I have to say I love hearing other people's testimonies. There's something tender and hopeful about hearing how the Lord moves in the lives of others—it often inspires hope in my own life. I especially love when people can pinpoint the moment when the Lord intercepted their story, revealing His character and desire for a relationship with His children.

One thing I find really special about testimonies is that they're not about us, but about the Lord. Yes, it's a story that unfurls through our lives, but it's truly about what the Lord has done. When I was a kid at church camp, our weekend focus was on learning to share our testimony—identifying events that revealed God's hand and learning how to articulate that to others. As I sifted through events in my life, certain moments came to mind, but I didn't truly grasp the concept yet. A testimony isn't a time to trauma dump, but a time to express how the Lord is triumphant over the circumstances of this world.

So I'm going to tell you one of my favorite stories about my life—a time when the Lord was really pursuing me in my adult life and when I first began to open my eyes and heart to respond.

This story took place in late summer 2023, going into my junior year of college. That summer I worked at a church watching kids during services, and one of them got me incredibly sick. Now I'm not a sickly person and usually bounce back from illnesses quite easily. However, I felt like I couldn't recover from whatever mystery ailment this kid so generously shared with me. I always think of Ross Geller's term "germ casserole"—which I feel could also apply to young kids! This sweet little petri dish gave me what I think was mono.

I'd been sick for about a month. I had gone to Miami and the Keys with my family, and I remember standing outside Ernest Hemingway's house thinking I was going to keel over, succumbing to whatever this kid had unleashed on me. All I could think about were those polydactyl cats potentially eating my remains. But I was able to rally and enjoy our vacation before returning home and heading back to college.

The real meat of this story begins when I got home. I had landed pit tickets to a Lana Del Rey concert with a few friends. She was coming to our state to perform, which was a huge deal. So I began the three-hour drive to the venue, dreading this concert. I was truly fearful that something would happen to me because of my condition.

Now I wasn't truly submitted to the Lord at this time. My previous years at college had really caused me to stray from Him, and instead I walked with a lot of hurt in my life. (Writing this now—praise the Lord for healing those wounds and delivering me from past events!) But I grew up in a devout Christian home, and for some reason this verse came to mind:

Genesis 2:24: "Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh."

I know now that this was the Lord putting this verse on my spirit, but at the time it felt so strange and foreign. I was twenty, unmarried, and perplexed about what this had to do with me. It seems that way with the Lord a lot—but how wrong I was.

So I started praying: "God? I am not married. (As if He doesn't know that already!) I don't have anyone to cleave to. I cleave to You. Please give me a sign that everything is going to be okay. I cleave to You, I cleave to You, I cleave to You." I was so fearful, yet some of that fear began to subside. I will never forget praying this, as it was one of the first times my heart had really begun to soften again, crying out to the Lord in desperation, begging for reassurance. Won't He humble us?

I arrived at the concert with my friends and we waited in line outside. The concert was outdoors during late August in Arkansas. For those unfamiliar with this kind of heat—imagine getting in your car and being branded by the metal of your seatbelt. I'm talking HOT.

We got into the pit and positioned ourselves about three people from the front barricade. As the concert progressed, the opener came out and performed, and the venue got increasingly hotter.

As I stood there with the sweltering August sun beating down on me, I began to feel cold. Pleasantly surprised, I thought to myself, "Wow, this breeze feels terrific." Then the venue began to quiet, my surroundings darkening. I realized I was going to pass out. Having never fainted before, I had no idea what was happening. I promptly began to slide down in the sea of bodies, but was kindly guided to the ground by the people around me.

Immediately, a burly security guard jumped over the barricade and whisked me out of the pit, grabbing me like a rag doll. My friends were freaking out as I came to, and I told them to stay where they were as I went to the medical tent.

Eager medics awaited me in the tent, helping with water and liquid IV. One man came forward and began trying to assess what had happened—I think he was mostly trying to figure out if I was drunk (nope, dry as a bone). The fear I had felt seemed completely justified in this moment; it was like an "I told you so" to God.

However, as this man continued asking me questions, I interrupted to ask his name.

"Cleave," he responded.

Not once that night did I make the connection. Exactly what I had prayed for had come to aid me in a tumultuous time.

After being cleared, I went back out to the concert and stood around the back of the pit, observing more than participating. Later I told my friends what had happened, and we even laughed about the medic's unusual name. "Who would name someone that?"

The next day, driving home, I called my mom to tell her what had happened. She was the one who pointed out the connection between what I had prayed and the medic's name. I immediately broke down in tears. We got off the phone and I was overcome with weeping.

The Lord had been my medic so many times, even when I couldn't see it. He met me right there—in the pit of a Lana Del Rey concert—and showed me how deeply He was pursuing me. It completely shocked me. How could the Lord love me so much that He placed that man there to help me? Out of all the people who could have assisted me, God truly orchestrated that moment. He did more than give me a sign that day—He began to change my heart.

I'm reminded of Psalm 34:18: "The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." He was near me all that time, but my heart was too hard to feel it. But once I became dependent on Him, a transformation within me began.

The thing is, the Lord doesn't want to leave us as He finds us. He desires to comfort us and heal us. There are more than physical healings He wants to perform—He wants to heal our spirits too. There's a Greek word, sozo, which means to be saved, healed, and delivered spiritually. Often in the New Testament we see Jesus healing people physically, but it doesn't stop there. God desires to see us beyond restored—instead, transformed into something new.

I mean how obvious is it that I was literally and figuratively rescued from the PIT! What a revelation. Thank you Lord for seeking me no matter how you find me and for loving me despite how I come to you. You are so good to me Lord. I feel like Psalm 40:2-3 really illustrates this, "He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what He has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord". As I am writing this I realize that the number for my coffee order was number 40- how funny!

I am sitting in a coffee shop crying as I am writing this, reflecting on how good the Lord has been to me. If you have read this far I truly urge you to seek the Lord. Nothing on this earth can compare to him. He is so beautiful, sovereign, tender, merciful, and so much more. He is the great I Am. Without Him I have nothing, but with Him I have everything. I am so thankful to be made new in His image, and covered under his blood. Here I am two years later with a new song to sing to our God. No matter who you are or where you are, Jesus wants to encounter you.