Journey to Faith
November 2002 — Contributed by Karen Van Dalen
This testimony was originally given during Church on November 23, 2002.
My birth was in itself a miracle. My mother was not supposed to have children after my sister, and she almost lost me. She hemorrhaged and ended up in the hospital when she was only 2 months pregnant. The Doctor advised her that she was to lie in bed and do nothing for the remaining 7 months of her pregnancy.
She followed the doctor’s advice, and when I was born, she dedicated me to God saying, “Lord, I know that she’s yours and that she’s on loan to me to raise as a Christian. I will raise her as a Christian and bring her to church. The only thing I ask is that you leave her with me a long time.” When I was 3 years old, my two closest friends died of meningitis, but I was fine.
My mother is Roman Catholic and my father is Protestant. In my younger years, they both made efforts to teach me about God. They read “Jesus books” to me and took me to Sunday school. I remember having a very strong connection with God at a very young age.
Then when I was 4 years old, I was sexually molested by the babysitter. From that point on, I felt different from everyone else. I was too young to understand it or to say anything.
I felt dirty and unworthy, and I started to doubt God. My idea of what He was changed. He went from being a loving God to being a God who abandoned me when I needed Him the most, a God who either couldn’t or wouldn’t stop these things from happening to me. I kept going to church with my father, neatly tucked those experiences deep inside, and didn’t talk about them again for 15 years. Then when I was 17 years old, my karate instructor sexually assaulted me.
All that I had neatly tucked away for years came rising to the surface. How could this supposedly loving and powerful God let these things happen to me? How could He let so many bad things happen to me? Why me? I resolved that He didn’t love me. I hated Him.
There was a huge void inside. I filled it with alcohol, parties, and people. As long as I was preoccupied with these things, I didn’t have to look at myself or feel the pain. I was different… dirty… unworthy.
“Should I kill myself?” At a nearby dam with one foot over the edge, I spent several nights contemplating it.
Something stopped me.
When I was 23, I moved to Toronto for school. In my second year, I had a Deaf roommate. He became interested in me and refused to let it go. One day, he went on a jealous rage and attacked me. I moved out, and he tried to find me. He then told all my classmates and teachers that I was the one who had attacked him. People believed the stories he made up and turned from me. I was new in Toronto, and now I was alone and afraid.
In a phone conversation, my mother convinced me to go see a pastor. Upon meeting the pastor of a Christian Reformed Church, I was touched by her compassion and understanding. She was genuinely happy, and she had a glow of peace in her eyes that I now identify as the light of Christ. I wanted that for myself. I started to study the Bible with her. We studied topics including the New Age, pre-marital sex, and “Why does God allow suffering?” I remember looking at every Bible study topic and thinking to myself, “I know what these Christians think of this—they won’t convince me!” Then I would leave the Bible study shocked and convicted.
I struggled with many issues—with anger, forgiveness, lust, singleness, surrendering my will, addictions; and the list goes on. At that church, I made several genuine friends. It was through them that I started to see the love that God has for me. He always prevailed. In my deepest time of loneliness and fear in college, the Lord came upon me with great strength—strength that was not my own! A peace, healing, and love I had never known before.
In my third year of college, the Lord convicted me through a friend that I had problems with addictions. One of my addictions was people. Even though I had a relationship with God, I still looked toward people to “save me” from the world, from pain, from myself. I could never be alone; I always had to be out doing something, including things that were church-related. I couldn’t live in my own skin. I was still unworthy, and I wouldn’t look at myself. I also loved the way alcohol made me feel—the way it covered up how I was feeling so I could be the “life of the party.”
I had many addictions, and I repeatedly tried quitting them on my own power and failed. During time I spent in a 12-step program, God completely healed me! He taught me to depend on Him for all my needs and to surrender everything in my life to him. He has taught me that happiness doesn’t come from circumstance, friends, success, or material wealth, but that it comes only from Him.
Last year, I volunteered at a place called “New Direction for Life Ministries,” a Christian counseling organization that counsels to gay people who want to get out of the lifestyle. To get an understanding so I could volunteer, I had to do some reading and watch videotapes. I’ll never forget one of the videotapes I watched. It was a testimony about someone who was sexually abused and the healing words he got from God. The words were: “Daddy’s sorry. Daddy loves you. Daddy’s here.” I received a lot of healing from those words. That’s how I now understand our Loving Father in Heaven.
“Daddy’s sorry. Daddy loves you. Daddy’s here.” Where I once felt bitterness and anger, I now feel compassion and love. Where I once felt prejudice, I now feel understanding. Where I once felt sorrow and despair, I now feel peace and joy. Life is not perfect, but His plan for me is.
The Lord is my Daddy who I can cry to and say, “Daddy, this hurts.” He’s someone I can talk to about my life, someone I can ask for strength when I don’t have any, someone I can praise and celebrate with when things go well. He guides me. He’s my provider, my healer, my love, and my best friend. With Him, nothing is impossible. There are no limits. All you have to do is ask and believe. He will never leave you or let you down.
About a year and a half ago, I came here to this Seventh-day Adventist church to interpret. As I heard the sermons, I thought you were a cult. I thought, “Church on Saturday? Church is Sunday. No eating pork?” I prayed for all of you to see the truth. I studied the Bible even harder in an effort to prove you all wrong—only to find that you were right. After even more study, I accepted SDA beliefs and was baptized at the camp meeting last summer.
God has blessed me abundantly with a wonderful job, a wonderful family, and a wonderful fellowship. I am so thankful to have the love and support of my Christian family.
