Christ Has Become My Salvation

"Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also has become my salvation." 

(Isaiah 12:2) 

 I was once given an invitation to identify an experience that I have had where I turned and applied the Atonement of Jesus Christ in my life.  There are obvious times: when I confessed and repented.  But are there other times?

Jesus Christ does more than forgive us of our sins.  He can heal us.  

Growing up, I believed in miracles, I believed in dreams coming true, and I believed in Jesus Christ.  When I was thirteen, my best friend's little brother, Travis, got really sick.  I watched for the miracle as the people around me prayed for him.  We fasted, and we believed.  I saw a lot of his dreams coming true.  People were giving this nine-year-old boy with a brain tumor tickets to the World Series and his family went on a Make a Wish Disney Cruise.  How cool!  But still I was waiting for the miracle.

The night soon came that my dad got a phone call and left super fast.  I didn't think anything of it.  He was gone for hours.  Finally he called my mom, and she sat me down by my older sister.  She told us that we had to be strong.  "Set a good example for your little sister (who was around the same age as Travis) and help her see that everything is going to be okay."

I couldn't believe that Travis wasn't healed.  How could he die when everyone had prayed?  But despite my personal confusion and sadness, I put on a strong face for when my mother brought in my little sister and told us the news that Travis had passed.

I continued to hide behind that "strength."  I didn't let people know that my faith was shaken.  I thought over and over "How could God let this little boy die?"  My sadness could have been healed, had I turned to my Savior, but instead I turned away.  And my sadness turned to anger against God, and then to anger against myself.  

It was stupid that I was letting something upset my happy life.  I was being foolish for believing in prayer, and angels.  Happiness, as defined by me in the trial of my faith, was the lack of pain or fear.  I began to block out these negative emotions.  I no longer felt sad, I wasn't angry or hurt or afraid.  But I wasn't happy either.  I had trained myself to "not feel" by telling myself that I didn't care.  I lost all interest in the things that I once found joy from.  

A year after Travis had died, I went with my family to visit his grave.  I looked around at myself and realized that I had somehow become far away from my family.  I didn't have any friends, and I didn't have any purpose.  No goals or wishes.  No dreams.  I was lost.

Upon realizing that I had reacted to death in the wrong way, I decided how I could fix it.  I didn't turn to my Savior, because that required me to admit how wrong I had been.  I kept my anger against God buried deep, and I began to try to feel again.  But as I strived to feel pain, I told myself that hurting couldn't upset me.  I was trying to prove to myself that I was strong enough to withstand it.

Well it didn't do much to help me.  But it did get the attention of my family.  My dad asked me if this was my way of calling for help.  I told him it wasn't.  I didn't need help.  But he asked me if he could give me some anyways.  I didn't say anything.  This conversation was getting close to making me feel something and I didn't want to feel it.  My father told me that I should talk to my sister.  He reminded me how close we had once been.  I considered it and agreed that talking to her was a good idea.  Then he told me that I should talk to my friends again.  I thought about it, and said I'd try.  And I went on my way.

I went and began to regain the relationships that I had forgotten about.  I began to realize how I had to care about others in order to find the joy that came with being with them.  I stopped wanting to be alone.  But I still couldn't talk to the boy that had once been my best friend.  I tried decorating his room for his birthday, but still when the time came for him to thank me, I could only think of his little brother Travis, and I would run away from the pain.

I reported my efforts to my father.  He asked me what I thought I needed to do to be happy.  I was mad when he asked me that, but I answered anyways.  "Pray I guess."  I knew all along that Jesus Christ was the way back.  The only way.  

Turning to Christ helped me break from bad habits, and helped me to create new better habits.  Through reading of Him in the scriptures I found peace.  It was really tough, and it still is.  But through learning of Him, I have begun a journey to live with Him and with God again.

Though I didn't know him well, Travis has helped me so much.  My reaction to his death proved to me my weakness.  I can't do this alone.  I know that I am weak.  I know that I am nothing and I have nothing, save what God has given me.  I know that God can hear our prayers.  He is all knowing, and I am not.  I know only the things that He has revealed to me.

I know that Travis is happy.  He is in a place of peace. And his spirit is doing great work for our God.  One of the things he was asked to do, was to help me come to Christ.  I know that Travis has been there helping me, waiting for me to see.  Travis has shown me that strength isn't measured by the lack of tears, but by how much we learn to rely on our Savior.

I will trust, and not be afraid: for the Lord is my strength.

I still believe in miracles.  I believe that dreams can come true.  I believe that love can overcome fear and pain.  I know that Christ lives.  I am striving everyday to draw closer to Him.

He has become my salvation.