Grab some popcorn..
I have heard many testimonies in my life, some being from people who weren’t saved their whole life and suddenly became a lukewarm Christian. Others were from people who had to experience a loss to motivate them to turn to a higher being. Then the few remaining were from people who luckily had a friend who encouraged them to accept Jesus into their life.
As I heard their testimonies I would think to myself, “Well what’s my testimony? My dad’s a pastor, I have always been a Christian, I got baptized at the age of six, I prayed every night before I went to bed, I have never not believed in God. So, what do I tell people? What fervent story do I have to share?” I always felt like my story was boring, so I never told it. I rarely gave information unless it was asked. I never wanted a conversation to be all about me. I didn’t like being the center of attention. The VERY last thing I wanted was pity. Besides, I had never heard God’s voice, or been moved by the Holy Spirit. So really I felt there was nothing to tell.
My story is simple really. I grew up in an apartment with my mom, dad, brother, and sister. At the age of 12, my mom moved out of the county for a better job opportunity. Around this time I had no idea what was really going on in the house. I knew I had friends that I didn’t want to leave, and I had a program at school I didn’t want to drop out of, so I stayed. Well, we stayed. My dad and I.
My brother and sister, who had already graduated high school, then moved to Texas to live with their dad. By the end of summer of my sixth grade year, we had to move out of the apartment. From that point on, life was a struggle. I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with three other people from seventh grade to tenth. I then moved in with my aunt who had a better living environment, but in the midst of everything I was going through, I never felt a spiritual growth or decline. My relationship with God was at the same place it always was. By middle school I was praying every morning and night. Slight increase there. I would talk about God to some of my friends who may not have had a true understanding of Him. I started listening to the Bible app every night when I would brush my teeth. My routine with God grew, but spiritually I didn’t.
Time went on, I entered high school. My social group increased, and as it increased, so did my love for the world. I still prayed, still confessed my belief, still listened to the app. But I started realizing that I was in the 8th book of the Bible, and I had no idea what was going on. Because while I was “listening” I was distracted by other things. I would think about this song I recently heard, or a funny moment I had at school. Then when I was done brushing my teeth I would think, “What did I just listen to?” and couldn’t even answer. And instead of going back and listening again, I would say, “Well if God wants me to remember, I’ll remember.” and go watch tv until I fell asleep. That is how distant I had become. What started as a dedicated deed to God became so unimportant to me. It was never because I hated God, or to get back at God. I just became in love with the world. I didn’t participate in sexual immorality, nor did I party and drink, but the way I treated people became less and less holy. In elementary school, I was barely liked. In middle school, I was barely liked. In the beginning of high school, I tried so hard to be liked, so I treated certain people poorly to “fit in”. Was I a bully? No. Was I a “mean girl”? No. Was I a jerk? Absolutely. In eleventh grade people knew my name. People spoke to me, people followed me on social media, people recognized who I was and for the first time in forever, I was liked. I was bitter towards those who had been there when I had no friends, and I was more caring towards those who I just met. I would thank God for expanding my friend group when really the people I was hanging around were not benefiting me. And before I knew it, I became a lukewarm Christian.
Eleventh grade went on to be the best year of my life. Senior year was almost the opposite. Class of 2020. The beginning of my senior year was horror in a nutshell. Suddenly no one liked me, suddenly I liked no one. I was even more bitter than I had been before, and somehow each month got worse. I would make a friend, and lose that friend. I was “exposed”, confronted and frowned upon. College deadlines on every corner. FOMO, major FOMO. I was taken advantage of because of my FOMO (that’s a story for a different post). If it wasn’t for band and homework, I definitely would have taken a very sharp turn in a very bad direction. It got so bad that I personally was happy the school year was cut short. That opportunity to escape from the emotional pain I would have had to endure for the remaining of that school year totally compensated for the cancellation of my prom, senior night, and graduation. That was how bad it was. That was how bad I was. The last day before spring break turned out to be the last day of student attendance (well, physically). During “spring break” I found my Bible stories book, and I began reading it every night, I started actually listening to the Bible chapters at night, and I would read Bible guides online to further my understanding. I felt like spiritually, I was growing. Until, it got worse, and basically everything I have said up to this point has been the precedent.
In a nutshell, I started “dating” a boy for a month before school was cancelled and he brought a happiness that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Our relationship consisted of phone calls and text messages for a good portion. Lot of toxicity on both of our parts, and fast forward four months later, he broke my heart. Through the years of my life, I had always been the strong one in my friend groups. I never had boy problems because I was never with a boy. I never cried. I rarely vented. I was the listener, mediator, consoler, counselor, and overall, friend. Ironically enough, by the time this was happening, I had lost the remaining friends I did have. I had no one to talk to. I basically fell into the biggest depression I had ever felt. I kept asking myself, “How did I get like this? There is no way this could be happening. Not to me. I’m Leah Snell. I don’t cry, I don’t let boys mistreat me, I don’t let anyone mistreat me.”. I lost myself. Somehow, I lost myself. I regretted everything I did for him, which led me to regret everything I did for anybody. Then I had no choice but to label it as karma for the way I had treated people in my past. I lied to people, I deceived people, I hurt people. And because of that, I hated myself. I cried more in two weeks than I did in the last five years. So what did I do? Pray. I prayed, nothing. I fasted, nothing. I waited, nothing. Covid cases were rising again so I couldn’t go anywhere. Still had no one to talk to. I couldn’t tell my family because they didn’t even know about the boy in the first place. So I had no choice but to bathe in my sadness. I cried in private. I prayed in private. I reminisced and cried some more. I prayed and cried some more. I was on a never-ending crying spree. I worried about what was being said about me. I had absolutely no hope. The only good thing I could think of was that school was out so I didn’t have to see anybody. I questioned my faith. I questioned God’s existence. I questioned God’s love for me. I felt like everything I had done to strengthen my relationship with God had been pointless. Despite that, I continued to pray. I still had faith, I just questioned it. A lot. I would hear other Christian’s experiences where they asked God for a sign or a miracle and received one minutes to hours later. Then here I was asking God for the past weeks to remove me from this pain and agony and felt absolutely nothing. Mind you, I was in the middle of Psalms when this was happening to me. And for those who don’t know, Psalms is the book in the Bible full of prayers. So as I would listen, and cry, I held on to the little faith I still had.
Little things happened in the midst, and I cried some more. I really started to give up at this point. Then a girl I went to high school with texted me about a Breakthrough Conference her church was having. (And my “Then” isn’t seconds later, or even hours. It’s days. And in between these days of course, I was crying.) I had not a single clue what she was talking about. I didn’t really want to go. I knew it wouldn’t help me in my current situation. I would be surrounded by people I did not know, or possibly even like, I would more than likely be forced to mingle, and there is a high chance something or someone there would bring back the PTSD I had been praying so hard to be freed from. So I said to God, “If you want me to go, make me go.” And before you ask, no. I wasn’t suddenly hit with a burst of motivation to go. I just figured it wouldn’t hurt, and I have no reason not to go so, why not. And so I went. All three nights. In three nights, I experienced something I needed all along: a breakthrough. On the second night we were told to write down on a popsicle stick everything we needed a breakthrough from. I wrote on the front and back of the stick and still ran out of room. When we were done we were told to hold up the popsicle stick, and break it. I immediately started crying. Now at this point crying seemed to be my go-to, but this cry wasn’t my typical cry. It wasn’t a cry of sadness or pain. Instead it was a cry of relief. I felt comfort. I felt love. I felt whole. I felt God. All the bitterness and hatred I had was gone. All the pain I had was gone. The baggage I had been carrying was gone. Suddenly I was free.
You’ve probably ran out of popcorn.
God knew this breakthrough experience was exactly what I needed. And despite the fact that I had always been a Christian, always prayed, always had the right idea, I never acted on my religion. I tried pleasing others instead of pleasing God. I would put my relationship with God below my relationship with others because I knew God would always be there, would always forgive, and would always love. That’s why I lost everyone. God had to remove everybody from my life for me to finally turn to Him the way I should have. The way He deserved. I prayed, yes. I fasted, yes. But I was only fasting to propitiate. I was only praying as hard as I was to seek happiness again. And what I was praying for was the same thing God was removing. If God removes something from your life, He’s not going to give it back. He’s going to replace it with something better. So while I felt like He was abandoning me, He was really isolating me so He could execute His original plan.
I stopped caring about what other people would think, what other people would call me, what other people would say. What was once important to me, isn’t anymore. I’ve forgiven everyone who hurt me, and I apologize to all those who I’ve hurt. I stopped worrying about the negative things people would say about the old me, or the doubts and accusations they may have about the new me. I’ve changed, you can change. If you’re reading this, it’s not too late. Don’t let past experiences separate you from God. If anything, let it draw you closer towards Him. It took a while, but I finally realized that my story is not boring. My story is probably one of the most authentic stories there are.
This is my story.
