Jemima Woolverton's Baptismal Testimony
Evening service, Sunday 9th March 2008
It's very difficult to explain how I became a Christian, or to define an exact moment. I suppose the start of my religious education was when I was christened at three months. I went to a Catholic primary school in my local town, where I wasn't very happy and got bullied, partly I think because I come from a Church of England family, which made me distinctive. Religion at this school was very much at the forefront of life, with the class facing the crucifix three times a day to recite prayers written in really bad poetry! We also had Mass every Thursday morning, which I found incredibly boring, though I did enjoy trying to pull other people's arms off when giving the sign of the peace.
When I was seven, the rest of the year dressed up in pretty white dresses and had their First Holy Communion. I debated then whether I wanted to become a Catholic, if only so I would fit in - and wear a pretty dress - but I decided it was too big a decision for a girl of seven, so I decided not to. All this time my parents occasionally took me church where I did readings, which I really enjoyed!
Every summer when I was at primary school I went to Vacation Bible School which was a holiday club run for a week every August. I loved the atmosphere of the place, especially the singing in the big marquee, and the general love and interest shown me by the leaders who worked there. I suppose it was this Christian witness which made me see there was more to religion than Mass and the sign of the cross - these people really cared about their God. Every year there would be a closing meeting where the leaders would bid for anyone who wanted to 'give their life to Jesus' to come forward. When I was about nine, I did. I can't really remember why, my legs just seemed to move of their own accord: I do remember telling my parents afterwards that I had felt sorry for the leaders that no-one was coming up! The little band who did come forward that day were led off to a dark tent somewhere, and they prayed with us and gave us a little booklet on how to follow Jesus. I felt special, and like I'd made a commitment, but wasn't really sure what. Surely I followed Jesus anyway, so how was my life going to be any different?
A new youth worker joined the local church soon after I went to senior school, and advertised to say she was going to start a Bible study group for teenagers. I loved the group, which was held in the leader's living room every Friday evening. Something about the warmth of the atmosphere there, the hot chocolate, the possibility of talking to people who cared about me and my problems, and who were telling me about this amazing man Jesus who loved me really struck me. This all gave me a taste for what Christian fellowship could be, and I wanted more. At about this time I started getting the bus to school, which turned out to be a real blessing in disguise. Sitting on the empty top deck of a freezing cold double-decker at 7.15am, I read the gospels, thought about who this Jesus guy was, and debated whether a staunch atheist or Christian was a more 'interesting' person to be!
My transition to becoming a Christian wasn't particularly dramatic or sudden, possibly because I'd never doubted that God existed. I really struggled trying to understand what following Jesus meant: what exactly did being 'born again' and 'turning your life around' mean? For a long time I worried that I wasn't really a Christian, and feared that there was something inherently more spiritual that other Christians had and I lacked.
I came up to Cambridge in 2006, determined to get properly stuck into the Christian life. I think I'd have found it quite difficult to slip away: within a few hours of my arrival at college, Jenny, who was then the Christian Union rep for Girton, knocked on my door and invited me to church the following day! I started going to Eden and to college Christian Union meetings and was amazed: here was the Christian fellowship and a passion for Christ that I had only dreamed of!
Since then I have grown so much in my faith. The Christian life isn't without its struggles, but it is the only one we can live, if we love God and we want to obey his commands. I am not perfect by any standards, as many of my long-suffering and ever-patient friends and family will tell you, and I still struggle immensely with trying to have the right attitudes towards people, and in conveying God's love to them. But I know that God is with me at all times: that he cares about me so much that he sent his son to die for me. And that he'll keep on loving me no matter how much I fail in thought, word and deed. Thank God for his love, and that he's changing me to become more like him.