Personal Narrative Analysis

"Please fastened your seatbelt" I felt my heart raced against my chest as I looked at my uncle waiting for him to translate. Coming into a new country with no knowledge about the language allowed me to foreshadow the upcoming years of my life here in America. The spring breeze from April at midnight gave me the chill down my spine, it was extremely cold for us. As we were in line to get our paper done I held my mom hands, deep inside I shed a tear because I can't comprehend the conversations that was bickering back and forth.

This season of unfamiliar territory resulted in me losing my desire to pursue God. Before long I found myself slipping into an identity crisis; insecurity, depression, and suicidal thoughts consumed me until I was dead inside. At school, I was teased because of my taste in style. It was in this vulnerable state I believed everything people said to me and about me. In my mind, I was a failure to God, I was ugly inside and out, and there was no way I could ever be loved. Love itself was a foreign concept to me at the time. Although it surrounded me daily, I allowed my depression to build a fortified wall nothing could penetrate. In all honesty, I was okay with wallowing in self pity. Little did I know that two miles away from my home was a church where I would one day feel love

This quote speaks a lot to me, showing me that we take many things for granted and that we should always be thankful for who or what we have. My family and I have experienced many trying times together. Either we had an argument, heart-wrenching news, or death occur, we have always stuck through it together. But there was one event that tried our faith, courage, and taught us to appreciate the little things in life.

Anxiously, my family waited for the doctor in the hospital room as my grandfather started to stare at me. I did not want him to see my pity, so I looked toward the window. As I focused on the window I heard my family say, “Let’s pray.” As we prayed for my Grandfather’s health, I stood there with my eyes wide open. Looking around the room watching my family pray made me rethink why I tormented toward God.

“Hey, just remember that I’m new here, too,” He whispered in my ear. “You don’t have to feel alone.” After the pastor introduced his parents, they came to sit with us, as well. Music started to play. I sort of zoned out until a certain song started to play-- the one I heard in the car. As I started to really pay attention to the meaning, I started to cry. For the first time in my whole life, I got on my knees, and prayed. I felt like there was this unhuman like presence surrounding me. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I asked if I could somehow have that love that every one of these people seem to have. I asked that if there was truly a God to lift all my burdens off of my chest and to forgive me. I felt like someone was speaking to me because of the next song’s second verse and chorus.

Every Sunday, I attended a church called Greater Mt. Pleasant. My Christian journey symbolized a flawless perspective of the church: it was thrilling and motivating. On Sundays, I dressed up in “Sunday Best”: a solid white shirt, black tie, and black shoes. I walked to church with my Bible in my hand. After the choir sang our welcome song, Pastor Joel D. Taylor preached and motivated his congregation to trust in God. Trusting in God meant that I would believe in him through any circumstance I endure,

“I used to think that I could shape the circumstances around me, but now I know Jesus uses circumstances to shape me.” -Bob Goff Faith is an integral part of many lives. It is what makes many who they are. It shapes and molds people in life-changing ways and make them feel whole and complete. Knowing that feeling God’s call is one of the most life-changing experiences someone can ever have, I asked a family friend to share her story of coming to faith. This is her story as I interpret it.

I had lost my youngest daughter in a custody battle with her father when she was five years old and found myself hating him, the judge, guardian ad litem, and those who was involved in the case for many years. One Friday after work, I went to pick my daughter up for my visitation weekend from his mother’s home, but while there I saw her father in the sitting room sick laying on the couch, looking sick, so I just picked my daughter up and went to the car. But when I sat down in the car, I started talking to myself about how sick he looked, then the Lord tell me to proceed back into the house and provoke him to receive salvation. But after a few minutes of sitting in the car arguing with God about why

As I continued to chat with my pastor that day, I really sensed the hurt in his eyes – the anger that comes from an unsolvable injustice, the tiredness of a problem. “What’s wrong?” I finally asked, “Having a bad day?”  Sensing that I was truly concerned, he let the truth be told.  “I talked with a woman today whose baby died suddenly of unknown causes. As we worked through her grief, she talked about how numerous friends and family, even a religious leader had patted her on the back, shook their heads and said, ‘It was God’s will.’ I find few things worse to say to a grieving parent.  Saying nothing at all would be of more help.”  It was obvious from our conversation that he had

In 2001, I began to encounter a rather turbulent and difficult period after my father passed away because of congestive heart failure. I attempted to reduce the negative effects of the agonizing loss and began to work excessively as an escape from the painful reality. Most recently, I reevaluated this heartrending event in my life and identified the one of the poorest choices I made was the decision not approach God with this serious predicament. Unknowingly, I continued to pursue the comfort and peace that Jesus Christ alone provides to a person with grief-stricken heart.

Today is my first day of two weeks on a luxurious cruise around the Pacific islands for some much-needed relaxation. My parents decided it would be a great experience for the family to get together for both their fortieth anniversary and my twenty-eighth birthday. They planned every minute of every day with activities and sightseeing, it might be worth it since all food and drinks are free, but can I really survive two weeks with my family? I love them all so much, however, I would prefer to be alone and unwind without any hectic family events and possible drama. I need this vacation after the last couple weeks I’ve had. Apparently I’m going to die and my brain is filled with the endless possibilities of death. So a cruise should help me

When I was younger I would make conversation with any breathing personage. As I grew older just the thought of having to interact with someone I did not know was mortifying. Therefore, signing up for a full week of a Young Life camp was one of the hardest decisions I have made. Trying to back out the night before, I wandered on to the bus at six in the morning. A forty-five minute drive and forced to scarf up my cell phone. Arriving at the camp we were greeted by a thousand smiling faces. Settling into our cabin, I was a little more relaxed until I heard the bell. Curiously, we walked out onto the porch to see everyone running. Our cabin quickly followed into the chaos. I Pushed and scraped my way through everyone, and made my way to the front row of the club room. I thought to myself how idiotic it was, I was already a Christian. What else is there to learn about God? Little did I know. That night was the first time I had been introduced to God on a deeper level. I saw him as intimidating and loving instead of a fictional character in my head. I felt comfort and at peace for once. July twenty-fourth, two thousand and sixteen is the day that changed my life forever. I heard the greatest love story of all time. Most people know what it feels like to be loved by a family member, friend, or a spouse. However, nobody can grip the thought of someone loving them as much as Jesus. He could have stopped the Roman soldiers at any given point. However, without His mercy and grace we

Ultimately, He restored my life back to some greener pastures. I have been remarried for five years to a God-fearing man and this time “until death do us part.” I am not church bashing throughout my writings, but I just have first-hand knowledge and understanding of how support service in a local church can make an abundant impact on a fading marriage. I asked God to grant me the wisdom to understand the tricks of the devil my second time around. I wrote this paper with the understanding and knowledge of what the cries sounds like, because twenty-six years ago, I was the one searching for support services for my dying marriage. There were no support systems in place in my local church and my family suffered extremely. I am invested in this process of resuscitating marriages and building support outlets to help repair failing marriages.

Walking in the same spots throughout the church that I had years before brought back memories of the little girl I once was, this strong willed girl who was so in love with Jesus and His mercy that she thought nothing would ever change the way she felt. Back then it was so easy to think that things were perfect and that they’d all work out perfectly, and that I would feel God’s presence wherever life took me. Back then it was so easy to imagine life without pain and suffering. I was so happy when ever I even began to think of God’s glory that if something bad had happened I thought of it as His way of testing my faith. I saw it only as a small obstacle in finding my way in the world.

I turn the key and unlock the deadbolt. It’s been a long day’s work. I have been working three jobs for weeks now. I come through the door of my tiny one-bedroom house and stare at the desk, piled high with debris: old junk mail, magazines, and a few bills. I keep thinking maybe on my day off I’ll clean this mess up, balance my check book and pay my bills. “But what’s the use?” I think to myself, “I have $210 left on my credit card, that’ll get me through another week.”