I’ve been sharing my testimony since I was thirteen and I first stood in a church pulpit. On that blisteringly hot day in July 2003, I spoke about the God I serve and the calling I felt. Since then, I’ve been sharing my story in blog posts, seminars, sermons and talks. It’s something I feel relatively confident in doing, I am well rehearsed in what I feel comfortable sharing and making sure that I can point away from myself to the God of my story in the course of sharing.
But as I was reading Stephanie Tait’s “The View From Rock Bottom”, one phrase leapt from the page.
“present tense testimony”
More often than not, the testimonies we share are in the past tense. They speak of things overcome, of the miraculous and the way live has changed for the better.
I can speak of a significant recovery, that I live a life I love, that I have not harmed myself in over a decade.
But that would not tell the whole story.
My present tense testimony is more complicated, more unfinished and less tidy.
My present tense testimony demonstrates no less of the glory of God and His grace.
My present tense testimony is that I still struggle; that I live with mental illness but that through grace, community and rest I live a life I love.
Patrick Regan brilliantly describes it as “healing in the slow lane” in his book, Honesty Over Silence.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that we all bear our pain for the world to see every day, we don’t need to bear our open wounds – but we need to be honest that we are wounded.
It doesn’t look as shiny, but it is miraculous nonetheless, because there were days when I couldn’t lift my eyes to even consider a future and now I am living each day. Stumbling, yes; with help, most definitely – but more importantly with the knowledge of grace and God’s care in the day-to-day boring stuff.
It is, I think, the difference that the late Rachel Held Evans and my friend Tanya Marlow speak of so eloquently. Rachel wrote:
“But there is a difference between curing and healing, and I believe the church is called to the slow and difficult work of healing. We are called to enter into one another’s pain, anoint it as holy, and stick around no matter the outcome.”
This is what a present tense testimony offers; that even when the pains of life persist so do we and so, more beautifully, does God.
God’s work is both the lighting flash and the slow burning flame.
What glory in the mundane might our present tense testimonies reveal?