin and shame are mutually exclusive.

Also published on Medium.