An Undying Testimony

Easter for us kids in the house and the neighborhood meant dressing up in our finest, collecting candy, and eating boiled eggs. That was all there was to it for most of us, and that was enough, so I thought. Then there was one Easter Sunday that was different for me. Something happened that made me hunger for more than just pretty dresses and candy. This particular Easter changed my view of life forever.  

I can’t remember how old I must have been—maybe ten or eleven years old, maybe younger. I can’t remember exactly; however, I can remember being excited to put on my white tights, brand-new Easter dress, and new shoes. Getting new clothes was always exciting. I remember my pretty yellow dress with black flowers printed all over it, and the shoes were black and shiny with a little heel on them. I felt mature and sophisticated in my outfit. That’s all I can remember about that day until later that evening, when it was time for the kids to go to bed. 

Grandma had four bedrooms upstairs. The girl cousins always slept upstairs. This Easter night I was going to sleep in my grandma’s room, which was the room right outside the living room, where everyone watched TV. I remember Auntie Lisa sitting on the floor in front of the floor-model television watching a movie. I was heading to the room, but then what was being shown on TV caught my attention. My auntie was narrating the movie. (I hate when people talk through the movie, but I was so glad that she was doing it at the time.)  

The Greatest Story Ever Told was showing. Now, I knew nothing about this at the time, and that’s why it caught my attention because I was shocked by what was happening and how it made me feel when I saw it. There was a man, half-naked, bloody, carrying a cross on His back while people were screaming at Him, spitting on Him, and being mean to Him. It broke my heart and I asked, “Why are they doing that to Him?” I remember my aunt trying to tell me what was happening. She told me that it was Jesus. Well, I knew of the name because people would say it all the time, mostly misusing it, but I didn’t know anything more than that He was a man spoken  of in the Bible. My mom was yelling at me from another room, telling me to go to bed. I had to watch a little more. I was in awe and wanted to see what happened. After I watched them nail His hands to the cross, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming love for this Jesus. Why would they do that? I was more amazed at how He didn’t fight back and didn’t do anything to encourage the crowd to do what they were doing to Him. I needed to know more. I wanted to know more about Jesus. I knew that He was someone special, and I just had to learn about Him.  

After that day, I begin to read the Holy Bible, even the one Grandma kept open for people to read. I wanted to know more about Jesus Christ. I read it constantly, starting in the New Testament, and I remember feeling good every time I would read it. My love for the Savior only grew stronger as I learned about Him and the many miracles He performed. One of my favorite Scripture stories that I loved reading about was the woman with the issue of blood. At the time I had no idea how much I had in common with this woman, and maybe that’s why I loved her story so much, but it helped my testimony and faith.  

I read about how, for many years, she’d tried to find ways to be healed from this disease that she had, but no one could help her. She’d tried everything, but still nothing or no one could help her. Then when she learned about Jesus Christ and how He was performing miracles, she thought to herself that if only she could touch the hem of His garment, she knew she’d be made whole. She didn’t think it; she knew it. The Scriptures don’t mention her having any other encounter with Jesus before this, only that she’d heard about Him performing miracles. Now, either her faith was exceedingly strong, or she just felt like she’d take a chance to see what happened. I think it was the first. She knew Jesus was special, heavenly, and powerful, and knew that she didn’t have to talk with Him. She didn’t even have to touch His flesh—just the hem of His garment—and she knew she’d be healed. What great faith! What great faith! So that is what she did, and in the midst of the crowd, the Lord felt the power escape Him.  

Wow … something happened! Something happened that was between Him and the woman. Something personal, something sacred and powerful, and no one knew of it but the Lord and the woman. A relationship changed right then and there. As the Lord asked who it was who touched Him, I’m quite sure He knew who it was, but it was an experience for her and those around them. As she admitted to it being her, the Lord told her that she was healed. That relationship changed forever.  

That was me. That is me! That woman is me! When I read that as a young girl it was the faith of the woman that amazed me. As I read it as a woman with Lupus, a blood disorder, it is the love of the Savior that amazes me.