There’s not much to say about my upbringing. I had a good life, born from Romanian parents who loved each other, always had food on the table, and did well enough in school. There wasn’t ever really any struggle in any sense, due to the hard work that my parents committed to in raising me and my siblings. Having 100+ cousins really made it hard to not have someone to talk to and really helped me to understand the cultural divide between me and my friends.

Growing up, we went to the family Romanian Pentecostal church that was five minutes from my house. There was not too much that I learned there except how to sleep on a bench and how to count the wood planks that stretched across the ceiling. With the services being in Romanian and me being bored, it was a routine I got to participate in for the first 13 years of my life. Now to say that I learned nothing from our church would not be fair to some that attended the church. My Sunday school teacher that I remember most, Diana, taught me to memorize the books of the Old Testament, all from memory, and even gave me my own solo in the song “Little David”.

Apart from Sunday school, from what I can recall and from the gossip that came from my family, I understood that they preached on “don’t do these things or you’ll go to hell”. While I understand the intention of what they aimed to do and how they were raised, it is no excuse of the damage that was done. It saddens me to see my family still hurt from what was done so many years ago.

Around the age of 13, I found that life seemed to be absolutely meaningless. I was definitely an emotional kid that was very naive, but I still had an understanding that some things were right, and some things were wrong. Regardless of how good I had it, I began to develop feelings of not being enough and having no purpose. There wasn’t really anything to live for.

I had examples of Christians in my life: my parents, the old Romanian people that would kiss you on the mouth when you went to church, my cousins, etc., but the one that I can recall teaching me about God was Flo. He told me at 13-years-old that sin was fun but was ultimately pointless and left you wanting. He also told me to always look to the Word of God and never listen to what people tell you if the Bible doesn’t back it up.

Now living my life, I didn’t really adhere to what he said out of the knowledge of Jesus Christ, but simply out of what I was told to do. As life continued, as it does at 13 years of age, I got to the point of not knowing if me being alive had a point. From my brother picking on me, in a way an older brother should, to secluding myself and not doing anything, I told one of my cousins that there’s no point in me being alive. Now I didn’t plan to take my life but really found no point in living.

It was at this time I talked with Flo, the week before Spring Break. We both were on the bed just looking at the ceiling and talking about random things. I asked him, “How do you know God is real? Like I get that there has to be a God, but how can you know it is Jesus?” He didn’t bring any theological word vomit or a complex definition of the Trinity, but rather, he told me that if I truly sought Christ that He would reveal Himself to me. Now I didn’t think too much of it, but as the week went on, I went back to my mindset of no purpose and no point of my life.

It was then that someone had mentioned, not sure which cousin it was, that there was going to be a Spring Break Revival at the American church in my small town. (I say American church because I really only did ever go to the Romanian one and there definitely was a distinction between the two.) Of course, me having nothing to do, decided to go along with Flo and my cousin Diane. Now the only person I had told of my personal feelings was Diane. She was a trooper and always encouraged me and told me to keep going.

As we got to the church, it was a fairly small enough gathering of 30-40 people. We sang some songs and then all stood for prayer. In the prayer, the pastor got on the mic and began to say “There’s someone here who thinks there’s no purpose in their life. Come to the front and don’t be ashamed.” Some of you may say, well that’s easy to say and is just a blanket statement that could apply to anyone or that my cousin told this random pastor of my situation. Regardless of why he said it, it applied to me. Did I go up to the front? Absolutely not. As he waited for someone to walk forward, Diane squeezed my hand and I white knuckled the chair in front of me as we were standing. I didn’t dare look up and would never dream of walking to the front. After awkward silence, the pastor said that we should all go outside to get some fresh air.

As we began to go outside, they brought out a speaker and played some Christian songs and we began to sing and pray. As I looked around at everyone seeming so happy, I can only remember one thing. The world seemed to stop, and I brought my feelings and life before God. I told Him that there was no purpose in life and that I was tired of living. In a moment, He gave me peace. There was no one else on the earth, but me, surrounded by the stillness of a great water. Everything was at peace and there seemed to be no sound. In that moment, I knew what the purpose of my life was. I knew that God was real and that He created me with purpose. I could not stop from smiling and crying tears of great joy. No longer did I have the impending doom of looking to nothingness but now had an understanding of the truth of Jesus Christ. We sang and fellowshipped together for the remainder of the night.

As I got home, it was late, probably midnight or 1am. My oldest brother was sleeping but I wanted to pray so I went into the living room. I began to pray and to thank Jesus for what He had done. I prayed to Him and told Him that I gave Him my life, that there was nothing else that mattered and that my purpose was to live for Him. This understanding only came from Him. As I continued to pray, I thought to tell my other brother, Sonny, that I gave my life to Jesus. At this time, it was 2am, and I only remembered the time because I looked if I should wake someone up. I told Him “Can you pray with me? I gave my life to Jesus.” Begrudgingly, it seemed, he came to pray with me for a few minutes then went to bed. Seeming that it wasn’t enough and in wanting to share this news with someone, I went to my older sister, Stephanie. She had no idea what was going on but as we sat on the couch, I told her that I had given my life to Jesus. We both began to sob and hug and pray together. By the time we both went to bed, it was 4am.

I wish I had the words to express the feeling I had, but it is the peace that passes all understanding. In a moment my life was changed, and I praise God for His faithfulness.

While it may not be the most impressive testimony, it is mine. God chose me before that foundation of the world. He sealed me with the Holy Spirit of promise forevermore. It is the testimony of the Good News of Christ, that though I was wicked and lost, He found me and shown a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.