A few weeks back, Philip was invited to speak at his home church to update them about his ministry here in Indianapolis and really to give his testimony. He stood up in front of the church and said, “Well I am here today to tell you I have a really boring testimony – and I blame you for that.” He spoke in jest, but it really struck me. Like me, Philip had also grown up his entire life in the church. He had uncles, great uncles and a grandfather who were all ministers in the church. He didn’t have a difficult life and never had a “hit rock bottom”, “180°” “come to Jesus” moment. But his testimony and my testimony are beautiful testaments to a living, breathing church—a church that has walked beside us our entire lives to encourage us and strengthen our faith, a church that has ensured that we have ‘boring testimonies.’
As I said the words, a sense of immense gratitude filled my heart as I realized what that had meant. I thought about how different my life could have been had my parents not made the decision to follow Christ. I thought about all the generational bondage that they had broken free from, the brokenness they walked away from—things I would never have to face. I thought about Janet, the Sunday school teacher that picked my mother up in her station wagon each Sunday as a little girl that planted a seed. I thought about my four other siblings who are now following passionately after Christ and impacting the lives of those around them. I thought about how the Creator of the universe orchestrated a purpose for my life and set plans into motion long before I was even born. I realized that I am a second generation Christian, with a boring testimony—and I couldn’t be more grateful.