Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Angry (08/02/07)
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TITLE: TESTIMONY | Previous Challenge Entry
By Thomas Van Ness
08/09/07 -
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She was small in the front of the church, her voice was quiet, and halting as she spoke into the microphone and introduced herself. Hearing her voice through the speakers alarmed her, startled, she stopped speaking, but she was encouraged by others around her.
Joining her fingers together, intertwining her hands into a fist, which she placed before her midsection, almost as a protection against an attack she continued to speak, this time a little louder. “I was born poor”, she said “the oldest of three with one brother and one sister.” She stopped for a moment, to gather strength to continue. “My father kept us afraid. He drank a lot and he beat us a lot to.”
Looking down, avoiding the eyes of the congregation, she said, “When I was twelve, he began coming into my bedroom. It made me feel sick, but at least he was nice to me afterwards.” She took a deep breath and continued “Things went on like that until I was fifteen, when in a drunken rage he killed my mother. The sounds of her screams must have alerted the neighbors who called the police. When the police did arrive, they found my mother on the floor dead and me hiding in the closet.”
Unsure whether or not to continue, she looked in the direction of the woman who had brought her, who nodded her head, and whispered “its all right keep talking.” Looking back up at the faces before her, she continued, “They sent him to prison and we were all split up sent to different foster families.” Then with a voice that seemed to drift away into the air she said, “I’ve been trying to track them down but it’s not easy.”
Suddenly though she changed, becoming focused more dynamic, even forceful. “For the first time in my life” she said, “I had a chance to be myself, make friends and go to School.” Her small frame tensely clenched she ended her statement with the words “but I was just so angry. This anger became my companion, my guiding voice.” She continued speaking, looking directly at the faces before her, “My anger spoke to me, in its own way” she said. “It told me that I was useless and that life was useless, and I believed it. At eighteen, I found myself homeless and on the street I turned to prostitution to survive and drugs to forget.”
She unclenched her fingers and dropped them to her sides, unsure for a moment as to what to do with her hands; she instead grabbed a hold of the microphone and removed it from the stand. She held it first, with one hand than with two, one placed atop the other. With the beginnings of emotion showing through her voice, she continued, “My life changed one day when two people, approached me, offered me shelter and talked to me about Jesus. A small tear formed as a testimony in the corner of one eye. It grew in weight until it broke its tensile bond and flowed down her cheek, leaving a trail in its wake.
“At first,” she began “I did not like him, I did not trust him, and I wanted nothing to do with him. She let out a long sigh “I was so angry, for everything that had happened in my life. I blamed him, cursed him and pushed him away but” she paused, “He would not leave me.”
Smiling and tearful she said “All of my life I had wanted someone to love me and then faced with the love of Christ all I wanted was to be left alone.” She paused again for a moment and then continued “But he would not leave me alone. Even though I did not want him he wanted me.”
She finished by saying, “I’m not angry anymore, he took away my anger just like he took away my sin.” Then she sat back down and received a first of many hugs from those who sat adjacent to her.
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Well done.