My Testimony

(This one was a struggle for me to write.  The subject matter is so personal and, if it feels like it gets a little over the top, it's truly because it comes straight from my heart.  Obviously, there are many many different stories that have affected my testimony but the one below is what I felt led to share.  While reading, keep in mind I'm not comparing my journey, story, and losses with anyone else.  We all have hurts and heartache and comparing one life to another is foolish.  This is simply my story, told from my perspective.  I hope it touches your life because it's a piece of mine I earnestly pour out to you. ~ Druanna)

I once had a minister tell me one of the powerful things I can share with another person is the story of how I came to believe what I believe.

This may be true but, honestly, I can't do this without first sharing someone else's testimony, one that has impacted my life profoundly.  Let me take a moment to tell his story:

Ben was born the middle child of a large family.  His parents were farmers and, as he grew, he would often be seen trailing behind his dad outside, eager to help and get as dirty as possible.  Completely "boy", he drove his older sisters insane with toads shoved in his pockets and pet grasshoppers continually getting loose in the house.  He was a very merry child and had a sensitive spirit.

Ben was quick to lose his temper and, an unusually strong boy, once knocked his older sister out for teasing him.  He was quick to hit.  He was easy to goad into anger.

I'm telling you all this to make one point absolutely clear; Ben was very much human.  He wasn't a saint and had the same selfish and sinful tendencies we all struggle with.

Despite this, there was something about him that absolutely radiated from the inside out; his love for Jesus.  As a small child he would walk up to unsuspecting adults and announce with enthusiasm, "Guess what?  I love Jesus!"  The adult would usually smile at him but he wasn't finished, "And you know what else?  Jesus loves me!" 

Here was a little boy who unabashedly would pronounce his love for the Savior to anyone at any time.  It was a wondrous thing.  Unhindered by the embarrassment or social graces we adults are often constrained by, this tiny soul talked about Jesus as if he was a close friend he had just spoken to.  There is nothing quite as beautiful as the faith of an innocent child and Ben's earnest love and unquestioning belief in his Jesus was truly remarkable to behold.  A little boy, not even seven, and he'd already begun ministering to others around him, touching lives in ways he could never know.

Ben didn't live to see the impact his life would have on others; when he was seven-years-old he died in a horrible farming accident.  He didn't grow to adulthood.  He never married or had children.  He never enjoyed teenage adolescence.  His life had barely begun and was cut short in one minute, a shocking illustration how life is just a moment and breath from living to dead.  All he had were seven years but his short life profoundly and deeply impacted those who loved him.

The reason I tell his story and the reason this boy's life and death are so closely linked to my testimony is Ben was my little brother.  I was thirteen-years-old when he died.  I don't think there are words in the spoken language that can begin to describe the effect this seven-year-old boy's life and death has changed my entire world and rewritten the map of my heart.

At the time of Ben's passing, I'd already given my life to Christ.  Though young when I did this, I was fully aware of what I was doing.  Nobody coerced or convinced me to ask Jesus to take over my life.  I wanted to belong to God.

That's how I became saved but that's not my story.  My story began on the day I started living for God, not before, and has continued every say since.  You see, many people have a rags to riches "Cinderella-ish" testimony of their journey to Christ.  They go through the shambles of this world, find Jesus, and end the story with their salvation.  That's beautiful and truly awesome but my tale isn't like that; I'd barely even lived when I started walking the path of the Christian.  However, I'm very thankful I was saved by the grace of God when I was young; otherwise I don't think I would have survived the trials of life since.  You see, being a Christian does not guarantee an easy journey but it does ensure you'll never walk alone.  Through all the tragedies and joys, through all the loneliness and hurt, through all the triumphs, I've always felt God there with me, holding me soundly with His right hand and keeping me from falling (even though, at times, He's had to drag me along).

My brother dying was one of the first times I felt the strength of God holding me up.  Ben's death was horrific and shattered any sense of reality we as a family knew.  The best way to describe what it felt like is this -- picture my family sitting down to have a photographer take a portrait of us.  Only, instead of taking our picture, the photographer pulls the pin out a grenade and tosses it at us, blowing everyone to smithereens.  That's the way it felt; sudden, shocking, horrific, and devastating.  It was like I was army crawling through the debris and remains of what had been my family, grabbing severed limbs and trying to put everything back together.  It was awful.

But you know what?  Jesus was there.  In the pain and the loss, I never felt abandoned.  In fact, I felt protected and it didn't make sense.  Here we were, going through one of the worst case scenarios a family can face, and I felt like God was there with me, hurting with me, his heart breaking along with ours.  I felt him saying, "Trust me.  This had to happen.  I know how you hurt and ache for your brother.  I know how your parents and sisters and brother are wounded and scarred by what has happened.  But trust me Dru.  I'm here.  You don't understand why this happened.  You don't know why I took him.  But just trust in me."

It was hard: hard to believe God had a reason; hard to realize I may never know the reason; hard to hurt and not be tempted to blame God or demand He return what was His to take in the first place. 

I may never know fully God's purpose in calling my brother home so early but I do know that Jesus never left my side.  Since then, through all the struggles of life, all the heartache, all the fears, all the hurts, He's been consistently there, whispering "Trust me."

My brother Ben believed with a faith as firm as the mountains he was surrounded by.  Even today, if asked, not one of my siblings will ever hesitate to answer where our brother is at this moment; Ben is in heaven, with the Jesus who loves him, waiting for the rest of us to come home as well.

For years I haven't talked about the effect my brother's life and death has had on my faith simply because it's been so painful for many people and is something we don't discuss freely.  Truthfully, a part of it will always be painful.  However, truth be told, I know I've done injustice to his legacy by not sharing his story, his testimony, and my testimony with others. 

Ben's story was meant to be told.  That's the whole point in all this, the whole point in our lives -- they were meant to be lived to the fullest for God in order that we might point others to him.  My testimony is incomplete without my brother's and the story of how one horrible event solidified my faith forever.  Ben's death, Ben's enthusiasm for God, the Spirit of God that radiated from such a small child, has changed me and my perspective on reality forever.  Heaven and God are real!  Never has anything been made clearer to me.  God was there when my brother died and He's never left my side.  Someday He'll call me home as well (praise God) and I'll thank my Jesus for giving us the hope of never ending tomorrows by cleansing our sins. 

And I'll see our Ben again and I'll thank him for his faith, a faith so full of enthusiasm and trust. 

May all of us who believe be able to boldly announce, "I love Jesus!  And my Jesus loves me!"