“How would God tell your story?“
I was recently challenged in a Bible study to share my version of my salvation story with God and then invite Him to share His version with me. I put it off for a while, but I finally sat down to share it with Him one night last week, and joked, “How long do You have, God?”
I then proceeded to tell Him exactly how I remembered my story:
How I was only eight years old when I stumbled across an old VHS tape I wasn’t supposed to find with no title. How I saw things I had no idea how to process that planted a seed and began a journey into years of cycling in and out of addiction. How I doubted my salvation because I would go months without “messing up”, but then it would take one moment of weakness to screw everything up and I would beg God to make me clean again.
How I believed that God was good and just, but I never desired a relationship with Him because I was too ashamed that I couldn’t pull myself together. How it took me years of shame and doubt to finally learn that the finished work of Jesus Christ was the only thing that had the power to destroy the addiction that had my heart. And how many times I messed up during those years.
How I lived in chains until Jesus eradicated them with His unyielding, unlimited grace.
I told him about how I was 15 years old the first time I had sex and how guilty and defiant I had felt about it. How two of my friends had been raped their first time, and how I thought making that decision for myself would be empowering. How I fell to my knees in college when I finally realized there were ramifications from that decision that would impact my future spouse. How I lowered my head and cried, apologizing for the years of defiance and anger. How I wondered for several years if my past had disqualified me from ever having a Godly husband, and if it was also going to prevent God from ever being able to love me fully.
I told Him about how grateful I was that He brought a Godly man into my life, who loved Jesus more than anyone I had ever met. How when I finally opened up about the video tape, and the defiance, and all the dark pieces of my past, my now-husband taught me about God’s grace by showing it to me, over and over again. How he finally convinced me that my testimony didn’t have to be covered in shame, and that I could instead use it to break someone else’s chains the same way mine had been broken.
And when I finished telling God all of that, I said,
“Okay. Your turn, God. What’s Your version of my salvation story? How would You describe it?”
And He replied:
“You are My beloved daughter,
with whom I am well pleased.”
Immediately, my tears started flowing. There was no mention of the addiction. No mention of all the sin. No mention of the shame. No mention of the years I lost to doubt and uncertainty. No mention of the valleys.
Because He has rewritten my story.
He has cast my sins as far as the East is from the West, and He remembers them no more.
I am a new creation.
I am His daughter.
And in me, He is well pleased.