November 15, 2010


Oh dear. So much has happened during these past few days, and it all begins last Tuesday. Therefore, I shall start there…at the beginning. On Tuesday after the morning lectures, we were given the details about the Day of Silence that was to come the following day. The Day of Silence is where we were to be given a total of six hours to be completely silent before the Lord. We could go wherever we wanted, and do whatever we wanted in order to find a way to reflect and pray the best we could. I was looking forward to this day like it was Christmas or something! The thought of everyone being silent is simply just a dream come true; I love quiet. Then we were told that after the six hours of silence, there would be an evening service, a time for sharing thoughts, experiences, testimonies, and also communion. Immediately my heart started pounding, and I knew exactly what that meant.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about myself these past few months, it’s that if God wants me to do something, if God wants to get my attention, he will make my heart beat faster and faster. It’s physically unexplainable; I mean, hearts don’t just start pounding on command like that. So when He got a hold of my heart that Tuesday, I knew that at the Wednesday evening service, I was going to share my testimony. I just knew it; it was as if I could see into the future, and that’s a pretty cool feeling.

I went to bed with that nervous feeling lingering at the pit of my stomach. The next day at lunch I could barely eat, and ended up leaving the table early because I just…had to. I spent my six hours of silence in my bed. I hung up my big pink towel above me, creating a cozy little dark safe space. I pulled out my laptop and began writing out my testimony. Although I had written it out many times before, I wanted to use this as an opportunity to sort out my thoughts. At that point I didn’t care how grammatically incorrect it was, for once perfection wasn’t screaming in my ears, I just wrote. Then I fell asleep, and napped for probably the…second time in my life. Surprisingly at supper, I was able to eat large sufficient amounts and even encouraged one of my friends to apply to “The Shelter” ministry in Israel. I really hope she takes it.

Anyway, at the Wednesday evening service I sat myself down in the centre of the second row—one of the most opportune places to sit when you’re preparing to share. One person went up. Then another. Then another, and another, and again, and again. I couldn’t bear the thought of missing this opportunity, so when another moment of silence passed by, God put strength to my legs and I stood up. I walked past the few in my row and walked to the very front of the room. As I picked up the microphone, I could feel all eyes on me. These moments are absolutely insane for me, since having all attention on me is a very rare occasion, which I am absolutely OK with. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, I talked. I shared. I spoke slow. I breathed slow. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care how awkward my sentences sounded, or how awkward I arranged my words. At one part of my story my voice started shaking and I could have cried, but being the tough cookie I am, I didn’t. My favorite part of being up there was seeing all of the faces staring up at me. I remember their encouraging stares like I had taken still photographs of them.

When I sat back down my face turned beat red and my friends beside me were wonderful. My perfectionist personality kicked in and I started thinking of all the things I forgot to say, and what I could’ve said differently. But it’s good to remember that whatever I said, was meant to be said. God had it all planned out from the beginning, didn’t he?

It feels good to have shared. I feel like people know a little more about me and my family and that I’m not just a total mystery anymore. To this very day, I still have people coming up to me and thanking me for sharing. I appreciate it more than they know.

So, I went to Paris last weekend. I’d really love to tell ya’ll all about it, but I’m sorry…I’m just not in the mood. Worst excuse ever, right? I feel like I can only write about one thing right now, and it’s that I’m just not feeling the greatest. Don’t get me wrong, I had the best weekend ever, and believe it or not, it was a huge spiritually growing experience. But right now, I just don’t know how much I can say on here without putting too much attention on myself or making people worried about me. I’m not sure how to explain it without putting it too lightly, or putting it too heavily. I don’t know what else I can say other than the fact that my insides hurt. I don’t know how to be content. I don’t know how to love others. I don’t know how to trust. I don’t know how to take the walls down. I don’t know how to possibly even love myself and to be myself. I don’t know how to write out my true feelings without the fear of being called a hypocrite Christian—-"has Bible school not taught you anything about God’s love?"

Again, my insides hurt.


  1. awe you double posted :)

    love you! I'm so proud of you Jenni. Its so great to see how you're growing and to hear of the changes you are going through and for you to tell us what you're still struggling with! You're doing great and you're right on track! I miss you so much!

    I'm jealous you got to go to Paris, Promise you'll blog about it?

  2. You know, sharing your testimony is such a vulnerable thing - something that a lot of people avoid like the bubonic plague. Satan really attacks people hard especially after one of his beloved's has gone out on a limb for Jesus - like you just did. I am so proud of you. All those things you said at the end, well, it's a process and I think you just slowly work on them, chip away at them, and let the Lord transform you... it (obviously) doesn't happen over night. :D
    I love you! I love that you are growing up, I love that you are still young at heart, I love that you are my lil' Sis and that you'll always be. :D