“…out of the mouths of babes…”

Building a fire on the hearth always involves scrounging around for some scrap paper (at least, when I’m the pyroengineer it does).  Recently I was snatching papers from various locations around the house, with which to build one of my barn-burning blazes, when I almost disposed of one of my eldest daughter's Language C papers.  It had been graded (93%), so I thought I had better read it before I turned it into kindling.  Here is what I read:

“My First Play”

My first play was a Christmas play.  The week before the play I got sick.  My director gave me a script to memorize.  I knew everything except for the prayer.  My Dad came back from Maryland just to see me perform.  I was the main character in the play, so if I messed up I would be noticed.  Opening night came and I was nervous, but didn’t feel sick.  I did perfectly until the prayer.  I forgot it so we had to improvise.  I pretended not to know how to pray so I asked the person who was listening to me.  But the play turned out great. (Kayla 11-24-08)

Needless to say, I didn’t end up burning the paper.  I folded it up instead and put it on the head of my bed with other important things that I generally keep there. 

I was touched.  Why?  Was it the quality of the paragraph?  No.  It was indeed good for a 6^th grader (in my unbiased fatherly estimation), but there was a different thing that brought tears to my eyes.  Can you guess what it was?  Read the paragraph again and see if you can pick it out.   

My first play was a Christmas play.  The week before the play I got sick.  My director gave me a script to memorize.  I knew everything except for the prayer.  My Dad came back from Maryland just to see me perform.  I was the main character in the play, so if I messed up I would be noticed.  Opening night came and I was nervous, but didn’t feel sick.  I did perfectly until the prayer.  I forgot it so we had to improvise.  I pretended not to know how to pray so I asked the person who was listening to me.  But the play turned out great.

The sentence that caused me to keep the page wasn’t even necessarily salient to the storyline, except to me.  She had written, “My Dad came back from Maryland just to see me perform.”  She was right of course.  I remember going back specifically in time to see the Christmas play in which my baby was the star.  J  I remember her doing really well and making me cry.  Yep, I was squalling and blubbering with emotion that night when it was over… being so happy for her and touched by the significance of the message which she had helped to communicate.  However, it wasn’t the memory of that occasion that touched me, it was the fact that she had noticed, cared and remembered that I had been there “for her” at a moment that was important to her.  She had written this paragraph for someone else without my knowledge and had voluntarily included me in it.  She signified her appreciation of me even without me being around to know or notice.

We parents do many things out of love and duty without even giving one thought to whether or not it will be noticed or appreciated.  Now that I’m thinking about it I see a multitude of examples.  My wife, for example, works full time just to put our kids in a Christian school.  I’ve never heard her say one word about it to the children.  I wouldn’t expect her to.  She feels that motherly responsibility that makes such a thing a labor of love.  She pours herself into the task as if the remuneration is large… though it is actually entirely intangible.  The education of her kids is the focus of her thoughts to the exclusion of any consideration of whether or not they understand or appreciate what she is doing.

On a much smaller scale, I pack everyone a lunch everyday and send them off to school.  I don’t do it to be thanked or admired.  I do it naturally.  I do it because I love my family and they need me.  However, when one morning Seth came in and volunteered without prompting to pack the lunches for everyone so that I could do something else, I felt that same twinge of pleasure as when I read Kayla’s paragraph.

Maybe I’m misinterpreting why these “small” things meant so much, but here is my take on it anyway. 

I do love.  I love intensely and deeply.  Truly, my very perception of self-worth and happiness hinges on my relationships with my Jesus, my wife and my kids.  Today I’m specifically talking about # 3, my children.  When I realize that they know (and acknowledge) that I love them, my heart swells with feelings of relief, gratitude and satisfaction.  “My daughter thinks of me even when I’m not around.”  “My son is concerned that I have too much to do this morning.” 

Even though I shooed Seth out of the kitchen and made the lunches myself, I was impressed on the inside.  I was happy.

I’m going somewhere with all of this mush. 

I have to wonder how comparable our relationship with our heavenly Father is with this example.  When we awake on a morning and think of Him before anything else; when we look at the stars and wonder at the power of a God who could speak such magnificence into existence; when we resist a temptation that might go unnoticed by everyone else just because we care that He would know; when we shed a tear while watching a sunrise because God has given us another Day to serve Him; when we tell another member of this cursed human race what Jesus did for us and what He can do for them… mustn’t the pleasure-meter under His halo spike with relish?

“For His pleasure we are and were created…”  So, what about us pleases Him? Answer: FAITH!  Faith, that’s what brings Him pleasure; faith, with all of its shades and hues.  When we just believe Him; take Him at His word; trust Him; depend on Him; acknowledge Him; receive Him; worship Him; think about Him voluntarily; notice His attention; when we care what He thinks; when we honor Him instead of ignoring Him… He is touched.  If He weren’t omniscient I would say He is probably surprised and touched.  We know He is never surprised, but He does marvel when genuine spirituality shines through in the face of His otherwise generally impudent children.

Of course, it’s not as if God is some kind of weak and lonely animal starving for attention, approval and acceptance.  That wouldn’t even be an accurate portrayal of me and my wife in our relationships with our children, much less our transcendent, almighty, self-sufficient Creator.  We love our kids and (usually) enjoy loving them, even when they are ungrateful and naughty.  But, when our “investment” suddenly returns in kind, obviously the thrill can be very deep.  Is it unjust or sacrilegious to say that God likewise enjoys our relatively minute responses to His tireless efforts which are constantly directed toward us?  Right, God doesn’t NEED you, me or anyone else… BUT, He does WANT us…  His desire toward us is/was so intense that He gave His own Son to pay for our redemption.  Don’t tell me He doesn’t sincerely celebrate when He sees the fruit of His sacrifice.  He delights in our humble responses to His wooing Spirit.

My Dad came back from Maryland just to see me perform.

Mmmhmm… that’s kind of like us telling our neighbor that our Father came all the way from heaven just to save us from sin.  When God “overhears” such talk from us, voluntary and sincere… I think He cries, smiles and stores that moment away for later reference…

Amidst the great host of people and things that God will someday burn in the most horrifying pyrotechnic display in history (otherwise known as the vengeance of eternal fire), I hope my life is rich with precious “paragraphs” that he deems worth saving because they include reflections of His own work of love on me.  I recently preached about how the lost and the saved will all face the consuming fire of God one way or another.  The unbeliever will have his very soul tormented in the flames.  As believers, our work will be tried in the flames.  Oh, how wonderful if we have service that is not consumed.

Testimony # 2

Some believers travel an awfully rough road on their way to Christ.  Such was the case in the life of this reader’s testimony.  Now, you and I know that no two testimonies of salvation are exactly the same.  Many saints find Him while they are still a child; others on their very deathbed.  Some (like me) are frightened away from the gates hell by an old-fashioned, leather-lunged, hell-fire-and-brimstone preacher; others are simply drawn by the beautiful and intense love of the Savior manifested in the generosity of some quiet witness.  God’s tools are truly diverse and, yes, sometimes even strange.  Here is the life-story of a faithful Christian woman whose confidence in Christ is readily evident. Admittedly, to some readers it will appear that her faith came in a rather unconventional setting and accompanied by some peculiar circumstances, yet the transaction of grace was still transforming.  Read on.  She has entitled her journey to the foot of the cross simply, “My Testimony.”  Here it is now with some editing to fit the typical style of these blogs… 

 

“MY TESTIMONY”

 

My mother married at 15 to get away from an abusive father… only to end up with an abusive husband.  By the time she was 19, she had had 3 children and a miscarriage.  When I was about 3½ she left my brother, sister and me in South Carolina with her mother and just simply ran away.  She ended up in Baltimore, MD where she found a job working in a bar.  When she had saved enough money, she came back to South Carolina to get her children.  My grandfather and father would not let her take us; even threatening her with a gun.  So, she went back to Baltimore where she saved even more money and then made a second trip to come and get us.  This time Mom went to the sheriff's office and got an escort.  As you would expect, she was able to leave with us that time.

Because Mom worked nights and slept days, she put us in a boarding house where she paid someone else to keep us.  She visited every weekend.  Not an ideal arrangement.  Life was very uncertain.  We never knew from one day till the next if and when we might be whisked away to a new “home.”  By the time I was fifteen I had been in 8 “homes” and 9 different schools.  Life, for me, was very insecure.  All I wanted was a home to call my own; a place where I would be loved.

None of the places where I stayed were Christian.  I do remember visiting a Catholic Church once, and I also went to VBS one summer.  We lived with my aunt in South Carolina for a while.  During that time my grandmother would take us to church… sometimes.  That’s about all the exposure I received to “spiritual” things.  Obviously, God and Christ were not taught to me much in my early years.

One day Mom told us we would be moving again.  We had lived with her for a little over two years at that time and had started to play hooky from school.  She was concerned about us getting into more and bigger trouble in Baltimore.  She had heard about a family who would take care of us across the Chesapeake Bay on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  Naturally, when we found out about this we were very angry.  We all cried and accused her of “not loving us” and “not wanting us anymore.”  All we could think of was that she was always just sending us away.

Well, we came to the new place for an "interview" with our prospective "foster parents" …to be evaluated.  If we didn’t measure, then up they wouldn’t take us.  We must have passed inspection, because I ended up staying with them until I got married.  I must say that it was a good place to live, but again, we still didn’t go to church.

On my first day of school on the Easter Shore, I had met the boy who is now my husband.  He told me later that he had fallen in love with me “at first sight” …as they say.  We dated for six months, but were then told by my foster parents that we were getting “too serious” …as they say.  We had to stop seeing each other.  We were told that “We didn’t even know what love was."

Well, I entered a new relationship after that.  Like all people, I made some very poor choices.  Unlike many people, my bad choice was not easily hidden.  We dated for a year and a half… I got pregnant, and we got married. 

My young husband went off to Vietnam before our son was even six months old.  He came back an alcoholic.  We did have a beautiful daughter after he returned, yet life was definitely not easy.  He continued to drink, had numerous jobs and eventually went back into the service only a few years after his first discharge.  He left for overseas duty once again and, sad to say, I realized how nice it was that I did not have to deal with an alcoholic in my life every day.  So, when he returned I told him that the children and I would not move with him to his next duty station, unless he would stop drinking.  He could not, or would not… so I asked for a divorce.  He went off to North Carolina and I stayed on The Shore.

When my first love found out that I was separated, he asked me out.  He was also in the process of getting a divorce.  A year and a half later we married.  Neither one of us had Christ in our life.

Soon after we got married we were introduced to Amway.  I was exposed to the gospel more in Amway than I had been in my entire life previously.  At each meeting God was praised and at each seminar there were testimonies given.  At one such seminar (in Norfolk, Virginia) I heard testimonies given by a number of people.  I began to wonder if God really wanted me in His family after all.  I remember a “Miss Blackwell” was on stage at one of these meetings.  She started speaking to people in the audience and asking them to give their souls over to Christ.  She began describing certain people in the crowd with specifics; “a lady in a blue dress,” or “a man who was worried about his job” should ask the Lord into their lives, etc.  I remember that I sat there in my seat and began to pray.  I asked God, “Do you really want me, as bad as I have been and as much as I have sinned in my life?  You could not possibly forgive me!” 

It may seem odd to you, but I asked Him for a sign… so that I would know that He was talking to me.  As she kept pointing out people I started searching for something specific in my life that she could say for me to know that I should respond to her invitation.  Well, my daughter had a planter's wart on her big toe that we had not been able to get rid of, so I began concentrating on that as my sign.  It did not take long for her to say, there is a lady in the balcony who is thinking of a pain in her foot.  Then she changed it to the toe on the right foot.  I could not remember which foot it was on but that was close enough for me!!  As simple, small, insignificant and unorthodox as it may seem, it was through that wart that God pushed me over the edge.  I knew God wanted me and that I could be forgiven!!  I left my seat without saying a word to my husband and began making my way to the floor.  I cried and prayed all the way there.  What I did not realize was that my husband was behind me all the way.  God had spoken to his heart as well.  We both held each other and cried as we prayed and asked God into our lives and accepted Jesus Christ as our Savior.

Two weeks after that seminar, I was thinking about my daughter's foot and asked her to show me the wart on her right foot.  The toe was clear.  So, I asked her to let me see her left foot.  That toe was clear as well.  I began to get chills and to cry.  I had not asked God to heal her, but He completely took away the wart anyway.  And, it has never returned.  Typically, the doctors had no explanation.

It has been many years now since Christ came into my life.  It took a while to find a church that I could call home, but I am now a very active member of a local Bible believing church; so also are my husband and most of my family.  God not only forgave me but He has also helped me to grow in faith as a Christian.  I want to continue growing in grace, and, I want to reach out to as many others as I possibly can.

There is no peace in this world like the peace that I received when I came to know Jesus Christ.

 

 

What a blessing! 

Now, here is what I want you to do.  Just as I requested before, write out your testimony.  Tell me how you received Christ as your Savior.  Send it to me (along with permission for me to edit it and to include it in a blog entry).  I would love to publish more testimonies of salvation on this blog. 

 

 

 

“A 35 year Old Note”

The following is a transcript of a testimony and a song which was shared with us this past Sunday morning at GBC.  I give you my best attempt at a transcription of it (with very slight editing to adjust its form for smoother reading).

“Before I sing this morning, I’ve got a little story to tell you.  When I was looking for this song that I’m going to sing, I was reading the words to it, and it reminded me of something.  When I got home, I ran upstairs and went in the closet.  I was rummaging through some boxes that I had not opened since I moved into this house (and I’ve been here for about three years now).  In the top of this first box I opened, was this wallet.  Now, this was a wallet that I carried with me when I was about 19 years old; going to a college (it was going to a community college up in Pennsylvania).  It was used rather well.  

But, the story is not about this wallet, it’s about a note that I wrote to myself.  I wrote the note 2 months short of about 35 years ago.  This note is right here, and I want to read it to you this morning.  The interesting thing about it is that I have never read it to anyone.  No one has ever seen this note but me.  I don’t know what made me write it, but I wrote it… and I folded it up… and I put it in this wallet.  And it’s been there ever since.  Of course I’ve had other wallets since, but it has still stayed in this wallet. 

This was at a time in my life (I was about 19 years old) and my family did not go to church, and they still don’t.  None of them are saved.  We never talked about Jesus; never talked about God at home.  But, to me, for some reason, I felt like God was always calling me, but I didn’t really know it was Him.  There was this void in my soul.  I just felt empty at the time.  I remember, I was sitting at my desk, up at school in this (what they called a) dormitory.  Actually, it looked like a haunted house to me.  My bedroom floor was slanted and I had a bed; it was a plywood bed with a mattress on it.  But, it was ok.  It worked out pretty good.  It was kind of like camping out for 2 years.  But, it only cost me $10.oo a week, so couldn’t complain too much. 

But, I was sitting at that desk and was feeling kind of bad about myself; and feeling sorry for myself… and I was alone.  Things just didn’t seem right with me, so I began to write this note. 

I’ll read it to you.  This is the first time anybody has ever heard this note, now.  After I read it here a couple of days ago, it seems a little dramatic, so…  But, it’s folded up right here and it’s got a nasty spot on it.  The letters are kind of faded on it.  You can hardly see them now.  It’s older than Pastor Talley.  But, here it is (if I can still see the letters), it says:

Somehow I feel like my life is headed in the direction of mental destruction.  However, I hold no key to my real future.  And for me, each day I carry a thought, and that thought usually turns into a worry.  And that worry is, for the most part, the same one.  Who am I?  And, what is my purpose on this world?  And, what will become of me?  I try to think of the simpler things in life, but they usually end up back at that same one.  I try to overcome it, but it’s hard to do, and I don’t know if I ever will.  I know if I don’t, I will never find my goal in life, whatever it may be.  I’m very depressed and unhappy, and something in my life is missing.  I hope I find it.

Now, I wrote that note.  I know it was 35 years ago because I signed it, March 28, 1974, 4:30 p.m.  Down at the bottom, there’s some black letters here.  I saved that note and a few years later I got it out again and the little black letters say, “I found Jesus” . . .  And, I signed that; dated it November, 22 1983.  That was at 9:00 p.m. at night.  There was a pastor; (I was going to a church at that time) he came over to my house, and was talking to me, and I accepted Jesus then.  So, I don’t know, I just felt kind of compelled to read this to you today.  I thought somebody ought to hear it after 35 years. 

But, I want to sing this song to you and see if these words don’t sound like this note when you listen to it.  I hope I can sing it…

‘Here I am’

 

There was a time when I thought I would not make it.

All I could do was to fall down and pray.

Through the problems and through the fears,

I’m glad Jesus was so near;

And by His grace here I am today.

 

Here I am; though battle scared.

Here I am; I’ve come so far,

And my faith is even stronger than before.

Here I am. I made it through.

Here I am, thanks to You.

I’ll never doubt Your love for me any more.

 

There was a time when I did not know You Lord;

When I didn’t handle things the way I should.

But as I look back… I didn’t understand.

Now I see God’s mighty hand,

And how You took something bad and made it good.

 

And here I am without a fear,

Here I am, oh through the tears,

My faith is even stronger than before.

Here I am. I made it through.

Here I am, Lord, thanks to You.

I’ll never doubt Your love for me any more.

I’ll never doubt Your love for me any more.

And, here I am…”

 

Wasn’t that a blessing!?  True story too. 

Now, here is what I want you to do.  Write your testimony out.  Tell me how you received Christ as your Savior.  Send it to me (along with permission for me to edit it and to include it in a blog entry).  I would love to publish more testimonies of salvation on this blog throughout this year.