My birthday, the day I was born, is February 6. But my other birthday, the day I publicly declared my faith in God & was baptized, is February 16.

On the day I was baptized at United Church, I was given the opportunity to share my story. For the anniversary of that day, I originally thought I would rewrite my story, but instead, I think I am going to present it as is. I think the original words tell the story well enough. So, without further ado, here is my baptismal speech that I read a year ago, the reason I trust & believe in a God who loves me & you. Here is my testimony.

I have been struggling with the idea of baptism for a few months now. When the idea was presented to me to get baptized, my initial response was that I already have been. I was baptized as a baby, and this has always been enough for me. And, yet, here I am. 

I grew up in a Christian home. I went to church regularly. As a child, it was never a question for me of whether or not to believe in Christ; that was a given. When I started middle school, I joined my church’s youth group, and by the time I was in high school, I was a junior leader in that group. I served regularly in my community. I shared my faith openly. 

At youth group, the leaders always talked about how our faith would be tested by the world. The leaders said people would mock us for our faith, that people at school wouldn’t want to be friends with us just because we were Christian. I already knew about this. I prayed openly at the lunch table at school, so you can probably guess that I was not one of the most popular kids. But I wasn’t really bothered by this. I had a group of friends that I cared about, and that was enough for me. And I felt like I had already mastered this challenge of having my faith tested. My best friend was an atheist, and we had a great relationship. My faith had never wavered in all of our theological discussions.

But in high school, it became clear that this was not actually the challenge that was going to test me. In my junior year, I became very sick. I had to leave school to deal with my health, which probably sounded to everyone else like the perfect excuse not to go to school. But anyone who knows me would know how awful this was. I was the odd child who, when brought home with a fever from elementary school, would sob and beg my mother to take me back, promising that, despite what the school nurse said, I wasn’t really sick. So, for me to actually willingly leave school at the time that I should have been applying to college and taking my SATs is a measure of just how challenging my daily life had become because of my health. 

The doctors had no answers. They slapped eleven different diagnoses on my head, each one a different chronic condition. None of them had cures. All of them I would have for life. I lost fifteen pounds off of my already small frame in less than a month. Even on warm days, I was huddled in a sweatshirt, my fingernails blue from the lack of blood circulation. Every bite of food I put into my mouth made me sick. My head pounded so terribly that it hurt to laugh. Every inch of my body ached. My skin was so tender I felt as if it was bruised. 

As much as physical health was struggling, my mental health was failing, too. I have always been a perfectionist, and that characteristic went into overdrive when this happened. My life resembled anything but perfect, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. And this shook my faith. 

I went into autopilot. To everyone on the outside, I’m sure it looked like I was taking all these health problems stoically. I have pictures of me in a hospital bed, reading a textbook as the doctors begged me to give my schoolwork a rest, but “no, because, I’m sorry, but the AP test is in six months and I have to be prepared.” I continued to not only go to church, but lead in the church. I continued to share my faith, or, at least, what used to be my faith. The words came easily because I had been saying them for years. But they didn’t touch my heart the same way anymore.

I was angry at God. I was confused as to why he would let this happen to me. I had always been devoted to Him, had always served Him in any way that I could, and yet here I was, sick and helpless and seemingly alone. I knew He had the power to heal, and yet, He had neglected to heal me. He had ignored my prayers, and I was so terribly hurt by this I didn’t even know how to talk to Him anymore.

But on February 17, 2017, everything changed. I had continued to listen to Christian music during the years that I had been sick, hoping for some inspiration, and I had fallen in love with the band MercyMe. I listened to their music regularly. And on this day in February, they released a song that made me remember who I am, and, more importantly, whose I am. 

The song is called Even If. When I first heard it, I liked that it incorporated the old hymn “It Is Well with My Soul” into its melody, because that was always my favorite hymn. The second time I heard it, I actually started to listen to the lyrics. The third time I heard it, I was driving, and I had to pull over because of how hard I was sobbing. 

The song starts with the story of someone who always encourages others, who shares the message of God with everyone else, but he just can’t do it anymore. It’s easy to do it when everything in his life is going well, but what is he supposed to do when he is tested at this level? The song laments that people say it only takes a little faith to move a mountain, which is good, because a little faith is all he has. 

But then he says, “God, when You choose to leave mountains unmovable, give me the strength to be able to sing, it is well with my soul.”

Everything about my faith up until this point in my life had been public. I publicly shared my faith many times. I was a leader in the church. Every time I had given my life to Christ, it was in a public place. But I never truly understood what it meant to give my life to Christ until this moment, when giving my life to Christ was the only option I had to bring any peace into my life. I had never understood that giving your life to Christ meant trusting him with everything, even if my life was spiraling out of control. Even if it seemed like He wasn’t listening, even though He was, and He always had been. And it was there, in the privacy of my car, with the volume on the radio turned up to the max, that I truly gave my life to Christ. 

What did this change for my physical health? Absolutely nothing. There was no miraculous healing. The skies did not open and angels did not descend onto my Hyundai and take away all of my problems. But inside of me, everything was different. He brought a peace into my life that I had been so desperately searching for, and He has reminded the perfectionist part of me that, even in this broken body, in His eyes, I am perfect and I am loved, and that is all that matters. 

Since then, I have trusted God to show me what His plan is for me, and so far, it has been so much grander than anything I could have imagined. He has used my struggles to help others who have faced similar challenges. He has inspired me to help others who are currently fighting health battles. Last summer, he gave me the means and the necessities needed to run with a team across the country to raise money for young adults fighting cancer. I have begun to see the beauty He has created in me by not healing me. And I am so grateful, because what I used to see as the worst part of my life has actually become the biggest blessing I could have ever been given. I am stronger and more devoted to God now than I ever have been. 

So, today, I am here to be baptized because I want to publicly declare that there is a God who loves all of us, who has a perfect plan for each one of us that is too grand for us to ever comprehend. God has a plan that will bring us the greatest sense of peace and love if we just choose to trust Him.