Naomi, I think that is not only what was taught in Fanda but what was taught to every person in NTM unless you were a tribal person. In my interview with GRACE Diane asked "my poor child, weren't you ever taught about grace?" I said "Grace was for the unsaved people we were there to save. We were supposed to know better, so grace was not for us". I feel so very sad for you Naomi, that you are afraid of harming your children by telling them about God. In my life it was the complete opposite. My dad, David Amstutz, did such an amazing job at explaining to me just how great God truly is. Most people knew him as the pilot who would go out of his way to help someone, the vocalist who loved to sing at the top of his lungs in church, the Sunday school teacher who loved to teach little kids about God's saving grace, and the deacon who would serve anywhere needed. Malaria could not stop him, almost cutting his leg off could not stop him, near death from food poisoning could not stop him from loving God. To me he was just 'dad'. The man who would play video games with us, rent scary movies and let us watch them when mom was not home, tell us that he was going to quiz us on our daily devotions and if we couldn't answer the question we would get in trouble then at the end the question was "what is your name" because he did not believe in using the Bible as a punishment. He was the man that when I had done something very wrong at school in 2nd grade and had a parent drive to our house and yell at me he found me hiding under my covers crying and instead of yelling at me he picked me up and hugged me and that was it, that was all I needed right then. That was GRACE. He used to run to stay fit and would let me run with him, as we ran he would talk about God more, would tell me whu he loved him so much, would talk about how great Heaven was going to be. I learned, through my dads actions that God was a gentle loving God. That he was super pleased when we did good, but even when we messed up He would hug us and comfort us and put us back on our feet. I was 10 when he got called in on his day off to fly up and try to find a murder suspect in a red car. I was 10 when his plane went down and he went to Heaven to sing for God in person. I was 10 when my world came crashing down. My hero was gone and all I could think about when the assistant pastor was sitting there telling us about the crash is that he was at least in a great place. From that point on I shut the world out. We didn't get counseling, which we greatly needed, I don't know why we didn't, maybe it was too expensive, maybe they thought we didn't need it, maybe they thought "God will get us through this without help", whatever the reason I was left at 10 without the one person I trusted the most in this world to try to figure things out on my own. I decided that even though my dad was no longer there I was still going to try to do the best I could at everything so as to make him proud. But family life was severly messed up, the balance was gone, and I found myslef messing up, as far as my attitude went, a lot. Then I started being told that "I sure hope your dad isn't watching you now because he would be so ashamed" over and over I heard it until I did not have to hear it anymore because I started telling myself that everytime I messed up. I would get so down on myself because the dad that I had looked up to for so long no longer would love me and would be so ahamed of me. I spent my entire teenage years telling myself that. And then it got bigger till I was telling myself that anytime I did not get an A on a test or in a class, everytime I missed a soccer goal or let a goal get past me, anytime I hurt anyones feelings, I was devistated my senior year of high school because I was prom queen, was voted 'best smile' of the entire class, and yet I was not voted 'most friendly' and that stopped my world. I sat out in the woods at my house just crying because I thought that I had let my dad down because I apparently was not friendly enough. Of course we all were taught that our actions affected our parents minisrty, so naturaly I assumed that my messups affected my dads great name. I lived in fear of failure and held myself to such a high standard. I could never let my guard down for a second but even after taking such great steps to keep my testimony perfectly spotless some family members always found something to talk to my mom about. By the time I was in my 20s it reached the breaking point and I wanted to end my life. Sat there several times with a knife to my wrists, but could not go through with it. I was never angry at God, through all those years He is the only thing that I had to cling to. I always remembered the great God my dad had told me about. It was the pressure from this world to look and act like the "perfect Christian" that pulled me so far down in a pit that I could not get out. My husband and I went through marriage counseling for a year and after giving us a survey to do the first week he turned to my husband and told him that we had to concentrate on me. He knew right away from my answers that I did not know what true grace or love was. I looked to others to tell me if I was loved. I always looked for other people's approval of my choices in life to know if I was being good or bad. It took us a year of counseling and more than half of that time was just re-teaching me what it was to be human and just live. That is when I was reminded what true Grace was. That is also when I allowed myself to remember my dad the way he truly was. The man who came to me when I messed up and spoke no upset words at all because he could tell that I was sorry and hurting, the man who just picked me up and hugged me until I was ready to get back on my feet. All these years of convicing myself that I had to act perfectly or he would be ashamed at me were a complete lie. I was not living life, I was trapped inside myself with a giant wall around me so desperately trying to act how everyone was telling me I had to so that I would not hurt my dad (who was happy in Heaven) and so as not to detroy his testimony through my actions. I am still afraid of failure. I look at my family now and love everything about it, my husband and my boys, and yet I still have a nagging voice in my head telling me that I failed 7 years ago because I failed to kill myself. I did not go through with my plans so I failed. But when these feelings come I can now push them away, I can remind myself that I am allowed to fail, and I am allowed to fall because God will always be there to catch me and hold me until I am ready to stand up again. I talk to my kids all the time about God. It brings me great joy to tell them all the wonderful things. That He is a God that loves them so much and is there for them no matter what time of day or night it is. A God who cries when they cry and who, no matter what, will be there for them even if they stumble. Hopefully, if I die when they are young they will remember everything that I have taught them like I did with my dad. That even through the darkest of nights, no matter how long that night lasts, they can know that morning IS coming. Ok, I know that was a bit long, but I have written it so many times and deleted it and this time I am going to hit submit and this time I am going to leave this brick on the floor and take down my wall a little.
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