Apostolic Friends Forum

Quote:

Originally Posted by Margie3

Nahkoe, would you mind sharing either here or in a different thread, how it was that you came from witchcraft to be saved? I'm interested

To begin with, I'll state that I was raised in church. Not Apostolic, but my beliefs weren't too far off by the time I'd studied things out for myself. I was involved in ministry, I had a burning desire to be involved in inner city home mission work. I'd been preaching for quite awhile, wrote skits (and preferred them), wrote Bible studies and taught them, had been involved in a wild and amazing revival. I was no stranger to church, God, salvation, or the religious ideas about paganism and witchcraft. I had been mentored by some of the most amazing men and women of God.

My path away from all of that would take far too much space here. lol

On June 2nd, 2007 a friend messaged me over Yahoo. I hadn't spoken with her for a very long time. I knew she'd been attending church again for awhile, but that's about all I knew. We got to talking and I told her I'd never find the sort of church I was looking for. I had been looking for somewhere to take my children, mostly to make friends, network, find some fellowship. Spiritually, I was quite content where I was.

"Where I was" was a solitary witch. Not a wiccan, a witch. I was quite deeply involved in shamanism, I'd drummed with a shaman frequently, I studied medicine wheels, I'd visited several and been involved in some rituals there, I dabbled in druidism, I'd studied the different paths of witchcraft in depth and had meshed together a practice that was powerful and satisfying. I was quite content where I was, practicing what I was practicing, and doing what I was doing. I read tarot, very, very well. Casting was as natural as breathing. I summoned spirits, who did as they were bid. You have to realize there *is* power in witchcraft, even if that power is only truly an illusion. There'd be no appeal if it was without power.

I told my friend I was looking for a church where the power of the Holy Ghost was. I wanted a church that was friendly, I was desperately lonely. I wanted a church where I could continue to practice what I was practicing. I wanted my beliefs to be accepted, because they were very important to me. She agreed I probably wouldn't find all that in one place. She told me that I had to find the most open minded church I could find. She sat down and found a link, because I sure wasn't going to, for a local church. The strange thing is, the pastor didn't start advertising it until a few weeks later. In between when she found it the first time, and then, we could not find it back no matter how hard we tried.

Anyhow, I'm not so sure that UPC and open minded really go together, take that as whatever you'd like to, I'm just stating the facts in my situation. But, I needed to be in that little church. I needed to walk in those doors, over and over for the next several months.

I waffled back and forth, this was a Sat night when we talked and service was at 2 pm on Sunday, the 3rd. I decided to really go at 1:30. I only had the baby with me, the other 3 were with their daddy and would be back on the 4th.

I opened the doors to the church and was met by the most intense and powerful presence of God. I seriously would have turned around and fled, but the pastor was in the back room and greeted me immediately. (it was a 2 room church..lol...I said little!) I sat down and...I don't know. I don't remember a word of the sermon. I'm not sure I even heard any of the words of the sermon. I don't remember what the altar call was, but I remember the most overwhelming desire to run to it. I refused. I did finally give up on standing and sit down with my head on the pew in front of me.

I was arguing with God. "You don't want me, I'm a witch, remember? You do not want me. Remember all these other things (there were oh so many, many more things...so many more) You do not want me. You can't love me, not me, I knew better and made these choices anyhow. You don't want me, you can't want me."

The pastor and a few others in the church laid hands on me and prayed. I got up with absolutely no intention of ever going back.

I was back on Thursday night. And Sunday. And Thursday and Sunday and.....

I had to figure out what this was, it wasn't something I expected. I spent most services in the little back room with one cranky child or another, my kids had never been in church before. I listened to the sermons through the doors. I argued with God, I fought with everything within me. I did start going to the altar, although I remained *very* guarded.

I started realizing that I wasn't free to make a choice about God or a relationship with Him. I went to my pastor and admitted to being a witch. While he wasn't judgmental in any way, and while his initial advice was dead on, he wasn't in any way equipped to deal with me and my situation.

I hadn't practiced since I walked into that church, but I hadn't gotten rid of anything either. He told me to throw it all out. I went home that night and looked around my apartment. I knew he was right, but I didn't even know where to begin. Or if I really wanted to. I slowly started putting things together in boxes. I realized how deep I was in trouble when I started that. Every time I put something in a box, I could feel what felt like physical pain inside. Ripping, tearing, pulling. I still didn't believe that the devil existed at that point. I started questioning if I might be wrong when this started happening. Hours later when I finished, I was physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. That was probably the easiest battle I fought.

I attended that church for 6 months. The time is really a blur of the most intense presence of God and the most incredibly disturbing battles in my mind. By the end of the time I was going there, I was desperately asking my pastor for help. I knew I was falling, and fast. I wasn't sure I was willing to walk away from God, even though I hadn't really walked towards Him completely either. But I knew I was being dragged away, pulled on. I could not make decisions regarding God. I don't know how else to explain that. I simply could not make any decision like "yes I'll follow God" or "yes I want a relationship with God". If it wasn't impossible, I sure didn't know it. I would make whatever decisions I could make.

When my pastor told me I would go to hell for letting my daughter wear pants (a decision made to placate her father, also a witch, so he wouldn't throw a fit about the church attendance), I knew I had to get out. Pants, dresses, make up, jewelry, hair, none of it mattered and I knew that. Not when I was facing what I was facing inside. I knew those things needed to be fixed before anything exterior would matter at all.

Around that time, I met someone (here actually) who gave me information and tools that I desperately needed. This friend started telling me things that I just could not grasp. Things about the love of God, His nature and character. I kept telling him there is just no way God could possibly desire a relationship with me. I finally opened up to him about some of the other things I was facing. There wasn't any judgment there. I started watching their church videos online, and eventually started studying Hebrew for myself. The things I saw when I translated would mess with my head. It was a slow, painful, process. I still couldn't make a decision to pursue God, but I was finally able to make a decision to pursue the knowledge of God, His character, who He is, what He wants. I started emailing the pastor of that church. His confidence in God blew me away. I'd softened quite a bit by the time I started emailing him, but I was still fighting, and hard. I'd get so frustrated sometimes. I realized pretty quickly that this pastor was very equipped to deal with me and my situations and circumstances.

I made the decision to move to Texas to be an in person part of this church (among other reasons, but yes this was a big part of that...remember the thread I was called out for that?) I've been here just over 3 months, and have also gone through a very difficult situation while here. I know that situation is related to my past, yet another battle. Sometime in those 3 months, I finally stopped fighting with God. I can't give you a date or a moment when I "came back", but I can tell you I have. It's been one step at a time, one battle at a time, one decision at a time. There are probably a lot here who would look at what I still deal with every day, who I still am, and say I'm not saved yet. That's ok. God's dealt with things so far, He'll finish what He started. I've only really gotten that very recently. He's not done yet, this was His plan not mine. I really wasn't looking for Him when I walked in those church doors. Even looking back at it, I keep thinking I must have been on some level, but I sure wasn't aware of it. He got my attention, and kept it, and provided exactly what I needed when I needed it.