My story of Death
Before I begin our journey to death and back, I must explain my family background. My family consists of very spiritual individuals. My grandfather was as Abraham, walking in the ways of the Lord, even long before he knew the Lord. My mother is a very spiritual woman. She takes after her father. I have two uncles who are pastors. I also have a cousin who is a pastor. I have another cousin who is married to a pastor. I have a cousin who, at a tender age, went to heaven and came back. My mothers' younger brother tells the stories of my grandfather and he has tapes out. My mother and one of her sisters see visions and have dreams of holy essences. Out from my uncles' family is a son who is blessed with the gift of praise and so much more.
As for me, I am a Christian Hmong girl. I have many dreams, whether they be human or not; I do not know. I have had the blessing to see a death in my dreams. I have been secretary, vice-president, and am now a member at large, in our youth group. I am an outspoken, broken, confused, weak and vulnerable child of God. I had always been scared of the dark because that's when Satan pursued me. After I was baptized I would feel these presences of evil. I slept alone and I began to fear Satan. He became my ultimate idol against God. Why? Because it was Satan that I feared, it was not God that I feared.
About the time when I became vice-president of my youth group, I fell. I fell back down the mountain to where I started a couple of years before. Not only that, but I fell down hard. I was breaking. No, I was broken. This caused me to be the worst possible vice-president ever. For that, I apologize to my youth group. I did nothing to help our youth and to be there for them. I was in a state of depression. I don't really understand why or how that came to be. I mean, besides the fact that I'm overweight and definitely have the personality that a Hmong man would never want in their women, I had no real reason to be depressed. Maybe it was because I was confused. I wasn't going to college and all my relatives were telling me that I had to go to college to be someone special, to be worthy. I didn't know at the time but I know now; God was changing me.
One night I was just so fed up with everything in this world. I felt weirdly compelled to die, to not be of this world or to truly be of this world. That night I found myself lying on my closet floor weeping and in so much pain. It wasn't physical pain but it was the worst kind of pain. My heart, my mind, my soul was tearing apart. At that moment I denied myself of Jesus Christ. I became Judas Iscariot and I turned to the devil. You see, I kept calling for God to take away my pain and heal me. To take me under his arms and love me. I was listening for my master to call upon me and release me. He never came, or so I thought. I broke out and sold my soul to Satan. I said, loudly and angrily with so much brokeness and betrayal, "Satan if you can make me beautiful, if you can fix my life. If you can make me better and feel better. I give it all to you. Take my soul. I can't stand this pain anymore. If you can change my life and make me thin, beautiful, smart, and successful, and pull me out of this rut: my soul is yours." I gave my soul freely to Satan.
Giving your soul away to Satan is not something to play around with or to say foolishly. But I am a foolish person and I did the most foolish thing. I know now that I was wrong and that God was there that night. After that night I expected everything to go wonderfully. I believed that Satan had taken my soul and now I was going to be beautiful, smart, successful, and independent. Boy was I wrong. From that day forth I was torn worse than before. Satan pursued me more than ever.
After I had gone to camp and confessed my sin to God, I was still broken. The difference was that instead of being broken into millions of pieces I was only broken into a couple of pieces. I was still broken though. I didn't know what was about to happen. Satan hit me like a storm. Actually, more like a tsunami. I was scared almost every single night. Satan scared me so horribly one night that I had to pull out and open all my holy books of God and display them everywhere. All my books about God and small bibles where standing up by the windows, or by the doors. I had my songbooks opened up by the vent or on my desks. I had four bibles opened on my bed: one at my feet, one on my legs, another on my chest, and the last by my head. I was so terribly frightened. I didn't know what to do. Little did I know that God was going to rescue me and show me his works; and he was going to do it soon.
In December our youth had been allowed to have a winter retreat. Well, I hadn't paid or signed up for it. I tried to blame my brother. I had told him to pay for me but he forgot. So, I wanted to blame him. I really didn't want to go and I didn't want to look bad either. I know that it was terrible to subject my brother to such foolishness of mine. I didn't care though. I just didn't want to look bad. And I definitely didn't feel like going at all. But God knew better.
The night before the retreat in December, my family went to see my cousin Jacob perform in his recital at college. I went and I saw Sarah, who at that time was our voluntary youth director in place of her father. She was there to see Jacob too (she and Jake are close cousins). She told me that I should go to the retreat and take her brother, Josh's, place. Josh had decided not to go so that he could finish his project. Well, that night, I decided to go to our Eskihmoob retreat.
The next day we left for the retreat. I went. At our retreat, we truly found God. I truly found God. We experienced God's romance. It was not just wonderful but AWESOME. Words can not explain what God did at our retreat. I was so sad, so happy, just so incredibly there. I don't know how to explain it. This was the best thing to ever happen to me, to us. We praised God like he was everything. We heard him. We had fellowship with each other and God, and Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.
On our way home, I was in the car with all my best friends and Sarah. I felt the need to tell them what was going on in my life. To tell them my horrible secret which I had kept from everyone. I had to tell someone. I had to tell them. So, I did. I told them. I was so scared. What are they going to say? Are they going to condemn me as God did? Still, somehow I was able to keep telling them what I had done, to the very end. They all wept with me and loved me. I was amazed. Sarah told me that I was forgiven. She said why would God send Jesus, if not to forgive us. God sent my friends to protect, love, and cherish me physically because he couldn't. To bring me, Nancy, a foolish and broken child, to God himself. Right then I knew that God was with me that horrible night. He was there. He took me under his arms and hugged me, protected me. I was just so broken and clouded to feel and see him. Everything, every single thing was just leading up to the very moment of my confession. I was lifted up to God himself.
I still wonder how God stayed with me the whole time. How he's still with me right now. I still ask why he loved and still loves me so much. I still struggle with my faith and I always will. Who doesn't? I'm still a horrible sinner and person. Who isn't? But I have to admit, my spirit is no longer anorexic. My spirit is stronger and better. I love that. I may lose my step or falter every now and again. But who doesn't? We're all of this sinful world. We're not perfect. Life isn't perfect. I'm still a fat, ugly, foolish, idiotic, and an all over dork. Let it be! This is all that matters, that I am free in Spirit. I am BEAUTIFUL to God! I was dead and now I am ALIVE! AMEN!
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A time of sharing, brought to you by Nancy Yang.
Nancy Yang - Aurora, IL.
In Courtesy of http://www.phoojywg.com