The Hannah Montana Testimony

I used to separate my testimony into two different parts: The Fluffy Part and the Dirty Part.

The Fluffy Part included how I came to know Christ, when I accepted Him, seasons of spiritual growth, my baptism…essentially all the good parts of my testimony that I was proud to share.

And then there was the Dirty Part. Nobody was to know about the Dirty Part of my testimony. They had to prove themselves worthy of hearing these gory details before I spilled the beans. If this part of my story was leaked to the world, it would surely be the end of me.

The first time I attempted to confess my struggles with pornography was via letter. I remember the air being crisp. My nose was red and running after sitting on the dock for hours. I was too afraid that my mom would walk in on me writing this confession in my room, so I brought a book down to the pier and told her I was just going to read for a while. That wasn’t uncommon. She would buy it.

I sat on the bench at the end of the dock and pulled out the loose-leaf paper and pen I had stuffed into the book. I began writing. Page after page after page after…you get it. I was three years or so into my addiction at this point, so I had a lot to share.

I was writing to my best friend, Katie. We met in the cafeteria in ninth grade, and then awkwardly sat two seats apart from each other during drama class. She quickly became my best friend. We had the same sense of humor, were equally awkward in social situations, and loved the Lord with all our hearts (I used past tense here, but all of these remain very much true).

I was at the point in my addiction where God was trying to convince me to invite someone else into it with me. I was beginning to think I couldn’t do this alone. Still, the overwhelming fear and shame I felt was holding me back.

I decided I would write a letter. There was no way I could face anyone in person with what I thought was the most disgusting, shameful fact that anyone could ever learn about me. Writing a letter would be easier. So there I sat on that cool autumn day, writing down my deepest, darkest sin.

I’m pretty sure I ended the letter with, “I completely understand if you no longer want to be my friend anymore.” How heartbreaking! If I could visit myself on the dock that day some seven or eight years ago, part of me would want to lovingly remind myself of God’s grace and share all the ways He provided for me during this sin struggle; but another part of me would want to push myself in the river and shout, “Stop being so afraid!” (“Do not be afraid” is the most common command in the Bible, but I’m pretty sure Jesus never pushed anyone into a river out of frustration…)

Yet another part of me might sprint to the end of the dock, snatch that letter from my hands, and give it to Katie to spare myself years of isolation; but I remind myself that God’s timing is perfect, so I give myself grace for what happened next.

I ripped it up. All of it. Into tiny, unidentifiable pieces. And then I threw it in the river. I decided I didn’t need her to know; I didn’t need anyone to know. I swore that I would keep this a secret between God and me. Besides, God is all we need, right? He’s more than enough, right? So why even bother telling anyone else?

I took it one step further. I swore to God that not even my future husband would know about this. He could know all of my other faults and weaknesses, but this was out of the question.

I had convinced myself that this sin was so gross, so vile, so unforgivable, that no one could ever know. I would take this to my grave.

Hence the separation of my testimony.

Over time, God faithfully got me to a place where I felt comfortable enough to confess. I finally confessed to Katie (I’ll save that for another blog post). Over time, I confessed to several different Bible study leaders who all met me with such grace and understanding. I confessed to the small group that I led with a friend. If you haven’t already figured it out for yourself, confession gets a lot easier the more you do it.

It wasn’t until one particular moment of confession that I finally joined the two sides of my testimony. It was on a missions trip to Honduras. We had split into two small groups, and we took turns each week sharing our testimonies. I didn’t know these people very well yet. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share the Dirty Part. So I talked a bit to our leader beforehand, expressing my concern. She said these words for which I am eternally grateful:

“I hope that one day you’ll be proud to share your whole testimony with others, knowing that God’s hand is seen in every part of your story.”

No more living in two different worlds. No more separating my testimony. No more finding so much joy in one part of my story, but crippling shame in the other part. I rest in the fact that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and that while we were sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

My prayer for you today is just that. I pray that you will one day be proud to share your whole story with others, knowing that God’s hand is seen in every part of your story.

Worship song suggestion: “Known” by Tauren Wells.