Our God Saves

Personal Salvation Testimonies

Compiled by Valerie Howard

Copyright © 2013 by Valerie Howard

Our God Saves

By Valerie Howard

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1490303666

All rights reserved solely by the authors.  The authors guarantee all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work.  Unless otherwise noted, all Bible quotations are from the King James Version.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the authors.

To our Savior.

A Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

I am so excited that this book is in your hands!

You are about to read a handful of stories about how God saves sinners, and the best part is—they’re all true!

After reading this book, be sure to join the discussions on the book’s blog:

http://www.OurGodSavesBook.wordpress.com

I hope you enjoy reading these true tales as much as I have!

Prayerfully,

Valerie Howard

The Carpet

Alvin Browning

I will never forget the first time I stepped into a church.  It didn’t look like a church (which, looking back, probably helped with the awkwardness).  It was a nondescript white building in a nondescript part of town. Businesses came and businesses went through this little building all the time.  This one would be different.        I looked at the floor as I walked in on a Sunday morning in April.  The building we were in had been a pool hall and a beauty salon.  It had been a little bit of everything and now it was a church, even if it didn’t look like one.  The floor was now carpet.  It had been carpet, then tile, and now carpet again.  It seems like a small detail, but like so much in life, the little things fit together to tell a much bigger story.  And, in the case of the church carpet, the story means everything.

I remember the day they took the tile out of Pat’s Beauty Salon and put the carpet into Emmanuel Baptist Church.  I was playing basketball down the street.  This wasn’t the part of town where people went to start churches.  Ever.  And so, I was completely unsuspecting as I finished my game and walked up the road to go find my sister, who had wandered off again.  I figured she would be at a friend’s house or riding her bike.  She wasn’t.  Finally, I saw her at Pat’s Beauty Salon and went to go get her.  It wasn’t until it was too late that I realized she wasn’t at Pat’s Beauty Salon but the building that had been Pat’s Beauty Salon.  Now it was a church.

This was the evening I was introduced to Mark. Pastor Mark, the owner and operator of the new flavor of the month at the little white building at the corner of Calvin Road and Highway 24.  I had never met a Pastor.  I’m not even really sure I’d ever seen one, unless they were on TV selling “prayer cloths” or “holy water.”  I was seventeen and, needless to say, my experience with churches and pews and pastors was limited…in fact it was non-existent.

He introduced himself, and I noticed right away that he was wearing a West Virginia ball cap.  I was from West Virginia.  Coincidence, no doubt.  Looking back, I know how this sounds, but my first impression of Pastor Mark was of how “normal” he was.  I didn’t see any prayer cloths or holy water.  I saw a lot of displaced tile and pieces of carpet ready to be put into their new home.  Pastor Mark liked football.  He had an easy, non-threatening manner, and for about ten minutes, I forgot he was even a pastor.  He worked and talked, and I didn’t work and sort of listened.

It was amazing, how fast the beauty salon was transforming.  There was a podium sitting on a raised platform at the front of the building.  Pastor Mark referred to the podium as a “pulpit.”  Then he popped the question.  Well, not the question, but a question.  “Can you give me a hand with something tomorrow?”  I said “sure,” and he told me to meet him the next day at the church at around 6:00 PM.

The next day, at around 7:30 PM, I was profusely sweating as we stopped to catch our breath and survey the work we had done.  The empty room with just the carpet and the “pulpit” was now full of pews.  If I had known that four days later I would have been sitting on one, in church, I would have run the other way.  But before I could get out the door, Pastor Mark had one more favor to ask of me.  “No problem,” I told him, “how can I help you?”  I actually liked this guy, and so even as the words “Come join us this Sunday” left his mouth, I found myself nodding yes.  I hated myself when I walked out.  What had I been thinking?  It would not be the last time that week that I would have that thought.

That thought occurred to me again on that Sunday morning in April as I stared at the carpet.  It was familiar, which was what I needed in an environment that was completely unfamiliar.  A group of fifteen or so had gathered for one of the first Sunday church services at the newly re-named Emmanuel Baptist Church.  In the background, a piano played and a song was being sung.  I was pretending to look at the words but was looking at the carpet instead.  The song was foreign, and so were the words.  This is so weird, I thought as the singing mercifully ended and I sat down in one of those hard wooden pews that I had helped move into the building a few days earlier.

An offering plate was passed, which was the first thing that had happened all morning that made sense, but I didn’t see any prayer cloths.  Pastor Mark wasn’t wearing a robe as he stepped behind the podium, the pulpit, to deliver what at first sounded like a speech.  But I would learn that it was so much more. It was a message…and I was the intended audience.

After five minutes of speaking, Pastor Mark had my attention.  After ten minutes, I had stopped tracking the time until the end of the service.  In fact, I lost all sense of time altogether.  Terms like “Jesus” and “Holy Spirit” were weird and a little foreign, but even I knew what Pastor Mark was talking about.  He was talking about life and death, and his subject matter was life or death.  It was engaging and enthralling and a little bit scary.  It was a lot scary.

He could have talked for days, but after about 45 minutes, he was winding down.  Heads were bowed and eyes were closed.  But mine were wide open.  For the first time really.  As I stared at the carpet for the millionth time that morning, I saw much more than the carpet.  I saw my life flashing before my eyes.  The pastor had brought life or death, and its meaning, into the forefront on that first Sunday morning in April and somehow it all made sense.

People call what was happening at that moment “the convicting of the Holy Spirit.”  At the time, I thought I was just suffering from a sore stomach.  But there was no doubt that there was a tugging on my heart as the invitation to “get saved” was given.  It was powerful, and the pressing feeling on my gut became so intense that I thought for a fleeting moment that I might vomit.  But I didn’t, and I didn’t get up, even as my knuckles turned white and I began to sweat.  Eyes opened, heads lifted, and the church dismissed.  I almost ran for the exit.  As I finally made it to the door, there was Pastor Mark with a knowing smile and an “I’m praying for you” to send me off.  And he was, as I would learn two days later.

It was the Tuesday after the Sunday morning in April.  It was a breezy afternoon, warm and sunny.  But I didn’t feel very warm.  I felt the cold fingers of conviction squeezing my heart.  I wasn’t sweating any more, but I was scared.   As I walked up the road, I saw a car parked at Emmanuel Baptist Church.  I was almost relieved as I decided to go pay Pastor Mark a visit.

With me was a friend, which made our journey into the church easier.  There in his newly renovated office was the pastor who two days earlier had brought upon me this new feeling.  Conviction.  There were a few moments of idle chatter, and then he popped another question.  This time it was the question.  Not the marrying kind though.  Even bigger.  “Are you lost?”   I’d only heard that term for the first time on Sunday morning, but I knew what it meant, and I knew that I was, and I told him so.

So we made the walk from his office to the altar.  Nobody was there.  But God was, and somehow even then I knew it.  We knelt down, which was a little weird, but I was way past weird at this point.  I didn’t care.  I didn’t want to go to Hell and I did want to go to Heaven.  I wanted my life to matter.  And all of a sudden, I realized it did, to Somebody.  And so, on a Tuesday in April, Pastor Mark led me through what people call the Sinner’s Prayer.  When I got to the point to where I understood and believed that I was a sinner and Jesus was the Savior, it was time to confess to Jesus and to ask Him to do what only He could do, completely forgive me...salvation.  And so, I started the prayer with that confession.  I was a sinner.  Romans 3:10, 3:23 and a hundred other verses made that clear.  Of course, the confession was important, because Romans 6:23 indicates that there is a penalty for sin—a wage, something we earn.  Death.  And so, the confession became a petition.  Save me from sin, from death, from myself.  And He did.  That was it.  It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it changed everything.  All I know is I was introduced to a Man, who was also God, which I would come to know very well.  And that Jesus saves.

So here I sit, over thirteen years later, amazed at how easily the details come rushing back.  How vivid that week is in my mind, the way the air felt as I left the church on that Tuesday in April with no idea then that I would never be the same.  I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Jesus.  I first knew Him as Savior.  Today I am pleased to call Him Friend.

My story blends into the others you will read as one among many.  I hope you enjoy it anyway.  Salvation stories are my favorite.  They are miracles, all of them.  We, by God’s grace, are miraculously saved by the blood of Jesus.

Rest Assured

Emily Carmichael

Having grown up in a pastor’s home and only being five years old, I was a pretty good kid.  I would later go on to be “that kid” that spoiled Christmas for other children by telling them that Santa Clause wasn’t real, but at age five I hadn’t gotten there yet.  As far as I knew, I was pretty decent.  Growing up in church, I knew all about God and His Son Jesus who had died on the cross.  Probably I could have given you the gospel backwards and forwards.  But that wasn’t good enough.

Being the fourth of five children, my older siblings constantly wanted to inform me of things they thought I didn’t know.  So one night, my older sister and I were in bed talking (we were supposed to be sleeping, but sleep seemed highly overrated back then).  That evening at church, we’d had a special meeting of which I remember nothing.  It must have made an impact on my sister, though, because she decided she must tell me about Heaven and Hell, describing the beauty in the presence of God as opposed to the despair of an eternity apart from Him.  Although I had heard these things before, I was struck for the first time with the understanding that I was a sinner, that sin separated me from God, and that I deserved to be separated from God forever in that awful place called Hell.  Now, at age five I certainly didn’t understand all there was to know about sin and the nature of God, but I knew that my disobedience to God was a problem and I needed someone to take care of my sin problem.  Under conviction of the Holy Spirit, I got out of bed to find my dad.  Although he was trying to sleep, he got up when I told him that I wanted to be saved.  We sat down on the top step of the staircase in our house, and I listened to my dad as he explained to me again the gospel: that though we are undeserving sinners, Jesus came and lived a perfect life, took our sins on Himself, died on the cross for us, and rose from the dead the third day.  Whoever puts their trust in Him as their only way of salvation will be saved and become a child of God.  We prayed together, and I asked God to forgive me and save me.  What an amazingly gracious God we have, to send His Son to die for people who hate Him!

Because I was so young when I trusted in Jesus as my Savior, I struggled for a long time with assurance that I was saved.  I wondered, What if I didn’t really know enough to be saved when I was five?  Had I really understood?  I can’t tell you how many times I prayed and asked Jesus to save me…just in case it didn’t take the first time…or the second…or the third!  The question wasn’t whether I had lost my salvation—I was raised in a solid, Bible-believing home, so I knew that there was no such thing as losing one’s salvation.  We can’t lose our salvation by doing bad things—we didn’t get it by doing good things!  As God saves us, undeserving of His favor, so He keeps us in the palm of His hand, still undeserving (John 10:28).  That was never in question; my question was always whether I had ever been saved in the first place.  Though I knew the Bible in my head, I still struggled off and on for years with this and other questions.  It wasn’t until college that I finally sat down with a professor who put it in terms that helped me immensely.  “Emily,” he said, “either the Bible is true or it isn’t.  Either it means what it says or it doesn’t.”

If the Bible is true (of which I am convinced), then Romans 10:9-10 means exactly what it says.  “That if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.  For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation” (New King James Version).  The professor also took me to the book of First John, which gives numerous proofs of salvation for which we can examine ourselves to see if our lives give evidence of true belief.  You see, I had been living by my emotions instead of knowledge.  Many times, I did not feel saved and so I questioned whether I was.

Finally, after years of doubt, I took God at His Word and began to live life (though certainly not perfectly) for the purpose for which I was created: to glorify God.  Second Corinthians 5:15 is one of my favorite verses in the Bible, and one which I attempt to live out.  “And He [Jesus] died for all, that those who live should live no longer for themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again” (NKJV).

A Town of

Many Churches

Larry Wilcox

I grew up in a small town in Northern Maine where they raise a lot of potatoes and other crops.  A big part of our family’s life in the fall time centered around “The County” potato harvest.  This small town had six or seven churches at the time, and the first church that I remember attending was the Methodist church a couple of streets from our home.  The local grocery store owner, Ken, invited my three brothers and me to Sunday school.  Here is where I have my first recollection of many Bible stories and my first favorite song: “There’s Within my Heart a Melody”.

My parents became active in the Pentecostal church in town in the late 1950’s.  Our whole family went to Sunday school, church, and youth group there for many years.  It was here that I heard the gospel for the first time.  I remember hearing that we are all sinners, that Jesus Christ died for our sins, and that we need to confess our sins to become part of God’s family, so when we died we would go to Heaven.

I came under conviction numerous times when hearing God’s Word preached, but always resisted.  This Pentecostal church had some practices that I didn’t quite understand or accept—like speaking in tongues.  Even so, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the true way of salvation was preached at this church.  As a result of this church’s ministry, the seed knowledge of salvation was planted in me, my parents, and my grandmother.  The three of them are in Heaven today because of this fact and because of God’s grace.

In high school, I started going to a Baptist church nearby with my girlfriend (who is now my loving wife).  We went to numerous church services there where the true gospel of Christ was preached.  One evening at her home, she led me to the Lord.  I confessed that I was a sinner, asked forgiveness, and asked the Lord into my heart.  At that moment, all my burdens were lifted and there was a melody in my heart.  That event was 48 years ago.  After I was saved, I came forward during a service at church, was baptized, and became a member.

After getting married, my wife and I moved a few times, but God always led us to a good Bible-preaching, Bible-believing church where we were able to fellowship and serve in many capacities with other believers.

I am so thankful for my eternal salvation, which is nothing that I have earned or deserved—it is a gift from God that comes to all who believe.  I am thankful for Christ’s death on the cross and the blood that He shed for me.

Unworthy

Rose Johnson

My family didn’t attend church at all after my sister and I were in grade school, so I really have no memories of Sunday school or church.  We never learned much about God and the Bible, and never thought much of it.  We prayed before some meals, but that was about the extent of religion in our lives.  Personally, I had no need for God.  I was a “good” girl; I didn’t drink, smoke, or do drugs.  Neither did my friends.

A few weeks after my high school graduation, I received a phone call from one of my friends from school.  She invited me to go to church with her the following Sunday.  Since my family had not gone to church for years, I had no interest in going.  Then she said something that got my attention—a single guy would be preaching.  That sounded like something I needed to check out.  So I said I would go.

I don’t remember anything about the young man, but I do remember what he said at the end of his talk.  He told us that we were all sinners, that Jesus loved us and died on the cross for our sins, and that all we needed to do was trust in Him for our salvation.  I had never heard anything like that before.  After church that morning, I had many questions for my friend.  She answered to the best of her ability, and the next Sunday I went to church again.  This time, when the invitation was given, I went forward to accept Christ as my Savior.  I still didn’t understand a lot, but I did understand that I didn’t want to go to Hell.

Since I had already graduated, I was too old to be in the youth group.  So the church made the decision to make me a youth group leader. I had no spiritual knowledge at all and floundered for the next few years.  No one in that church taught new believers how to grow or how to live a Christian life.  In meeting people over the years, I’ve realized that this very common mistake occurs in churches all over the country.  Every new believer needs a mentor—someone who takes them under their wing and helps them grow, someone who answers their questions, someone who shows them how to live a Christian life.

In the church where I was saved, emphasis was placed on the outside things—hairlines and hemlines.  Instead, it should have been on the things that matter: loving the Lord, living a life that is pleasing to Him, and witnessing to others.   It took years of reading, learning, and growing to get things in the proper order in my life.

My Christian life has been full of ups and downs—always growing, sometimes slowly, sometimes a little faster, sometimes sliding backwards a few steps, catching up, growing again.  But throughout the years, the Lord has proven Himself faithful.  He loves us when we are close to Him, and still loves us when we drift away.  The Christian life is not always an easy one.  We go through good times and hard times, but Jesus Christ is there for every step.  I can’t imagine life without Him and thank Him every day for loving me enough to die on the cross for someone as unworthy as I am.

Rebirth

Kelly Caniglia

I was born into a Christian home where the Bible was the center of our family life.  I first began attending church with my parents while I was still in utero.  As a result, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior at a young age.  I can’t remember exactly how old I was, but I do remember coming forward one night after church service and praying with our pastor.  “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.  For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation” (Romans 10:9-10).  In my young mind, I pictured my soul as a black hole deep inside me where the devil lived, filled with darkness and cobwebs (sin).  I visualized Jesus marching in with a broom, turning on the light, sweeping away the cobwebs and kicking the devil out.  To this day, I still think that visualization is applicable—once you accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, God sheds light in your life where there once was darkness.  “To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me” (Acts 26:18).

However, when I was ten years old, things in my life began to change.  My family moved to another state, and I had to transition from a private Christian school to a public school system.  What a huge cultural shock that was for me!  Even at that young age, my beliefs were very different from other kids my age.  I was picked on and teased mercilessly.  I was naturally very shy to begin with, and this caused me to become even more insecure about myself and my beliefs.  A couple years later, my parents were divorced and my family stopped attending church. I attended church sporadically with friends, but with the lack of guidance from my parents, I eventually stopped attending as well.

I grew into a rebellious teenager, struggling with my identity.  I was trying to find acceptance among the wrong peer group; before long I barely knew who I was.  However, my heart was always with Christ.  I struggled with a guilty conscience over not having the relationship with Christ I knew I should have had.  Even though I knew what I was doing was wrong, I focused on worldly ways to stifle my guilty conscience and fill the empty void I felt in my life.  As a result of my actions, I ended up getting pregnant at seventeen.  I was terrified when I first found out, not only because I was so young, but I also knew the biological father was not going to help me in any way.  My family was very disappointed in me as well—my mom wanted me to give the baby up for adoption, my dad wanted me to do whatever I felt was the right decision, and my brother wanted me to get an abortion (which absolutely horrified me).  I remember crying and crying, asking God to help guide my decision over raising the baby or placing the baby for adoption.  After spending much time in prayer, I felt the right decision for me was to be the best mother I could be.  For the first time in my life, I surrendered one hundred percent of my life to Jesus Christ, fully opening my mind and heart to God’s will and purpose for me.

Over the next year, God worked a miracle of restoration in my life.  I knew I had no choice but to follow Christ; the alternative was a dark path I no longer wanted any part of.  Whenever I encountered a struggle with sin, I turned to my Bible for direction.  I finally had the peace in my life that comes only from having a right relationship with God and the faith that everything in my life was going to turn out okay.  I also wanted my daughter to be raised in a solid Christian home, and I knew that would be difficult unless I had a right relationship with God and attended church myself.  I wanted her to have that peace that comes from trusting in Christ for herself one day.  I slowly regained victory over various parts of my life, removing bad influences and relationships from my life.  Turning your life fully over to Christ means walking in this world by faith and not by sight, being in the world but not a part of it.  There were times when I knew I was on the verge of falling flat on my face, but God was always by my side.  Through all my ups and downs, I have always felt His presence in my life and my faith has been the glue that kept me together.

The birth of my daughter was a huge turning point for me, and the Lord has blessed me immensely over the years since.  It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how much I have accomplished in life with the grace of God.  I shudder when I think of the ways my life could have turned out had I not turned my life over to the Lord when I did.  Shortly after my daughter was born, the Lord brought an amazing man into my life, who also later adopted my daughter, and we have been married for thirteen wonderful years.  I was able to attend and graduate nursing school, which I feel is the calling in my life.  I pray to be able to one day go on a medical missions trip.  My family has been blessed with a church where we can fellowship with other Christians and grow in our Christian faith.  My life now is firmly centered on Christ, and my mind and soul continue to be renewed daily through the Word of God.  I feel as if my testimony is not complete as God continues to work in my life.

My struggles have taught me that God is always faithful, despite our unfaithfulness.  God’s love is truly amazing: completely undeserved and unfailing for those who respond to him and accept his Son as their Savior.  He worked out my salvation, despite my initial stubbornness to turn toward the ways of the world.  God can free you from the things that you think you will never be free from.  You just have to place your trust in him and surrender your life to him one hundred percent.  “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).

Heaven or Hell?

Jeremy Rowe

When I was five going on six, my family and I were having a family devotional time.  We were reading a story from a “Keys for Kids” devotional.   I do not remember all the particulars of the story, but I do remember there was a storm, and a tree crashed down into a boy’s home.  The question was asked about where he would go if he died: Heaven or Hell.  I remember asking my dad how I could become saved.  We went to my bedroom to pray.  I still remember asking him what I should say.  He didn’t want me just repeating his words, so he said maybe I wasn’t quite ready.  I still remember the burning need to pray to God that night.  I told my dad that I had to pray right then; I was under such strong conviction to do that.  He walked me through a prayer, but said it was important to know why I needed to be saved.  I needed to understand that I was a sinner in need of a Savior, that Jesus was the perfect God-man who died in my place on the cross and took the payment for my sins, so He could be that Savior.  He also wanted to make sure I understood what it meant to ask to be saved.  I knew I was asking God to forgive my sins and apply Jesus’ sacrifice to my life so I could go to Heaven someday.  I am thankful to God for His salvation plan and the life-changing work He completed in me.

A Godly Mother

Kris Wescott

I don’t know when I first realized I loved the Lord, but I do know He loved me before I was even a glimmer in the far recesses of the minds of those who were to become my parents.  Again and again, I have heard my mother share her testimony, telling how her own unwed and pregnant mother (not acceptable because of her error) was en route to the doctor’s office for an abortion, when her grandfather offered to let this sinner live with him and bring forth her offspring.  This Christian man helped my grandmother raise the child of God who was to become my mother.

I remember going to church and Sunday school as far back as my childhood memories allow.  I felt at home when I was in the house of the Lord, so I would be ready and waiting at the door each Sunday morning.  It was in my early years of Sunday school that I asked Jesus into my heart.  I understood what a horrible sinner I was, and was shocked that God would let His only Son die on the cross when He hadn’t done anything wrong!  I knew I wouldn’t have been brave enough to give up my own life for everyone!  I sat quietly on my bed in my room one day after Sunday school and prayed.  I asked forgiveness for my sins.  At the young age of ten, I thought it strange that He had chosen me.  I often wondered why God felt a sinner such as I was worthy of the generous gift of His only begotten Son.  I now truly believe it was a blessing that He bestowed upon my saintly mother for the numerous prayers she had sent on behalf of her children!  My mother is an inspiration to me of how I should serve the Lord.  She truly lives the mantra of “Jesus and others and you”.  Time and time again, I have watched her give of her time, give of her belongings, and give of herself for others.

I was fortunate that God has allowed me a churchgoing man.  I was filled with joy and relief when he became a Christian and we were baptized together.  I am blessed with three children of my own who also trust in the Lord!  It is odd to say that this is my testimony, as it is really the testimony of the Lord our God, who has allowed me the mind, body, and soul with which to put into words all that is written for you.

Christian or Hypocrite?

Donna Cressey

One night at supper, as I sat at the table with my husband and three children, I looked at them and thought, Where did this lonely feeling come from?  When did I start feeling so unhappy?  How long have I felt this way?

Wasn’t having the family I wanted enough to make me happy?  All four of them needed me and loved me as I loved and needed them.  So what was my problem?  What got me thinking about these feelings, anyway?  Was it what the Brownie leader said when we were planning a banquet at the leaders’ meeting this morning?

“I just know they’re going to plan it for a Wednesday night!  And if they do, I’m not going, because I don’t miss prayer meeting for anything!”

Wow, what a commitment! I thought.  That statement really stuck in my head!  She has to be the second person I’ve met in my life that seems to be a real Christian.  If there is a God, shouldn’t the people who believe in one be nice?  Shouldn’t they be next to perfect?

For weeks, days, and years, the conversation with that leader kept gnawing at me.  Every once in a while something or someone would make me think about her or the pastor’s wife I met when my sister, Judy, and I went to Sunday school.

Judy had been living with our grandmother since she was a baby.  She came home to live with us when she was twelve because my grandmother had spoiled her rotten and couldn’t handle her anymore.  I was a year and a half younger than she was and thrilled that she could live with us.  Finally, I had someone my age to play with!  Judy was my idol.  I did whatever she wanted me to do even when I knew it was wrong.  Some of the things she made me do made me scared or sick.  But, she would beat me up if I didn’t do what she wanted.

One Sunday at church, Judy took me downstairs with the pastor’s wife.  The pastor’s wife was a kind person; she helped me with my craft that summer at Vacation Bible School.  While we were downstairs, she kept asking us questions and I answered whatever Judy had said, although I had no idea what I was answering to.  I just knew that I didn’t want to disappoint the pastor’s wife or get beat up by my sister.  The next thing I knew, Judy and I were being baptized.  So we got dunked in the water, got dried off, and went home.  We kept going to Sunday school for a while after that, and I memorized Psalm 100 so I could win a prize.  I didn’t know what it meant, but I memorized it anyway.  I didn’t get the prize, because someone else learned it before I did.  I thought that was such a rip-off.  That teacher should have smaller prizes for kids who at least learned it!  I thought.

The older I got, the more things bothered me about people who said they believed in God but lived as if it didn’t mean anything to them.

For instance, when I was in high school, a boy asked me to go to youth group at his church.  I went with him twice, but one of his friends told me that they were not going to let him see me anymore, because they found out that I smoked.  And if I did that maybe I’d do other bad stuff too, and they didn’t want him to be influenced by me.  So now what?  God doesn’t want me either?  Fine with me!

I also thought of my grandmother who favored Judy over me and the foster kids she took care of.  We couldn’t play outside on Sunday, because “you’re not supposed to do anything on Sunday, including work”.  But she did let us cut up paper into little tiny pieces and throw them all around the floor and see who could pick up the most pieces in the allotted time.  Wasn’t that playing?

Then there were my aunts.  They went to church too, but I didn’t like visiting them.  For one thing, they lived in a huge city near Boston.  The other thing was their houses were so clean you weren’t allowed to touch anything.  My aunts said, “Your house should be as clean as Heaven!”  Well, my mom’s house was as clean as their houses, and she didn’t go to church except for Easter and Christmas.  So is my mom a Christian too?  If my mom is a Christian, then why did she board me out?  Why did she give my sister away?  Why didn’t she read me stories like my friend’s mother did?  Why did she sing me sad songs when I was sick?  Why did she love my little sister more than me?

A gossipy Sunday school teacher was also added to my list of hypocrites.  When I was married and living in Saco, Maine, my mother-in-law wanted me to take my children, Skip, Vicky, and Debbie, to Sunday school.  So one Sunday I walked my children down the street to the Baptist church.  No one spoke to me except to answer my question as to where my children should go.

Several weeks later, I arrived early to pick up the children from their Sunday school classes.  I knocked on my youngest child’s classroom door.  The teacher answered and asked who I was looking for.

I said, “Debbie.”

She said, “Which one? I have two.”

I pointed to my daughter and the teacher proceeded to tell me how mine was the good one and that the other was always dirty and never dressed appropriately.  I knew of the other girl’s mother and knew she had been in the hospital for quite a while.  Who does this teacher think she is?  What a hypocrite!  Wasn’t she the woman who came into the church ahead of me wearing a mink coat?  I didn’t take my kids back to that church again.

Thinking about the Brownie leader and the pastor’s wife who I considered real Christians and thinking about the other Christians who I considered hypocrites and goody two-shoes, probably got me thinking about Christianity.  Lots of thoughts swirled around in my head.  What makes a person a Christian anyway?  Aren’t they supposed to be almost perfect?  Well, I’m far from perfect, and besides, God doesn’t want me influencing His people!  Do Christians have to have an immaculate home?  If so, I guess I’ll just have to go to Hell because I just can’t live in Heaven and not be able to make a mess.  That does it; I’ll never be one of them.  Maybe that’s why I’m so unhappy.  Why are the church doors always locked? Doesn’t God want me?  And another thing, if God is so good, why are all the Bibles black?  Didn’t black mean sin?  At least that’s what the pastor’s wife said all those years ago.

We moved to the country when our youngest was ten years old.  One day, a minister came to the house and asked if the kids could go to Vacation Bible School.  Of course, I said yes.  A good way for me to get free babysitting for a few hours!  For weeks after that, that pastor came every Sunday to take the kids to Sunday school as well.  He talked to my husband every time he was outside and never once said anything about the beer and cigarettes that Philip had in his hands.  I thought the pastor was even nicer than the pastor’s wife I had when I was a kid.

When summer came, my three kids went to camp with a bunch of other kids from the church.  They were so excited when they got home that they begged us to go to church.  We kept putting them off and finally told them to stop bugging us about it.

One day, my husband’s sister and brother-in-law came to visit us.  Paul wanted to know why we had a Bible on the coffee table if we never read it.  He then began to preach to us about God and stuff.  Paul was a changed man.  He used to be mean to his wife and quite the drinker, but he said God saved him after he’d had a very bad car accident.  Philip listened to him, but I made an excuse that I had things to do because I didn’t want to hear his nonsense.  I can’t be a Christian; I’m not good enough.

That very next night, Friday, the last Friday in July, Philip went to his sister’s house and didn’t come home until real late.  I just knew he was talking to his preacher brother-in-law, and I didn’t like it.  When Philip finally got home, he started to preach to me.  He told me what sinners we were and that we needed Jesus to take our sins away.  He said that only Jesus’ blood could cleanse our sins if we believe He died on the cross and rose again the third day.  He said that Jesus would come into our hearts to stay forever, giving us peace, joy, and happiness beyond our imagination.  He said he gave his life to Jesus and was going to start reading the Bible and going to church.

I thought he was off his rocker.  Didn’t we finally find friends we both like?  Didn’t we finally start having fun together again?  Didn’t we have fun at the parties we had at our friends’ houses?  What was he thinking?  What was I supposed to do now?

Oh, this will be just great.  I get to go have my fun alone again while he sits home and reads the Bible.

The next morning I told him I was going to my little sister’s and that I would be back when I get back if I even come back!

When I got to Peg’s house and told her what Philip was going to do, she and her husband sympathized with me.  That evening, Peg and I went to a nightclub.  As we sat at the table talking, a man came and asked if he could join us.  Well, why not, I thought, we get free drinks!  The man talked to us, about what, I don’t know.  I was so upset about my husband going to church that I couldn’t even think straight.  I told the man my problem when he asked me if I was upset about something, and he said, “Well, I go to church a lot, so what’s the big deal?”

I said, “No, you don’t understand.  He said he gave his life to Jesus and is going to live for Him.”

Peg and the man both rolled their eyes and said, almost in unison, “Now that’s going way too far.  You don’t need to be fanatical about religion.   As long as you believe in God, you’ll be okay.”

The man asked me to dance, but I didn’t want to, so Peg danced with him.  While they were dancing, two men from my high school came over to talk to me.  I tried to be as polite as I could, but I just wanted to be left alone so I could think and drink.  They asked me what was wrong, so I told them about my husband’s decision to follow God.  They both said they went to church all the time, so what was the big deal?  I tried to explain to them that giving your life to God was different from just going to church.  They both said the same thing all these others were saying.  You don’t have to be a fanatic about religion.

Now wait, I said to myself, one of these guys has five kids and the other has three, and they go to church on Sunday, but Saturday night they play around on their wives?  Are these people hypocrites, or what?

As I sat at the table alone, watching the people dance and the people sitting at the tables in this dim room, I thought, Are they all smiling and laughing the same fake smile and laughter that I have?  Are they just as miserable as I am?  Why do I feel like I’m in a very long, dark tunnel with a tiny speck of light at the end that seems to be a million miles away?  Why do people who go to church gossip like the Sunday school teacher, cheat on their spouses like these three men at the club, and look down on other people like my aunts whose houses are spotless?  What is this life all about anyway?  It seems like a merry-go-round.  You get on, go around, and get off.  You’re born, you live, you die.  When I was looking out my window in the city that night several years earlier and feeling so miserable and lonely as I am right now, what was I looking for?

Am I like this because my mother boarded me out when I was three years old because she couldn’t work, keep her house immaculate, and take care of me and my two older brothers?  Or was it because I broke out with psoriasis when I was four and everyone only dared get close enough to me to call out horrible names?  Even my own brother called me Scabby Mae!  Could it be because I slept in a crib until I was seven because it was easier for mom to wash the blood and scabs from the crib sheets than from twin sheets?  Or was it because I had to give up my crib to my baby sister when she was born?  Maybe it was because my dad always held her, but never held me.  Ever.  What’s wrong with me?  How could I ever be a Christian when I know I can’t live up to their standards?  I don’t even want to be like them.  I can’t!  If I were a Christian, I’d want to be like the Brownie leader and the pastor’s wife.  What if there really is a Heaven?  I know I’m not good enough to go there.  I’m selfish, jealous, I’ve stolen things.  I smoke, drink, swear, and don’t always keep my house immaculate.  I’m certainly not qualified to go to Heaven by any stretch of the imagination.  Jesus died for me?  How could He take all my dislike for my family and all these other sins?   But, what if there really is a Hell? Boy, if I think this life is Hell, and I really do, then I don’t want any part of the real Hell.

My thoughts turned into a prayer, Jesus, if You are real, can you take MY sins away?  Philip said You would save me if I asked You.  I can’t stand this life anymore.  I don’t want to go to Hell, because this life is bad enough.  Can I go to Heaven with You?  Please?

Who lit the room up?  Who lifted my heart and made it feel different?  What happened to me?

Just at that moment, Peg came back to the table with two men.  After they sat down, they all just looked at me.

Peg said, “What happened to you?  You look different.”

I said, “I don’t know.  I want to go home now.”

When I got home, Philip was sleeping, so I went to bed feeling enlightened and happy—I mean, deep down happy—fulfilled and different, like the whole world was different.  Plus, there were more wonderful feelings I couldn’t describe if I had to.

In the morning, I got up before Philip did.  I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking my coffee and smoking, and trying to figure out what had happened to me.  I felt so different—better.  No, not just better: exhilarated, free, happy.  Happy on the inside.  Finally happy.  Not like when I got married or had my babies, but a different kind of happiness.  Peace, warmth—all foreign feelings that I never had before were reeling around in my heart.

Philip came in the kitchen, sat down with his cup of coffee, and lit a cigarette.  We didn’t say anything for a while.  Then he said, “Something happened to you last night.  What was it?”

I said, “What do you mean?”

“You look different,” he said.

“I don’t know.  Peg and I went to that nightclub in Saco and as I was looking around and thinking about what you said yesterday, I thought if there really is a Hell then I don’t want to go there.  I’d rather ask Jesus to save me.  Then I think I asked Jesus to save me.”

Philip came over to me, gave me a huge hug, and told me to go in our bedroom and get down on my knees and tell Jesus all my sins because He saved me last night.  I don’t know how long I knelt there, but talking to Jesus and telling him all my sins was like taking rocks off a scale and feeling the weight coming off.  One by one, it seemed like I was getting lighter and lighter.

I heard the kids rumbling in the kitchen that Sunday morning, so I went out to get them off to church.  Skip looked at me kind of funny, but didn’t say anything.  After they left, Philip and I tried to figure out where we should go to church and what we should wear.  I said, “Why not just go where the kids are going?”

He said, “We’ll have to buy new clothes.”

“Well, are we going to church because we love Jesus or what?  If the people at this church don’t like the clothes we have on, then we’ll know it’s not the right church.  We’ll just go somewhere where the people are there to worship Jesus and not each other,” I said.

The next day, Philip and I picked up my friend, Norma, on the way to work.  We chitchatted about nothing in particular on the way.  At break time, Norma and I sat at our usual table with the usual people and ate our lunch.  On the way home, Norma said, “Donna, what happened to you?  You’re so different.”

I said, “That’s what everyone has been saying to me.  What’s so different?”

“For one thing, you look different, and another thing, you haven’t sworn all day.”

I started to tell her how the Lord saved me, but by this time, we were at her house so I couldn’t finish telling her the whole story.  The next day as we were going to work, I tried to tell her how the Lord saved me.  She listened but didn’t say anything.  On the way home, she talked endlessly so as we dropped her off, I asked her if I could come to her house after supper.  On my way over to her house that evening, I was so excited to tell her about Jesus and all that I knew about Him, which wasn’t much.  I was so incredibly happy that I wanted all my friends to know about Jesus too.  When I arrived at her house, we didn’t get very far into our conversation when she said, “There are two things friends don’t talk about, and they are politics and religion.”

I said, “But Norma, I’m not talking about religion, I’m talking about Jesus and what he did for us on the cross.”

She said, “Larry was a chaplain in the Navy and he knows everything I need to know, so if we’re going to stay friends we need to stop this discussion now, okay?”

She made it clear that she thought of me as a hypocrite since I was talking to her about Jesus like I was better than her and I still smoked cigarettes.  That night when I got home, I asked Jesus to take the smoking away from me like He had done with so many of my other sinful habits.

It was Sunday again.  We were looking forward to going to church as a family.  I got my hair fixed “just so”, put my makeup on, and wore my nicest outfit: a blue mini dress.

Well, I guess I look presentable.

Everyone at the church was nice. They didn’t seem to care what I was wearing.  A lot of people shook my hand and said they were glad to see me and hoped I would come back next week!  Wow!  I didn’t fully understand what the pastor was talking about, but it sure sounded good.

Then the pastor came to visit us that week.  He told us to learn the books of the Bible in order first so we could follow along with him when he was preaching, and it would help us as we studied for ourselves.

While attending that church, we grew in the Lord by leaps and bounds.  Even though we couldn’t really afford my quitting my job so I could go to prayer meeting and Sunday night service, the Lord provided for us anyway every step along the way.  What a wonderful Savior I have, and you could have Him too!

The Picture

Susan FitzGerald

I grew up in a wonderful family.  I had two loving parents, a brother, and a sister.  We did not grow up attending church. But I somehow always knew there was a God.  I remember pleading with Him in my times of distress to help me, but that was it.  I grew up with moral teachings, always knowing when I’d done wrong, and I was always fearful when I had done something wrong.  As I grew up, I didn’t follow God’s path.  I made mistakes as a teenager and when I dated, but I always knew I wanted to find a man to marry and have children with someday.  At last, I met my husband.  As I got to know him more, we had discussions about God.  I said to him something to the effect of, “How do we know there really is a God?”

He was sure and said with strong conviction, “There is.”  So I grew more curious and wanted to know more.  His parents went to church, and I wanted to start going too.

After we got married, we had a child.  This child was born six and a half weeks early, and when I had him, I believe God was revealing Himself to me.  Miraculously, my early son was as healthy as could be.  The love from others poured on us in the form of meals for our family, prayers, support, clothes, and even a homemade crib.  An apartment also became available for us around that time.

It wasn’t an easy transition being newly married and having a baby, but a women’s Bible study opened up, and I was able to study a book by Martha Peace called An Excellent Wife and be around godly women older than me.  This was such a blessing and was just what I needed.

The summer after our son was born, I went to my mother-in-law’s house.  My brother-in-law, a missionary then, shared the gospel with me there.  He drew a picture of the cross, of Heaven, and of Hell.  I understood for the first time, at age 23, that I was a sinner and Jesus died on the cross for me.  I prayed that very day for Jesus to forgive me and save me.  That Sunday, my father-in-law let the church know the praise of my salvation.  I felt new inside, but I didn’t fully understand my salvation, though I knew I’d done something good.

It took hearing God’s Word at church, spending time with fellow Christians, Bible studies, and Bible reading to understand my salvation and what God wants me to be like.  This has been a growing process for me, and it always will be.  I still have a lot of growing and learning to do, but I am thankful for being saved and getting to know Jesus more.

Good News

Aaron Perkins

I was only eight years old, and I had been going to Sunday school for a couple of years.  I had always accepted that there was a God, and there was a place called Heaven and a place called Hell, but I don’t remember thinking much about how to arrive at the former or avoid the latter.  I knew I was a sinner because I had an awful temper, even at that age, and I had let it get the better of me a few times.

When I started third grade, our pastor’s wife had a Good News Club two days a week after school.  This only ran for the months of September and October.  Since there was little for the neighborhood kids to do after school, we went there.  Besides, if we went to all the meetings, we would get a Bible as a prize.  About halfway through the club meetings, I realized from the verses being taught that because I was a sinner, I needed a Savior in order to get to Heaven.  The pastor’s wife said that Jesus was God’s Son, and that He had died on the cross to take the punishment for our sins.  Although an invitation was given to talk and pray with her after club was over, I was too shy to come forward.  But, as soon as I got home, I decided to pray.  I told God that I knew I had sinned against Him, and I was sorry.  I said that I knew that Jesus died on the cross for me, and I asked Him to save me.  From that moment on, I knew that I was saved and on my way to Heaven no matter what.

My bad temper didn’t instantly disappear the moment God saved me, but as I matured as a Christian, it gradually dissolved over time.  The biggest difference I felt in my life right away was the security in knowing that God had been gracious enough to save my sinful soul, and I was His forever.

I Remember

Glenna Peare

I remember being part of the Seventh Day Adventist Church as a child.  Our teacher, Mrs. Hall, taught Bible stories in our class of two to four kids.  I remember hearing about David and Goliath and Daniel in the lion’s den, but the most interesting story was the story of Jonah being swallowed by a whale.  I could almost see Jonah in the fish’s belly with a stand and a candle on it.  What was that like?  I had wondered.  I was baptized at twelve years of age because that was what you were supposed to do.

I stopped attending church and didn’t go at all during my teenage years.  However, when my brother and his wife lost a baby to crib death in the 1960’s, I began attending their church with them.  I was going to this same church quite regularly when I met the man who would later become my husband, Bob.

Through the Bible, church, and testimonies of others, including my mother and grandmother, who had been studying the Bible together and had discovered that salvation is through Jesus alone, I knew I needed a personal relationship with God.  Being baptized at twelve didn’t save me!  I remember how the Lord worked in my life to show me that I needed to believe and trust in Jesus.  I realized that God had let His Son die for my sins.  I was a sinner, but God could forgive me, and I could be His child.  In January of 1961, I became a believer.  As soon as I was saved, the strangest thing happened—everyone seemed to change and become so different.  But I knew that nothing had really changed except the state of my soul.  I was now reconciled with God, and I would never be the same because of that fact.

There are many verses that led me to believe on the Lord.  Of course, John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  The verse in Romans that says, “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (3:23). Also, Hebrews 11:6, “But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”  And finally, the verses in John 14 that tell of one of my favorite promises God made to His children, “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.  And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.  Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?  Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

Never Looking Back

Cris-Annette Nicholas

I grew up in a Christian family, attending church regularly, so I was surrounded by God and the church from the very beginning.  I was raised in a Christian home, but as a young child, I believe I did all the right things that Christians were expected to do—I was going through the motions.  I asked Jesus into my heart in Sunday school at the age of eight, but I don’t think I really knew Him, I just knew about Him and I knew that I wanted others to know about Him.  I went on to attend Christian school from sixth grade through twelfth, then continued on to Christian college majoring in Christian Education and Missions.

It was while I was at college that I began to search for the true meaning in my relationship with the Lord versus my relationship with others.  I was looking for approval from other people in my life, not necessarily for salvation’s sake, but for acceptance and self worth. This unfortunately took me down some roads that were paved with less than good intentions, and I became very consumed with what people thought of me and was living for the acceptance of the world.  But by God’s grace and love, He gently beckoned me to return to the right paths.  At my lowest point when I had no one else to turn to, God drew me to Himself.  From growing up in a Christian home, I knew what to do.  I knew that He would save me if I just let Him.  Just like the prodigal son, I confessed my sins to Him, telling Him that I was trying to find meaning in my life through other people.  I acknowledged that Jesus’ gift on the cross, saving me from my sin and giving me eternal life, (John 3:16) meant more to me than trying to live for others or myself, and I recommitted my heart and life to him at the age of 23.

Since knowing Him, God has given me abundant purpose and joy in my life.  I am not perfect, and I still mess up, but God loves me despite my flaws and imperfections.  Even when I feel like I continually let God down, He never leaves me. “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5-6, English Standard Version).  He always shows Himself to me in His Word, the Bible, and I know that He has plans for my life.  “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11, New International Version).

“I know who holds my future, with God things don’t just happen, everything by Him is planned, and as I face tomorrow, with its problems large and small.  I will trust the God of miracles, give to Him my all.”

Miracles

Cheryl Howard

When I was a young girl, probably around seven or eight years old, my family was living near a reformatory in Windham, Maine.  My dad worked there as a guard, but every Sunday they would take me to the Little Falls Baptist Church for Sunday school, and usually for Bible School in the summer.  My parents never stayed at church, but would attend anything special we had going on there.  I remember our pastor as being kind of big and very happy all the time.  His name was Pastor Colby, and I remember he was the pastor at that church and another Baptist church in the city, so he was very busy.  We moved away from that town when I was in sixth grade, so I started going to church with my friend.  Her church just wasn’t the same as what I had been used to, so I stopped going.  My friend had a crush on the minister (who was probably in his sixties at the time), and it just seemed that he was encouraging her.  That really bothered me, so I stopped going to church altogether.

I met my husband, Wayne, at a dance hall, and we got married close to a year later.  We wanted children right away, but now looking back, I think God was working on us, because we still partied and drank and did a lot of “not-so-nice” stuff, so it never happened.  We looked into adoption, and the waiting list was close to two years, so we waited patiently.  After the two years were up, we finally heard from the agency, and they told us we had to prove that we were medically unable to have children.

So we started our long journey to find out what was wrong.  Many, many tests and some pills that might cause multiple births later—nothing happened.  The doctor suggested exploratory surgery.  At this point, I would have done anything for a child.  We weren’t getting any younger and, as they say, my biological clock was ticking.  The doctors discovered adhesions in my tubes from a lot of heavy lifting when I was a teenager working at a boys’ camp for three summers.

We talked with the doctor, and he said he could scrape the adhesions away with another surgery, so we decided to do it.  After the surgery, we received some very disturbing news.  The doctor said that if I wasn’t pregnant within the next six months, I had better just forget about it and try the adoption thing again.  We had already given up on adoption, though, because we didn’t want to wait another two years, and now they were telling us that we couldn’t adopt a newborn because of our age.

Two years later, I discovered I was pregnant!  Praise God!  Little Steven was born.  And then, another miracle thirteen months later.  We had another son, Adam.  It was a total miracle and the doctor even said it was.  The sad thing is that I really knew it was a miracle, but I still wasn’t saved.

Looking back on everything now, I really think that I am a very slow learner, and God never gave up on me.  I really think that God first saved my sons and then had them work on Wayne and me, because we just weren’t getting it.  We watched our two awesome boys attend East Limington Baptist Church, watched how they were maturing in God’s love and how happy they always were.  They got us to go to their baptism and get more involved in this wonderful family church ourselves.  Finally, I asked God into my heart.  I asked Him to please forgive me for all of my sins, and I really was a very bad sinner.  I am so happy now that I’ve put my faith totally in God.  God is always with us, and He surely takes care of us.  As my oldest son (who is now a pastor) said in one of his sermons, we may not be rich money-wise, but we are millionaires as far as having God in our lives forever.

God’s Path

Aaron Cramer

Truly, the plans of man are nothing compared to the paths of God.  I love the verse in Proverbs, “Many plans are in a man’s heart, but the counsel of the Lord will stand” (Proverbs 19:21, New American Standard Bible).  This verse seems to play out in my life over and over again.  As a young Christian and throughout high school, I would not have anticipated that God would lead me into full time ministry.  I love the uncertainty of being in the Lord’s will...uncertainty of where I’ll be in a week, month, year, or ten years; but an awesome certainty of knowing I am in His will and a peace that passes all understanding.  I was raised in a Christian home.  I accepted Christ as a four-year-old in my living room during family devotions.  I still remember that evening.  I even remember the devotional book that convicted me to act and receive Christ into my heart and life.  I don’t remember what the content of the devotion was that night, but regardless, I made the only decision worth eternity that I would ever make on that evening.  I asked my dad how I could be saved like he was.  He told me that all I needed to do was believe that I was a sinner and have faith that God would wash away all my sins because of what Jesus did on the cross and through His resurrection.  I knelt down next to my dad, and he led me to Christ.

While I was growing up, I knew all the “right answers,” but failed to understand why I believed what I believed.  I didn’t understand the issues that set people who knew Christ apart from those who did not.  Finally, at the age of thirteen at a Christian Camp in New Jersey, I rededicated my life to a life of sanctification and daily renewal.  In tenth grade, my friend challenged me to live a life set apart to Christ, and we started an organization called S.A.L.T. (Standing Always for the Lord’s Truth.)  I helped with the leadership of my Christian school and started to be very involved in my youth group and church.  When I was in eleventh grade, I went on a trip to a Christian university and dedicated my life to full time ministry as a result of one of the chapels there.  And when I was a freshman in college, I committed that I would be willing to go full time into missions if the Lord led me in that direction.

God has now led me into full time church ministry, which has taught me to love Jesus even more. The only way I will be effective in bringing others to Christ is by being pliable in His hands—by living Matthew 28:19-20, which in summary shares that we are to “make disciples” and “teach disciples” anywhere and everywhere we go.

The Meaning of Life

Brianna E. Saunders

My name is Brianna Elizabeth Saunders.  I’ve lived in California, Maine Baltimore, Houston, and Ghana, West Africa.  I am the sister of three siblings (a brother, a half-brother, and a half-sister).  I am a student, dancer, performer, and friend, but most of all, I am a child of God.

In 1985, I came into the world as a daughter of two Scientologist parents.  My father had been a member of the Sea Organization in California, an organization for the most dedicated adherents of Scientology, and my mother identified with the religion as well.  We moved to Maine when I was about a year and a half old, and my dad began to teach the Scientologist ideas and practices embedded within Dianetics to my brother and me when we were old enough to understand.  During my third grade year, I began to lose interest in studying Scientology.  The religion held nothing for me, and I saw inconsistencies in my dad’s study of the religion and the way he interacted with others within his religion.

As I entered into high school, questions about the meaning of life began to plague me.  I wasn’t searching for God, per say, but I wanted to know why I existed and what I was here for.  In pursuit of answers, I began to explore different philosophies.  I considered serving others as the meaning of life and gave myself to this endeavor.  After some time, I realized that serving others could not be the meaning of life as it still left me unsatisfied.  I enjoyed myself while I was serving, but deep down, I desired to make more of a lasting impact on the world.  Through serving, I could make an impact for the moment and even for decades to come, but there would come a time when the memory of me would perish forever.  At that moment, my life would cease to make a difference and all of my efforts would be for nothing.  Disheartened, I gave up service as the meaning of life and turned toward the pursuit of pleasure.  If my life was to be insignificant on this earth, then at least I would enjoy the relatively few years I had.  If I wouldn’t be remembered, at least I would have fun.  This pursuit was just as unsatisfying as the first.  As a result, I dedicated myself to my studies and to my dance training (I hoped to become a ballerina one day) and gave up on finding the meaning of life altogether.

During my high school years, my focus became succeeding academically and advancing in my dance training.  I was doing well in life by human standards.  I was competing at the national level in dance and winning awards and scholarships.  Academically, I was doing well, earning mostly A’s in my courses.  I had yet to discover the meaning of life, but I wasn’t searching actively any longer.  Life continued as normal (busy but normal) until one seemingly ordinary day in the high school halls.  On this day, another girl in my sophomore class invited me to her church’s youth group event.  I didn’t have a lot of interest in attending youth group, but I did have an interest in making a new friend, so I told her I’d go.

One Friday evening soon after, I left school bound for my friend’s house.  We were preparing for an overnight youth event called the Superbowl that consisted of a series of activities including roller skating, bowling, and a professional ice hockey game.  We arrived at the church and boarded the bus with other members of her youth group.  We headed towards downtown Portland, Maine and prepared ourselves for a long night of fun and activities.  Our first event of the night was an ice hockey game.  We watched the game along with hundreds of other youth from around the state of Maine.  After the game, a missionary came onto the ice.  I was surprised.  No one had told me that I was going to hear “church stuff” at this event (although I guess I could have assumed that I would, given the nature of the event).  The missionary began to speak, and his words pierced my heart.

“What if you were to leave this place tonight,” he said, “and, God forbid, get hit by a bus and die?  Do you know where you would go?”

I felt fear in the pit of my stomach.  I wasn’t a bad youth, by society’s standards.  I made good grades, loved my family, didn’t drink, and had never experimented with drugs or sex.  I was on track for a successful future, and yet, I knew that even with all of that, I wasn’t good enough to earn Heaven.  As the missionary continued speaking, I began to realize that he was sharing with me the meaning of life that I’d tried so hard to find during my early high school years.  In the pit of my stomach and the depth of my soul, I realized that he was sharing truth with me and that I needed to accept that truth in order to attain the level of significance that my teenage heart knew existed.  He told me that I was a sinner, and I know now from studying Scripture that without faith, I can do nothing of value in God’s sight. His Word says, “But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6, NKJV).  His Word goes on to say that all of the good things that people do to try to earn Heaven are useless. (“But we are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags” Isaiah 64:6, NKJV).  Romans 2:23 says that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”  Just by thinking one bad thought or harboring resentment towards another, I’ve disobeyed God’s laws.  Disobedience deserves punishment, and God’s Word tells us what that punishment is. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23, NIV).  I learned that night that I could be forgiven of my sins if I trusted in Jesus Christ as my Savior.  I must acknowledge, as Isaiah 64:6 says, that all of my “good works” are worthless in the sight of God.  I will never earn Heaven and to try to do so would be ridiculously conceited, but as Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (NIV).  Christ died as the punishment for my sins.  If I accept His death in my place, then I can be brought into a relationship with God and can know for certain that I will be saved from God’s judgment when I die.

I realized that night that the question wasn’t about whether or not I wanted a new religion, but if I would accept the truth that was presented to me that night.  My heart and my soul knew that this was truth, and the realization that my questions of eternal significance were being answered was incredible.  At the Superbowl event, youth who wanted to know more about Jesus were invited to come downstairs to another area to find out more.  I went and received a tract outlining the gospel belief.  After that, the evening continued on without me thinking much more about Jesus or this new faith.  I finished the night out with my new friends and arrived home around six o’clock the next morning.  Exhausted, I threw the tract on my kitchen table and went to bed.

When I awoke later that day, my dad approached me.  He had seen the tract on the kitchen table and wanted to know what I had gotten myself into.  I assured him that I had not signed my soul away to anyone and that I hadn’t even given them my address.  I just wanted to know more about this religion.  My dad didn’t forbid me from finding out more, but he did not encourage me either.  I began to go to my friend’s house after school on Wednesdays so I could go with her family to youth group meetings.  Sometime after, my friend’s parents began picking me up for church on Sunday mornings.  Once I earned my drivers’ license, I began driving myself to church services.  I remember driving home from church one Sunday, praying that I was saved.  It was at that moment that I knew that I was.  Romans 3:11 says that “there is none who seek after God.” Therefore, if I was seeking after God, it must mean that the Holy Spirit was at work in my life, drawing me closer to Him.  God was after my heart, and I am eternally grateful that He was.

It’s been over a decade now since I made the decision to trust in Jesus as my Savior.  The Lord has taken me to some incredible places to spread His Name including Ghana, West Africa; London; and Houston, Texas.  He brought me to Houston nearly five years ago to glorify His name as a member of the Ad Deum Dance Company, and has led me into seminary and a ministry position at my local church since then.  Day by day, the Lord is teaching me more about trusting in Him and choosing His ways instead of my own.  He has led me through numerous apartment and lifestyle changes, and He has shown Himself faithful and good in each one.  The Lord satisfies me daily with His love, and I have complete confidence that when my life on earth is over, I will be with Him in Heaven forever.  I finally have the answer to the missionary’s question from that fateful Superbowl night.  Jesus is the answer to that question and so many more.

The Debt

Marianne Dublado

It is truly difficult to share my testimony because there are so many different facets to the story God knit together for me that I don’t know where to begin!  My prayer is that by reading this, you will look at my life and see how God’s grace and mercy have completely covered me!   Without a relationship with Jesus, life will always have something missing.  Life will never be complete.   This is my story of how Jesus completed my life as soon as He said, “It is finished.”

I was born in the Philippines.  My parents separated when I was four, and I lived with my grandparents until the age of six.  I then immigrated to Houston to live with my mother and my stepfather.  Something unfortunate happened to me when I was young.   I was molested from the age of nine to the age of twelve.  This season turned my life upside down.  Without realizing it, because of this event, I grew up with deep-seeded anger and hatred.  But I covered it up.   For years, I wore a mask of happiness and spent my life trying to prove that my family constellation was normal.   When you are fourteen, you do not want to be different or unique or special.  You want to be normal.  I wore that mask for years.  I wore that mask so well I believed it myself.

I remember asking questions about Jesus as a young child, but no one ever answered them.  So I did research on various religions.  It was then that I realized that God and Jesus existed.  But at that point in my life, I did not know how to pursue anything further.

So I pursued worldly things.

Throughout my adolescence and well into my early twenties, I craved approval and love in different places.  I sought them from everywhere and everyone.  Except from my Creator.  I sought it in alcohol, drugs, and peer pressure, just to name a few.  I had this deluded idea that I created my own destiny.  That I had complete control over my life.

During college, I majored in nursing and was absolutely miserable.  I went to my internship dreading it.  I went to class hating it.  I found myself depressed.  I cursed like a sailor and stung like a bee.  All this was because I was living life according to my will and not the Lord’s.  I had pent up anger so deeply rooted that I did not even know it existed.  Not just anger, but shame, guilt, and low self-worth.

I love to travel and had the opportunity to do a summer internship in Mexico as a last ditch attempt to try to be a nurse.  I figured that if I could like nursing in Mexico, I could like nursing in America.

That trip became a huge turning point in my life.  That is where I came face to face with Katy.  Katy loved Jesus.  I had never met anyone like her.  She was someone who exuded her love for Jesus in everything she did.  A woman who became a nurse to help the needy, not to make the money.  She recommended I read the book Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.  My favorite quote from it is, “Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself.  It is as if they are showing you the way.”   This is what my friend Katy did for me.  Her love for Jesus ignited something in me.

That summer, I returned home a completely different person.   My preceptor in Mexico, Yolanda, had seen how unhappy I was in the nursing field.  Based on my talents and passion for people, she objectively suggested a career in social work.  So I researched social work and became quite intrigued.  Much to the dismay of my family, I dropped out of nursing school, received a Bachelor’s degree in Sociology and immediately applied for graduate school in social work.

Meanwhile, I started going to a Bible study and got to know this man, Jesus.

I was saved in 2007 when I decided to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  I remember the day I was saved, I just accepted the truth about Jesus.  The truth I did not understand for years became so clear to me. There is so much evil in this world because sin came to our lives, and the consequence of that sin is death.  God sent His perfect Son, Jesus, to take care of all of the sins by dying on the cross.  He paid for the debt of our sins with His blood.

Imagine having a debt that would take a long time to pay.  A debt of $1,000,000.  Imagine the person you owed saying, “You don’t have to pay me the $1,000,000.  Consider it wiped clean.”  How would you feel?  That’s what Jesus did for me.  All of the sin that I had accumulated was so much debt, no amount of good works I could do would balance it out.  By asking for forgiveness and asking the Lord to be my Savior, my sins were erased because He paid my debt!  Isn’t that glorious?  I realized that although I grew up with painful circumstances, I was loved.  I was chosen before the foundation of the world.  That’s what He did for me.  That’s what He can do for you.

Despite my decision, it took a while for me to find a church home.  It took a while for me to release control.  It took a while for me to let Jesus rule every second of my life.  But praise God!  He was finally in my life!

My testimony is ever changing.  I am still recovering from my past.  I am still having problems with self-worth.  Nevertheless, the great Gardener is slowly tending the garden of my heart.  The enemy wanted me to believe that Jesus could never save someone like me, but the truth is that Jesus can save anyone, anytime, anyplace, no matter their circumstances.

If you don’t know Jesus, seek Him.  He is running to you.  Only Jesus can complete you.  Only Jesus can heal you.  Isaiah 43:1-5 says, “But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.  I give Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in exchange for you.  Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life.  Fear not, for I am with you’” (ESV).

The Old Brown Car

Valerie Howard

My story began before I was born, or even thought of, for that matter.

My parents started attending church together when they were dating in high school.  They attended the same church when they got engaged, when they got married, and when they had me three years later.  I first attended this church (outside the womb) when I was two weeks old, and I’ve attended almost every Sunday since.  Because of their faith and commitment to God, my parents were an open book about religion and the Bible and Jesus.  I always asked them whatever questions I could think of, and they would always find the answers for me one way or another.

I remember one day, when I was three or four years old, I was riding in our old brown car while my mother was driving.  I talked to her about Heaven and Jesus dying on the cross and I remember burying my face in the crook of my arm to breathe some sort of prayer to God.  I don’t remember the words I whispered, or if I merely thought them, but it’s the first time that I remember praying anything at all.

Looking back on that day now, I don’t think I understood the crucial details of salvation at that age.  I don’t think I understood that I was a sinner who had rebelled against God even as a toddler.  I didn’t realize that every stern “no” I had spoken to my parents was disobedience against God, every tantrum I’d thrown when I hadn’t gotten my own way had earned me the status of “sinner”, and everything I had done out of sheer self-worship had separated me from God as a criminal in His court.

I don’t think I completely grasped the fact then that Jesus Christ was God in the flesh and that He had lived a perfect life before He went to the cross to die in my place.  I’m sure I hadn’t understood that Jesus had been my substitution—that He had borne God’s wrath for every sin I had already committed or would ever commit, and I’m not even sure I knew that He rose from the dead three days after His sin absorption.

I don’t think God saved me on that day in the old brown car when I was too young to be in kindergarten, but I know that gradually during my childhood, I came to believe and understand the good news of the gospel.

Though things were far from perfect in my life thanks to some “mean girl” problems at school and many medical issues (which included being strapped in a hard plastic back brace 23 hours each day for over a year), Jesus began to change me from the inside out.

I remember one day at recess I tried to invent a version of Freeze Tag called “Bible Verse Tag” so my friends would be motivated to memorize some of the Bible verses I had memorized from AWANA.  Another time, we had to make a clay project in third grade art class and I made Jesus’ empty tomb.  My public school art teacher gave me a confused smile when I explained to her what I had created.  I’d invite my friends to AWANA, Vacation Bible School, and youth group activities as much as I could.  In high school, I proudly wore my Christian-themed T-shirts, my “What Would Jesus Do?” bracelet, and carried my car keys on my “Christians aren’t perfect, only forgiven” key ring.  I peppered my bedroom walls with Christian posters and got involved in almost every ministry I could at my church from watching babies in the nursery to singing in the choir and teaching Sunday school.

It’s not because of my taste in T-shirts, bracelets, and extra-curricular activities that I know I trusted Christ at some point while I was growing up.  It’s not because of my old bedroom plastered with colorful posters that I know I’m on my way to Heaven when I leave this world someday.  I may not be able to pinpoint the exact moment (or even the exact year) that I trusted Christ as my Savior from the penalty of my sins, but I know that at some time along the way, that is exactly what I did.

I know because I still trust in Him today.

Not Good Enough

Reverend Tim Duncan

It is my great pleasure to share the good hand of the Lord in my life with you.  My name is Tim Duncan, and I was born and raised in Granite Falls, North Carolina.

I grew up in a home that had been broken by divorce and remarriage.  My mom abandoned us when I was only four years old.  Dad remarried and adopted my stepmother’s child.  Our home was “Christianized” but not Christian.  By that, I mean that Dad and Mom were saved, but because of the stigma and guilt that went with the divorce and remarriage, they did not talk much about faith in the family and only attended church on special occasions, and more for social reasons than spiritual ones, at least in my younger years.

My grandmother, who was my caretaker especially before Dad remarried, read the Scriptures to me and prayed with me when I was at her house.  I knew that God loved everyone and that He loved me.  I understood that there was a place called Heaven and assumed that people who were good went there when they died.  I thought that if I was good enough, I could get to Heaven too.

During that time, a church nearby, Clover Baptist Church became our church home.  At age eleven, I attended Vacation Bible School there.  The pastor preached a message on the last day of V.B.S., and during the message, he reminded us that people who never accept Jesus as their personal Savior will spend eternity in Hell.  I realized that I did not have this relationship he spoke of and that I had never asked Jesus to save me.  The pastor also said that good works are not sufficient to save our souls.  One must be saved by trusting in Jesus alone.  I then realized my need for salvation.  I did not want to end up in Hell for all eternity.  During that Friday evening service, I trusted Christ as my personal Savior.  I went forward at the invitation, and the pastor led me to the Lord.

I was baptized in the river shortly after.  During my teen years, I attended Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Hudson, North Carolina.  It was just a few miles away, and my cousin, Rick, would come and pick me up for youth choir.  I was very active in the choir and youth activities and attended Mt. Zion until I graduated from high school in 1974.

After high school and one year of college, I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, which turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.  One week before leaving for basic training, I met Sonya, the woman who would soon become my wife.  We are still together after 36 years.  Praise the Lord!

I served as a pharmacy technician at the regional hospital on Shaw Air Force Base, Sumter, South Carolina for my entire tour of duty.  While we were at Shaw, the Lord challenged me to give my life in service to Him.  While hearing a message from Isaiah chapter six, I told Him, “Here am I, send me”.  And He did.  We moved to Chattanooga, Tennessee where I attended Tennessee Temple University.  While we were in Bible college, God blessed us with two precious sons, Mark and Matthew.

After four and a half years of good, solid Bible training, the Lord called us back to Sumter, South Carolina where I served as Associate Pastor for four years and was formally ordained.  We were very active in ministry, always seeking the Lord’s blessing and trusting Him to use us as He pleased.

In June 1988, God called us to our first pastorate way up in the mountains of North Carolina.  I served as the pastor of Fellowship Baptist Church in Newland for six years by the grace of God.  We learned much about serving people for God in those mountains, and I thank God for every memory.

In July 1994, the Lord called us to Winston-Salem to the Sedge Garden Baptist Church where I now serve.  In September of 1994, God blessed us with our daughter, Lydia.

I am glad to say that God is still working in our lives.  I am ever learning and hope I never get to the place where I think that I know everything.  It is so exciting to live in the light of God’s will.  He is so faithful to lead and guide us into His plain path.  His will is always the safest place to be.

The Best Decision

Christina Rich

Since my family is not religious, I never went to church or Sunday school as a child.  I knew nothing about God, Jesus or the religion of Christianity.  Sure, I had heard the word “God” before, but it was usually being used in vain.  My parents told me that God created the world.  I never thought about Him more than that. Nothing changed until high school when my sister’s friends invited us to go to an event they simply called “Club”.  I had no idea what it was, but I knew my cousin, Kati, attended and she always said how much fun it was.  Being a freshman in high school, I was very shy around people I didn’t know.  The Young Life Club was a little scary for me at first, but I soon learned to enjoy myself and not worry what people thought of me.  I loved the singing and the funny skits.  It was a night of enjoyment for me and nothing more.

One year later, I still attended Club and loved it even more.  I actually started listening to the brief share about Jesus at the end of every meeting.  I started asking questions about God, and I really wondered what it meant to be a Christian and have a relationship with Christ.  I would think about it after Club for a little while, but then it wouldn’t come to mind until the next week.  It wasn’t until my cousin asked me to go to Young Life camp with her the following year that things really started to change.  The camp sounded like fun, but I didn’t know many people from Club except for my cousin, so I wasn’t really excited about going.  When it came down to the last day to hand in the payment, my cousin pleaded with me to go, and I reluctantly agreed.  Little did I know that it would be the start of a long and difficult challenge for me.

After boarding the bus at the crack of dawn, I sat quietly in my seat observing all the other high schoolers entering through the doors.  I knew no one.  I was painfully shy and didn’t introduce myself to anyone either.  My cousin, being the popular girl she is, went around saying hello as I sat and waited for everyone to be seated.  Upon arriving at camp, I became nervous.  I was very worried that the counselors were going to make me do something I didn’t want to.  But, that didn’t happen. We did many activities and the fun never stopped.  It was very exciting and a lot of fun.  I became good friends with some of the girls in my cabin as well as becoming closer with my cousin.  Our speaker at the club meetings every night talked about God and Jesus.  He told us that Jesus Christ died for us and that He wants a relationship with us.  He told us that we are all sinners; we all do things against God, and Jesus died to forgive us of our sins.  I really started wondering more about God during the week—so much so that I spent the next year searching for answers.

Camp was amazing that summer.  Everything was non-stop fun and excitement.  I had never had an experience like it.  I did so many new things.  It was incredible. Some of my newfound friends dedicated their lives to Christ during the week.  I wasn’t even sure exactly what that meant and I still had a lot of questions.  I left camp that summer with a lot of new friends, new things tried, and mostly, a lot to think about.

Over the course of the following year, I was challenged by several questions.  Who is Jesus really?  Why does He want a relationship with me?  My Young Life leader, Becky, helped me answer a lot of them, and that was a real help to me.  She made things very clear with examples and often gave me Scriptures to look up which helped as well.  I was having problems with family a lot over the year, and that made me want God in my life.  I knew deep down I needed Him as my Young Life leaders had told me.  I knew what I should do, but I was scared.  I felt so empty and so alone.  Some of the time, I didn’t even want to hear about God, because I was mad at Him.  I couldn’t understand why He wasn’t answering my prayers.  Why wasn’t He helping my family or friend problems?  Then it all became clear one day when I talked to my cousin.

She told me that God was listening to my prayers and He would answer them, but He had to do it in His own time.  She told me that He had a plan greater than any plan ever made and He would answer prayers that needed to be answered.  After thinking about that, I believed what she said. I still prayed, but through it all, questions still racked my mind; Why am I here?  Where did God come from?  Why did He make me? Why do I have to be a Christian?  Why is that the only way they say I can live?  Will I go to Hell if I don’t become a Christian?   What about my friends? Are they going to hate me when I don’t do things because I feel God telling me they are wrong?  Will I lose them, their trust—their friendship?  What about my family? Are they going to agree with what I want to do or belittle me for it?

These were only some of the questions that I constantly asked. I struggled to find answers.  As the end of my junior year came around, I became anxious to go to camp again in August.  This year I was bringing my best friend, Jen, with me.  I knew she would have a blast.  I was very excited to go to camp and get away from my life for a while.  Work had become stressful, and family life hadn’t changed much.  I really needed a break.  I wanted to get away, and I was anxious to leave.  Deep down in my heart, before I left for camp, I had a feeling that I would be coming home a changed and better person; and that is exactly what happened.

The night of July 25, 2001, I became a Christian. I gave my life to Christ and asked Him to save me.  I had never felt more at peace than I did that night.  I asked Him to forgive me for all my sins and give me a clean slate to start over.  And He did.

I can honestly say I have never been happier in my whole life than I am with Christ.  I still sin and do things I shouldn’t, but through prayer, I have become stronger in my faith.  The most awesome thing in the world is knowing that I will never lose Christ.  I won’t ever have to say goodbye and He won’t ever let go of my hand.  I am with Him for eternity, and that’s the best place I could be.

It took me a long time to come to know the Lord, but the whole year of questioning was worth it that final night.  I felt no shame, and I wanted Him in my life badly.  I knew that when I was with Him, I would be better.  I wouldn’t ever be alone again.  It was the most awesome experience I have ever gone through.

Young Life has given me so much.  The people I have met have made a huge impact on my life.  I don’t know where I’d be without them.  If I hadn’t gone to camp, I would still be living a life of unhappiness and stress.  Sure, I still have stress and am unhappy at times, but all I need to do is remind myself that Christ is with me, and He has overcome the world. I’m not alone in my struggles.  God knows how I feel and exactly what I’m going through.  I know now that no matter what, it’s going to be okay.  That, in itself, is the best feeling in the world.  I am so lucky to have Young Life as part of my life.  It has been the greatest thing I’ve ever been involved in.  Most of all, it has left a lasting impression in my heart, and that lasting impression is Jesus Christ!

†  †  †

I wrote this testimony when I was in high school in 2001.  It is hard to believe I’ve been a Christian for twelve years already.  Reading over the testimony I wrote all those years ago brings back wonderful memories for me.  I only wish I hadn’t spent all that time questioning God and my Young Life leaders.  It was as if I was looking for a way out of the best thing possible. Seems funny, I know.  In this world, though, there are many things that are too good to be true, so it makes sense why I was skeptical.  I’m here to say though, that God is real, and His Word, the Bible, is one hundred percent truth.   There is no reason to doubt that God will give you life to the fullest if you decide to follow Him.  God doesn’t say that life will be easy, however.  Don’t think that if you asked Jesus to forgive you of your sins you will receive an easy button in your mailbox, because you won’t.  It simply means that you have the absolute best friend in the world to help you through all the struggles you face, holding your hand, or carrying you through.  God has overcome every struggle you will ever face, and if you’re anything like me, you will find great comfort knowing that.

I may have been a Christian for twelve years, but there were periods during those years that I was acting like anything but.  I have turned away from God and put my human curiosity and desires first.  Can you imagine how that turned out?  Let’s just say my struggles increased, and my joys decreased.  But what did God do when I decided to go back to church and follow His ways again?  He used my poor decisions and unwise relationships and turned them into blessings.   A friend of a mine (who I probably should not have befriended) introduced me to my current husband of five years.  Does that make you believe in a greater plan?  It was a great eye-opener for me.

I’m not a saint, far from it, but I’m a believer in every sense of the word.  I believe all things that happen have a reason and we may not ever know why, but someday it will all become clear.

I pray that as you’re reading this book, this message, this testimony, you feel God’s presence and know that He’s standing at the door knocking, waiting for you to invite Him in and share your life with Him.  Trust me, it’s the best decision you’ll ever make.

My Sin

Tammy Ramsdell

Hello.  My name is Tammy, and I will attempt to tell the story of my coming to know Jesus.

My grandmother was probably the driving force behind my brother, my sisters, and me attending Sunday school.  As a matter of fact, it was she who drove us there every Sunday morning throughout my elementary and junior high school years, and gave us all some change for the offering plate.  It was a big, beautiful white church complete with balcony and belfry in a very small town, where you knew almost everyone.  We loved to be the one chosen to ring the bell between the Sunday school hour and the start of church!  Several of my friends attended, and my sisters, my brother, and I received “Perfect Attendance” pins almost every year.  Mom and Dad would attend the church service after Sunday school was done, and I remember sitting with my family in the wooden pews, and singing hymns and listening to the preacher.  Year after year, this was our Sunday ritual.  Mom and Dad were very good friends with several families that attended.  I do not remember a sermon where I was ever confronted with my sin, or the need for someone to atone for that sin in order for me to have a right relationship with God.

When I look back on that period in my life, I believe for many in attendance, church was simply a great social gathering.  I believe many people thought they could please God enough to get into Heaven by just going to church.  They could live their life however they wanted to, as long as they were a “good person”, and that was enough.  I will be fair…I can’t say every teacher at the church thought that way.  I know that later in life, I discovered some of them were great followers of Christ and people I greatly admired for their faith and testimony.

In high school, I started to date a young man (who would become my husband), and I was encouraged by his parents to attend the church where they were members.  This was the East Limington Baptist Church of Limington, Maine.  (Hmmm…I had attended summer Vacation Bible School for several years there while in my elementary schools days.)  I went most every Sunday with them.  Pastor Storey was the pastor, and it was under his teaching that my sin was shown to me; and I realized that with my sin, I would not enter Heaven.  I remember sitting there one Sunday during a sermon (I do not remember the exact day) and realizing, Wow…this is what Jesus is all about.  This is what I should have known from all my previous years in Sunday school!  I asked Jesus to be my Savior and forgive me of my sins.  I was baptized in Limington on my twentieth birthday at Horne Pond and soon after became a member of the East Limington Baptist Church.

That was just the beginning of my walk with Jesus.  It has been a while since then, but as every year goes by, I pray that my life brings glory to God and that I am pleasing in His sight.  I know I am not deserving of this great love of His, but am thankful He is mine, and I am His.  May I be found faithful to the end.  His mercy and grace abounds.

Bible School

Sylvia MacDonald

There was a time when the land was at peace and people started to rebuild.  President Dwight D. Eisenhower provided the stability this country needed, and my grandparents were no exception.  There were times when Gram stepped out the door to help a sick person or clean house for someone.  My toddler and younger years were mostly spent alone at my grandmother’s house in LaGrange, Maine.

I watched my Gram.  She wouldn’t let me do much, so I kept her company, and she taught me many things about “the Lord”, “God”, and our “Heavenly Father”.  She taught a junior class every Sunday morning, so that meant she studied the teacher’s manual all week.  Many, many Saturdays were spent getting ready for Sunday.  Cooking, ironing, curling hair, preparing lessons, and baths—everything was taken seriously.

After I was three years old, I lived with Mother and my stepfather.  There is something deep inside each one of us that tells us when something is missing in our lives.  For me, the something missing was my real father.  My stepfather, try as he may, could not come close to providing for my needs as an individual.  His personality and background was one hundred and eighty degrees different from my own.  I have always been a person of order, decency, words, music, and art.  My younger sisters liked physical activity, showing off, getting dirty, and cared more for fun than making or accomplishing something.  As for Mother, she never had the energy or desire to cultivate any of my interests beyond a Golden Book story and a parakeet.  I talked to myself often, and prayed for the day when I might visit my grandmother.  In those days, children were to answer when spoken to and not interrupt adults.  My family did not take time for devotions with reading God’s Word, or prayer time, or family communication.  I wish my family had asked about school, the bullies who picked on me, or what I wanted to do with my time.  I often felt alone for another reason, as well.  Love and hate travel together, not only on the screen or in books, but also in the family.  The mother who has divorced her husband wants never to see his face again.  Yet, she will see his face in their daughter.  Thus, that daughter is deprived of any close relationship with her mother.

When I reached about twelve years of age, Mother, my stepfather, my two younger sisters, and I all lived in a trailer in a little town called Veazie, not far from the city of Bangor.  A pastor came to the trailer park to ask children to come to summer Bible school.  A cab-covered pickup truck with bench seats came, and about twenty children climbed aboard.

Bible school was just the ticket to get me more interested in the Bible and attending church.  At the end of classes and other activities, everybody assembled again in the main auditorium before going home.  The pastor told the story of salvation.  He made a simple picture of the cross on a hill and a large chasm nearby; only a single path bridged its way over the chasm.  We were told to look to Jesus for salvation because He is the author and finisher of our faith.  He said Hell was real and was to be avoided.  The pastor was ready with Scripture verses like John 8:12, John 14:6, Ephesians 2:8 and 9, and Romans 10:13.  He said we are saved from sin, death, and Hell.  He said Jesus forgives us of our sins and will help us to sin no more.  He told us that the Jesus who died on the cross at Calvary completed the work of taking our place so that some day we may be with Him and have a resurrected body like His.  Hell was meant for Satan and his angels, but anyone who didn’t trust in Jesus for salvation would end up there as well.

When the pastor was finished teaching, he gave an invitation and a good group of us went upstairs to the parsonage part of the church building.  Each child said a prayer accepting the Lord Jesus into his or her heart.  I knew Jesus to be God, and so life with Him was going to be different, especially because my life was so empty before.

Many hours as the oldest and seemingly only child, I often had no one to talk to, or to tell my troubles to.  I was told that prayer is like talking on the telephone, and the Lord was to be faithful to listen and to answer, especially now that I belonged to Him.  If the bullies at school came after me, I had the Lord on my side.  If the devil tried to tempt me, I could call upon the Lord to help me.  Salvation brought me close to God, and my prayer life began at a very young age.  He truly was “a father of the fatherless” to me (Psalm 68:5) as He was often the only one I could turn to.

My sisters and I continued to attend Bible Baptist Church on

Grove Street in Bangor all through our teen years.  Our young people’s group was held at the parsonage/church on Friday nights from 6:00-8:00.  On average, we had about seventeen teens faithfully attend.  A Christian man who was in the Air Force took on the task of leading our group.  Some of us sang in the choir, taught Sunday school to the two and three-year-olds, and assembled pages for new Sunday school books that were written, edited, illustrated, and produced by the pastor’s wife.  A group of about six to eight of us would play instruments at nursing homes once a month on Sunday afternoons for twelve months of the year.

At about nineteen years of age, I went to college at Bob Jones University in Greenville, South Carolina.  It was with a great big sigh of relief that I sat on the plane, looking forward to my studies in art and writing.  I worked on campus and attended classes all week.  It took the stuffing out of me once or twice, but BJU has its own hospital and they know how to get a person back on their feet.  I loved every minute I attended that school, and I am grateful that I was able to attend for as long as I did, but the thing I am most grateful for in my life is the work that Jesus Christ did for me on the cross of Calvary.

Late One Night

Sharon Perkins

Although I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, my mother often brought my sister and me to Sunday school and Vacation Bible School programs.  I grew up having a realization that there was a God, but it didn’t go beyond that.  My father was against anything vaguely religious.

As a teenager, I was babysitting very late one evening.  In fact, it was approaching the wee hours of the morning, and I desperately wanted to be home sleeping.  As I watched out the window, hoping to see the headlights of my employers coming down the road, it seemed like the proverbial watched pot that never boils.

In those days, most television stations ceased broadcasting at one in the morning.  I don’t remember what time it was, but as I switched from station to station to station (there were only three available back then), the only thing I found to watch was a religious program called The 700 Club.  I would never have opted to watch this program if there had been any other choice, but being bored and exhausted, I settled in to hear what they had to say.  I don’t remember much about the topic, but when someone said, “If you have never invited Jesus into your heart and life, you need to do that now.”  What followed was a suggested prayer of salvation.  I felt like I had been hit with a ton of bricks.  I had never heard this before.  I quickly repeated that prayer I had heard, telling God that I knew I was a sinner and that I believed that He sent his only Son to die on the cross to take the penalty of sin that I deserved onto Himself for me.

When I stared out the window this time, I whispered a prayer for the parents of the darling children asleep in their rooms to return home soon.  Just then, the longed-for headlights appeared, and I was on my way home!

Since I didn’t attend a church on a regular basis, I didn’t have an immediate change in lifestyle or behavior. In fact, I had often been described as sort of a “goodie-goodie”, so there wasn’t a great deal of cleaning up to be done (except, of course for the sin-darkened heart condition).  I kind of even forgot about the decision that lonely night.

A couple of years passed, and all of my friends started pairing up with boyfriends, but I never seemed to find anyone that was interested in me.  I was infatuated by a few boys along the way, but they never reciprocated.  There was one nephew of a neighbor that would visit for the summer, but he ended up being pretty bad news, so in retrospect, I see God working behind the scenes in my life even then to protect me from a bad relationship.  I went on a few dates, but didn’t find that one that I was searching for…no one to call a boyfriend.

One night, I earnestly prayed for God to give me a boyfriend.  Not long after that prayer, the school year was coming to an end.  As was the tradition, we all passed around our yearbooks for our friends to sign.  As I was doing just that in my math class, I exchanged yearbooks with a fellow student I barely knew; but I didn’t want to be rude by asking others and not him.  When I got home and read his entry, I was shocked.  It talked about wanting to get to know me better.  My heart started racing as I dreamed of the possibilities here.

To make a long story short, I started hanging around a group of friends that included Aaron, the yearbook signer.  As we started hanging out one-on-one more, he invited me to church by saying, “Last week in Sunday school, we talked about what makes a good husband.  This week we are discussing what makes a good wife.  Would you like to go?”  Of course!  As I began attending his Baptist church, I began to hear the salvation message again.  This time, I really understood the message and once again asked Jesus into my heart and life.

I don’t know when I was really saved—if it was that first time as I was babysitting, or the second time, when I had a better understanding of my sinfulness and God’s grace, but I am thankful that He brought me to Himself in saving faith and as an added bonus, gave me a godly man (who I ended up marrying) in answer to my prayers.

A Funeral and a Friend

Reverend Steve Howard

God must have sought me, because I surely wasn’t seeking Him. When I was a kid, I never went to church.  My parents didn’t bring me, and I never had any desire to go.  Honestly, I didn’t really think about God a whole lot, but I had a friend whose parents attended church.  He used to invite my brother and me to Vacation Bible School, AWANA, Sunday school, and church, and I would go occasionally.  It was more about hanging out with him or getting him to stop asking for a while.  I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t like going when I did.  I remember seeing one of the Vacation Bible School teachers at my friend’s house, and I actually hid on him just so he wouldn’t invite me back the next day.  I didn’t understand what was going on at church and I didn’t want any part of it.  It was all just too boring for me; it’s hard to be interested in something that just doesn’t make sense. Besides, I thought, I am a pretty good kid.  I obey my parents, I’m not robbing any banks or anything, and I am nice to people.  God will surely let me into Heaven anyway, so what else is there to think about?  I thought because I was good, I would have no problem getting into Heaven. After all, Hell is for Hitler and bad people, right?  So I kind of left it at that.

Things started to change for me at age fourteen after my grandmother passed away.  I lost all my other grandparents at a younger age, so this one was different.  I was old enough to understand what was going on, and my view of life and death changed as her death seemed too sudden to me.  I began to wonder, What if I am not good enough for Heaven?  I am not sure exactly why I questioned my goodness at this point, because I still thought I was a good kid.  I guess being confronted with death in a very real way caused me to question some things.

Where would I spend eternity if I were to die?  This question haunted me and kept me up at night.  I didn’t have any peace at all and had a hard time sleeping many times.  How could I know for sure if I was good enough to get into Heaven?  Where could I find answers?  I was curious, but didn’t know who to ask.

Then God showed up.  He had brought my childhood friend back into my life.  (There were a few years when we didn’t see each other much because we were to different schools.)  He invited both my brother and me to AWANA.  This time, I wanted to go.  I was trying to find answers.  Surely, God must have the answers, I thought.  So I went to AWANA.

I did find answers, though I didn’t like what I heard.  The Bible says in Romans 3:23 that all have sinned and fallen short of God’s perfect standard.  I realized I wasn’t good and because of that, I couldn’t get to Heaven by being good.  That’s not what I wanted to hear.  On top of that, this sin stuff gets you a one-way ticket to the Lake of Fire.  Romans 6:23 says, “the wages of sin is death.”  Because we all sin, (we love ourselves more than we love God, we have bad attitudes at times, we think wrong things, etc.) we have earned death, or eternal punishment in the Lake of Fire, which God originally made for Satan and his demons.  I found out that because God is holy and just, He must punish sin (anything that deviates from God’s good character).  I was a rebel, an enemy of God, and I didn’t even know it!  I had been sinning against God my whole life, and I deserved punishment.  Then I found out that there is good news.  The rest of Romans 6:23 says, “But the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”   So I deserved Hell because I am a sinner, but God has given me a gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ.  I learned that Jesus Christ, God Himself, took on perfect humanity, came and lived a perfect life, and died to pay my sin debt.  He took my sin and the punishment I deserved, and gave me His righteousness—His perfection that I never could have attained and now, because of Christ, I am seen as good in the eyes of God.

That’s the greatest news ever!  We deserve punishment, but God has given us a gift.  We can spend eternity in Heaven with Him if we place our trust in Jesus Christ, believing that He is God, that He died on a cross for our sins, and rose from the dead three days later.  On October 20, 1995, God saved my soul.  He can save yours too if you place your trust in Christ.  Don’t wait.  Don’t put it off.

My Journey

Jessica Tanner

My journey of faith in Jesus began when I was a young child.  My family attended church together, and every weekday my parents would send us to Catholic school where we had Bible lessons.  We learned, sang songs, and participated in events with the church we attended.

We were taught good manners, courtesy, and kindness in school.  There was an emphasis on “being good”, but I never remember them teaching that you had to be good so you could earn a spot in Heaven.  Gradually, I learned of Jesus’ death on the cross.  I learned how He had died in my place, taking my sin upon Himself so I didn’t have to do anything but believe in His sacrifice to enter Heaven’s gates one day.  We were expected to go to confession every so often and tell a priest about our sins to get them forgiven, but I eventually recognized this practice as a man-made ritual, and it slipped into my past.

I absorbed a love for Christ from the schoolteachers around me who loved Him.  One of my sweetest memories was when my first grade teacher lovingly gathered me off the bus after a tearful ride.

When I reached junior high age, however, a new public school beckoned me with promises of home economics, gym, and adventure.  I still attended religious classes at the Catholic school on the weekends, but for the most part, my formal religious education had come to an end.  During my sophomore year, at sixteen years old, I met the man who would become my husband.  This began a new road in my journey.  After graduation, we were married in his Baptist church.  Although by now I had broken ties with my Catholic school and church, the One who died for me would still be by my side.  After a bit of social awkwardness because of my leaving Catholicism, we moved and began the search for a new church to attend.  One Sunday, we attended a church where a guest pastor would be speaking.  And, wouldn’t you know, the guest speaker was the pastor that had performed our marriage ceremony!  We had a fine reunion and stayed at that church for twenty-five years.

During my second year at that church, I went through the waters of baptism.  I was baptized as an infant in the Catholic church, but I recognized that I needed to be baptized as a believer in Jesus.  It meant so much more to me now that I understood that baptism was a picture of what Christ had done on the cross, and had nothing to do with saving my soul.

I became a member of that Baptist church, and I continued maturing and serving the Lord through Sunday school, youth group, missions, and other enriching and rewarding service opportunities.

Of course, life is never a simple shift of one smooth passage to another.  We all experience joys and sorrows.  The thing that makes our life journey so much more meaningful is believing and trusting in Christ’s work on the cross and in our unique individual lives.  Unlike faith in any other person or thing, Jesus Christ gives us a true purpose for living, a comfort through trials, and an incredible hope of a future home where we will be with Him forever in Heaven.

I’m always hoping to share the wonderful news of Jesus with anyone, and I hope the story of my personal journey can make a difference in someone else’s life.

A Sinner and a Saint

Cindy Melenric

I was born and raised in Houston.  I’m a middle child between two brothers.  We were a devout Roman Catholic family who were at church for every event and every service.  As a child, I didn’t think much of it.  Church was a part of life’s routine.

I didn’t have a good relationship with my parents. Both of them were very strict and distant.  Being the only girl gave them reason to be harder on me than my brothers.  Punishments started at a very young age and consisted of physical beatings as well as verbal abuse. The older I got, the more severe the punishments became.  It wasn’t uncommon for me to hide in my closet for hours enduring the pain of loneliness and rejection.  Television, and later video games, became my drugs to help cope with pain and gave me a way of escape.

At the same time, I started taking CCE (Catechismus Catholicae Ecclesiaeclasses) classes at church.  I was told that God loved us and would give us anything we asked for.  So, at age thirteen, I decided to try it.  I had hit puberty and as the result of it felt ugly with crooked legs and crooked teeth.  At school, the kids made fun of me about my looks, calling me names.  So I prayed and asked God to make me prettier and shorter.  When I woke up the next day, I ran to the mirror, and to my dismay, nothing had changed.  I checked the next day, and the next, and each day after that, but still—nothing.  As the weeks went by, it was apparent that God was not going to answer my prayers.  As the abuse continued at home, I somehow reasoned that I was not worthwhile to anyone.  I went to my room one day, shut the door, and looked at myself in that mirror.  I burned with anger towards God and shouted every curse word I knew to His face.  I told Him that I hated Him, and I would never follow Him. When I would get out of high school, I’d quit going to church, I told Him, and besides, I was only attending now because my parents forced me to. As the tears streamed down my face, these words came into my mind, “Before you leave home, you will meet me face to face.”  I shrugged it off, not knowing where the strange thought came from.

From that moment on, I was determined to rebel against all adult authority.  I became a very angry and hateful person. With every smart-mouth remark came an increase in beatings.  With every punishment, came revenge.  Once I had watched a movie about a kid who hated his parents, and he burned his house down. I thought, I could do that.  So one night, I stayed up late soaking gasoline on the carpet in my parents bedroom. I took newspapers and laid them around their bed.  I poured gasoline all over the doorway.  I lit a match, dropped it into the carpet, and ran out of the room to avoid the explosion.  But, nothing happened. I went back and looked at the match.  It was as if it had not been lit at all.  I struck another one, this time placing the match into the gasoline-soaked area.  The match went out.  I went to my room to think about this. That was when I felt like God was saying, “I will not let you go through with this.”

Anger arose inside of me, and I replied, “Over my dead body!”  When I turned around, the lights were on in the hallway.  My parents had woken up.  I jumped in my bed and pretended to be asleep.  My parents opened the door, and I held my breath, but they quietly left the room.  Knowing my plans had failed, I bitterly cried myself to sleep.  The next day, my parents were gone to work, and their room was cleaned out.  I went to school fearing the worst.  To my surprise, nothing was said to me that evening, or any day after that.  At first, I thought they did not know who did it. But, when school let out shortly after that for the summer, my parents announced I would spend my entire vacation at a psych office.  For the next six weeks, I stubbornly refused to talk with any shrink.  My mom finally pulled me out threatening to send me to a girls’ home. I waited for that day, but with each threat, she ended up backing down at the last minute.

Upon returning to school, I rebelled against all my teachers, got into frequent trouble, and nearly flunked out.  I experimented with porn, witchcraft, smoking, theft, and everything else I could think of to get back at my parents and to get back at God.

In the midst of my rebellion, God reached down bringing people into my life to witness to me. On one occasion, while I was on the school bus, there was a man standing on the corner of the school lot handing out little orange books. The kids called out for some, and our driver grabbed a bunch.  The books made their way toward the back, and I grabbed one.  I looked down at it, and to my surprise, it was a little Gideon Bible.  I was about to pass it back when I felt drawn to open it.  I opened the back cover, read “God loves you”, and saw John 3:16.  I angrily shut the Bible thinking, What do they know?  But, strangely, I held that Bible in my hands the whole ride home.  Again, I felt drawn to open it, but this time I opened the front.  I noticed verses printed in another language.  I kept flipping through the pages curious to what the English version was.  And to my surprise, the verse was John 3:16 again!  I angrily shut the Bible again feeling intruded upon.  When I got home, I stuffed the Bible in my closet and forgot about it.

Another incident that happened was during my last year of CCE.  As I walked in the first class, the teachers announced they were “born again” Christians and were excited about teaching us to draw closer to God.  My eyes widened at the thought of enduring another long year with them.  One day they paired us up with prayer partners, and having an odd number of students, I was the odd one out.  My teacher came over to me and asked if she could pray for me.  I declined quickly saying I needed nothing.  She kept persisting, asking about my home life.  I shook my head. Then she said, “What about at school? Is there anything there you need help with?”

I was about to tell her off when I thought of the word “friends”.  I crossed my arms and spouted back, “Okay, I’d like to have friends.”  I just knew I had her on this one.

I watched her countenance fall as she leaned back.  Then she took my hand and said, “I think God can help you with this.”  She bowed her head and gently prayed for me to meet godly friends.  I sat in silence, too amazed to react. She finished with a smile.  In the next several days, I did make new friends, and one of them was a Catholic like me.

Over the next two years, things began to change.  My friendships flourished, my grades improved, and the beatings ceased.  In my senior year, I actually made the honor roll.  Prom night quickly approached, and without a date, I decided not to attend. My mother felt sorry for me and said I could invite someone to spend the night for that same weekend.  My Catholic friend (we’ll call her Mary) eagerly accepted.

Mary and I spent the day together talking about everything teenage girls talk about.  That evening as we settled down for the night, our conversation turned deeper. The subject of God came up, which brought out my insults.  Mary questioned, “Don’t you love God?”  My prompt response was I hated God and had nothing to do with Him.  She challenged me in my thinking.  Since there is a God, she reasoned, He must love me. She dared me to ask Him to prove it.  I sarcastically agreed and prayed, “Okay, God, if You love me, then help me dream of Bruce Boxleitner (a favorite actor of mine) tonight.”  My thinking was that God didn’t even hear us when we pray, nevertheless control our dreams. I lay down and went to sleep. The next morning, I got woken up by a strange “presence” in my room. I flipped my head over quickly to see who it was, but no one was there. My eyes drifted up to the ceiling to the source and just knew that God had come to call. Panicking, I tried to holler out to Mary when suddenly I remembered the dream I just had. It was a vivid dream of that TV Star I asked for.  I popped up in my bed and screamed at the top of my lungs. Mary jumped out of bed asking what was wrong.  I explained everything to her.

She then replied, “What are you going to do about it?”

I yelled, “Nothing! I’ll never pray again!” I remained silent the rest of the weekend.

For months after that, my Catholic friend asked me to attend her Friday night Bible study.  I thought about going, but with busyness of life, and other circumstances, I graciously declined.  I graduated high school and moved on to a business school.

One day after school, I was involved in a car accident.  With a neck injury and a broken heart, I called my Catholic friend only to hear her say, “Let me pray for you”.  My mouth dropped open listening to her cry out to God on my behalf over the phone.  She then challenged me to read my Bible, one chapter a day, starting with Matthew (in a children’s Bible). Well, I actually obeyed her. Within just a few days, I was in chapter five.  I read, “Under the laws of Moses the rule was, ‘If you kill, you must die.’ But I have added to that rule, and tell you that if you are only angry, even in your own home, you are in danger of judgment...And if you curse him, you are in danger of the fires of Hell.” (The Living New Testament, Matthew 5:21-22).  My first thought was what I had done to my parents. Was I guilty of murder even though I didn’t go through with it?  I continued reading but did not understand anything.  For several days, I couldn’t focus on what the Scripture was saying.  Discouraged, I flipped further into the Bible until I noticed a verse underlined in it.  I saw that this Bible had some sort of question game in it. I found question one and read, “To understand God’s love, you must understand what you have done.  Go to First John 1:10”.   I flipped to First John 1:10, which said, “If we claim we have not sinned, we are lying and calling God a liar, for He says we have sinned” (TLNT).  My first thought was if we are all sinners, then I’m not any different. Then I read question two, “Does God in love just forget about our sin? See Romans 2:11”.  That verse said, “For God treats everyone the same. He will punish sin wherever it is found” (TLNT).

Right then the Holy Spirit assured me that my parents were guilty for what they did, but I was guilty for what I did.  Well, I freaked out.  Remember, I had just read in Matthew chapter five about the fires of Hell.  I was convinced I was guilty of murder.  Not only did I think about it, but I had attempted it.  I went to bed terrified that night, having visions of the fire that I almost started—visions of that fire burning down my house and consuming me.

For the next several days, I feared that God was going to take my life.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Going to church that Sunday was even more frightening since I knew God was there. I stared around the sanctuary jumping at every move.  On the ride home though, I was confused.  I didn’t understand why God would not just get it over with and end my life already.

This went on for weeks.  I avoided my Catholic friend if it was at all possible.  Eventually, she caught on and asked what was wrong. “Nothing,” I replied, not having the guts to tell her.

Finally, one day, I drove myself over to her house.  I poured my heart out to her explaining everything including thinking that God wanted to kill me.  She replied all I had to do was ask for His forgiveness.  I paused and thought, That sounds too simple.

The next thing I knew, I was riding to her Bible study, at a Lakewood Church cell group across town. This was no ordinary group. They were every bit charismatic, spirit filled, and Pentecostal.  It was more than I could bear.  The worship was overwhelming.  These people really loved Jesus, and I felt so unworthy to be there.  What got me was the way they worshipped to the song “Amazing Grace”.  (I had thought that was a Catholic song.)  Right then the veil was lifted, and I saw the spiritual meaning behind the song.  I knew I needed Jesus as my Savior.

With Bible study ending without a profession of faith from me, I got back into the car for the long ride home. As soon as we left, the warfare began.  I heard voices, saw scary visions, and felt an uprising of confusion, hatred, and fear inside.  The voices stated things like, “This doesn’t sound right; you can pray later; Mary will never be your friend again”.  I believed them all until I heard this one: “Why don’t you fake it?  Why don’t you pretend to pray?  You know how to act.”  Now, there was one thing I learned about God through all this: you can’t lie to Him.  I would rather have told God "no" than fake a prayer.  I knew then I needed help.  I closed my eyes and prayed, “God help me.”  That was all it took.  God moved inside of me causing me to faint.  When I came to (only in a matter of minutes), all the confusion, fear, hatred, and terror were gone.  I accepted the Lord right there, hardly able to pray the words.  I felt every bit of the cleansing hand of God in me.

What the enemy meant for harm in my life, God really did use for good, to draw me to Himself.  “O Lord, remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways.  According to Your love remember me, for You are so good” (Psalm 25:7 NIV).  Amen.

In Christ Alone

Greg Murray

I was born and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina.  I have one older brother and one younger brother.  We lived in a totally non-Christian home.  My parents were both alcoholics, so at nineteen, I left, took my sixteen-year-old brother with me, and raised him to adulthood.

Thanks to my mother’s mother, I had some knowledge of the Bible, but it was more like a storybook and not reality to me.  God and Heaven were not real in my opinion, but I had no trouble expecting Hell when I died.

I married a young lady of nineteen when I was twenty-two.  We had a good marriage, but we did not go to church.  Once she got pregnant, we just felt like we had better go to church.  This wasn’t for any spiritual reason, it was just a feeling we had.  Something about a new baby made us feel like church was the place to be at that time.  Church was something we suffered through…for the baby!

One Sunday, a new couple came to the church.  They were talking about this “personal relationship” with Jesus.  They knew that they were going to Heaven!  They shared the gospel with me on a personal basis and explained that one is saved by faith in what Jesus did at the cross.  They did not use smooth talk in order to witness, but simply took me to the Scriptures.  I saw that my salvation was in Jesus alone, and not in regulations or obedience to man.  I placed my faith in Jesus and nothing else.  I finally realized it was not about amassing great faith, but it was about the object of the faith: Christ and Christ alone.

My wife got saved about the same time with the same message from a different source.  This physical life was still a challenge, but now there was a peace in my life that could only come from Jesus my Lord and Savior.  I am also privileged to see the effects of my salvation in my daughter and in her children as they, too, have placed their faith in Christ alone.

Simply Faith

Donna Sue Murray

Shortly before her death from cancer at age 57, Donna dictated her salvation testimony to a friend.

Here is her testimony in her own words.

Greg and I had been going to church for a couple of years and were involved in various activities, yet neither Greg nor I were born again believers.  We just went to church because we thought that attending church was the right thing to do.  We showed up every Sunday morning, were involved in Sunday school, and made friends.  Somehow, I knew that something was not quite right.  One day, my pastor’s wife invited me to go with her to Christian Women’s Club.  I listened to the testimony of the speaker that day, and it seemed as though this woman’s life and mine were remarkably similar.  Because she attended church and did all the right things, she thought that eventually, somehow, she would be “saved” and earn her place in Heaven.  I realized that was exactly how I had been feeling.  At the end of her testimony, the lady told the audience what a person needed to do to be saved:  trust only in Jesus and receive Christ as your Savior.  I did just that, that very day.  I could hardly believe how simple it was.  I wanted to shake my pastor’s wife and say, “Why haven’t you told me this already?  This is so simple!”  In all the sermons I had ever heard, the preacher would preach eloquent sermons about how to be a good, moral person.  I knew that I wasn’t a bad person.  I thought I was doing pretty well until this woman at the Christian Women’s Club meeting helped me to realize that I was a sinner.  That we are all sinners.   “As it is written, there is none righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10).  That there was a penalty for sin, but that God would forgive our sin if we confess it. “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6:23).  I was actually relieved to hear the simplicity of the gospel message.  “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

That is when I was saved—when I became a born again believer.  When I returned home, I told Greg what I had learned.  Within a couple of weeks, he was saved, too.  It was nice that we were both saved at about the same time.  It was an exciting event in our lives.

Farmer John

Brenda

Until the age of eight years old, I did not know the Lord.

One of my older brothers, Jim, used to hang out and sometimes do work at a farm near where we lived.  The man who owned the farm, John, was a Sunday school teacher and a deacon at the First Baptist church in Waterville, Maine.

One day, John asked my brother if he would like to go to Sunday school.  He said that he would provide the transportation if any of his brothers and sisters wanted to go also.

My oldest brother and my youngest brother didn’t want to go, but my brother Jim, my sister Sharon, and I did.  So the three of us went to Sunday school and stayed to attend the church service as well.

Even though we didn’t go to church as a family, my parents never minded us attending.  For one thing, my father was never really a father to us.  He had no interest in any of us.  He was an alcoholic and womanizer, but I never knew that until I was in my teens.  He just wasn’t home very much, so my mother was the one who raised us.  As for my mother, I hate to say this, but Mom didn’t take an interest in what we did or where we went.  Going to a friend’s to play?  Okay.  Going to a special event at school?  Okay.  Going to church?  Okay. To her, church was just something else we did, and she neither encouraged it nor said anything against it.

Over the next couple of years of attending church, I learned about the wonderful love of Jesus Christ.  I learned that He died on the cross for our sins, and then rose again.  It didn’t take long for me to believe in this wonderful Jesus who loved us so much

Yes, I knew He was my Savior.

Jim and Sharon believed in Jesus and accepted Him as their Savior just as I had, and about eighteen months later, John asked us about being baptized.  I was almost ten, Sharon was eleven, and Jim thirteen.  Yes, indeed, that was what we wanted, and that was okay with Mom, too.  The three of us were baptized in the pool of water that was underneath the pulpit in the church.

Before the farmer introduced me to the concept, I did not know anything about God, church, or Heaven.  I am so grateful to the man that was used by God to open my eyes and my heart to the Lord Jesus Christ.  I thank God every day for drawing me to Himself in saving faith.

The Bargain

Adam Wescott

As a child, my family bounced around from church to church and “tried” different denominations.  We would attend church for a few months and stop for a year or two.  I prayed to receive Christ as my Lord and Savior in a first grade classroom at my Christian school.  However, the intermittent pattern of church attendance continued until I graduated from high school.

I got married at the ripe old age of twenty and my wife, Beth, and I had our first child several months later.  My wife had gone to the same church since she was a little girl, and she continued to go faithfully with my infant son.  I did not go with her that often, but over the years, I started to attend church more and more.  After hearing so many sermons, the Lord started to “sneak up on me” and my heart began to change.  I stopped listening to heavy metal music and drinking alcohol.  I started to clean up my language, my attitude began to change, and I started to think of others, not just myself.

I had worked in retail for several years and had finally made it “to the top” and became the General Manager of the store I worked in.  I finally made it!  I reached the goal that I set for myself six years before, which was to run my own store.  I was making good money, wrote my own schedule, and delegated most of the work to others.  I realized, though, that I absolutely hated my job.  The stress was unbearable; I did not want to go to work at all, and I stopped caring about the store and my employees.

One night after working over twelve hours, as I was driving out of the parking lot, I was in tears and felt completely lost and alone.  I made a bargain with God; at least I thought I did.  I said, “God, if you get me out of this, I will serve you.”  I told Him that I was not sure if I was really saved or not, but I trusted Jesus as my Lord and Savior right there in the car.

I called a friend of mine who had left the company and asked him if I could use him as a reference.  He told me to send him my resume as his company was hiring.  After sending the resume, completing a job application, and two interviews, I had a new job.  I hadn’t applied for a job anywhere else and hadn’t really started a job search yet.

My new job gave me fixed hours, weekends off, good benefits, and relieved the stress I was under.  It also freed me up to serve the Lord as I told Him I would.  When I look back at all of this, I think to myself, “God, only You could have done this the way You did.”

Grace Notes

Diane Wilcox

I was born and raised in a Christian family in a small town in Aroostook County, Maine called Perham.  My dad was a believer and so was my mom.  They each came from a Christian family as well.  My mom was the first saved in her family, and others came to know the Lord as time went by.  Both of my grandparents on each side were strong believers and lived it daily.

My two godly grandmothers were a big influence in my life, along with my parents.  We shared the same yard with my dad’s parents, so my grandmother and I spent a lot of time together.  She taught me many Bible verses and lots of songs.  There was always someone singing or playing the piano around the house.  My parents were praying people.  Many times I would see them at night on their knees beside their bed praying for their children.

I am the oldest of seven, and I don’t ever remember our family not going to church and being involved in both services on Sunday and in Sunday school.  The church we attended was Perham Baptist Church, and the gospel was sung and taught there every week.  I always enjoyed going to church, singing, and being a part of God’s people.  Of course, that was also about the only social outlet we had, so making friends and seeing them each week was exciting for me.

Our pastor and his wife didn’t have any children, but they loved kids.  So every Sunday night, he would draw all the kids up on the platform to sing some little songs or choruses.  Every once in a while, I would not want to go up in front of the congregation because of being self-conscience, and I would sink into the pew so the pastor wouldn’t see me.  My dad would notice me hiding and make me go up with the others.  Of course, that just made it worse.

I never questioned what I learned and was taught from God’s Word.  I believed and accepted it as fact.   Growing up, I thought I was a Christian.  I loved God and enjoyed listening to Bible stories.  Maybe I even asked Christ into my life when I was younger, I don’t remember.  I do remember that any time I heard about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins, being buried and rising from the dead, I believed that it included me.

There was a Christian camp located in Mapleton, Maine that our church was a part of and supported, so during the summer of 1958, I attended for a week.  Missionaries were there for the week, and there would be a session with them, craft time, activity time and rest time.  Then every evening, there was a church service with lots of singing, learning new songs, special music, and then the message from God’s Word.  There was always an outside speaker for the week who gave the messages.  That week, the speaker was a chalk artist and a singer.  His message was about how God loved us and sent His Son to be born into the world to teach people about His Father’s love.  It was about how God wanted sinners (which every one of us were) to come to an understanding of His love and believe He died for them.  He told us that our sin fell on Christ at the cross and was buried in the deepest sea, never to be remembered again.  When the speaker gave the invitation, he said for anyone who felt the Holy Spirit speaking to them, who knew they were a sinner and wanted to receive this gift of salvation, to come forward.  So I did.  It was a joyous and lighthearted time, knowing that Jesus was my Savior and friend and He would always go with me and before me.

In January of 1959, I was baptized in The First Baptist Church in Washburn.  There were many adults in my home church who were a big encouragement to us young people—encouraging us to take part in different services, mostly the Sunday evening services.  The organist and choir director was always coming up with a song for me to sing or teaching me how to sing alto.  I started singing in the choir when I was in the seventh grade.

As I got older and started high school, I wanted to attend some of the school’s activities, but I wasn’t allowed, partly because of the distance and partly because my parents didn’t approve of some of the activities.  I became rebellious at times, thinking my parents were old fashioned, but God kept the things I had been taught about Him, and the respect I had for my parents and grandparents to protect me from straying too far from Him.  I am so thankful to God for that.  I could have adopted any habit out there so easily, chosen wrong friends, and gotten mixed up in all kinds of trouble.  I just praise God for His protection.

I became interested in a classmate of mine the summer between our sophomore and junior year in high school.  We started dating, and after his junior year in college, we married.  We have served the Lord together ever since.  It has been exciting to see how faithful God has been to us.  He has led and directed in our lives all through our married life.  I am so grateful He provided me with a godly, loving husband and best friend.

I am so thankful for God’s gift of salvation to me.  I certainly didn’t do anything to deserve God’s love; it was strictly God calling me out of sin and placing my feet on the right path.  I love the verses of Ephesians 2:8-9, “For by grace are you saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast.”  That is such a great verse because no one can come to God based on who they are, how good they have been, or what they have done.  It is all God!  Praise Him for that.

My Savior

Kay

I was taught to believe in God and to obey the Ten Commandments from an early age.  A certain level of moral behavior was expected in my family, in my school, and in our small community in general.  My grandmother was a Christian, and I attended church and Sunday school as a child.  I saw other people get saved at special evangelistic meetings, or during the altar calls at church, and I often wanted to come forward as they had, but I never took the step to do so.  I had a false sense of security because I had obeyed God’s rules for the most part, and I knew right from wrong.

My childhood came and went without me making any personal commitment to Christ.  I grew up, got married, and moved into a new community with my husband and baby girl.

One evening, my husband’s co-worker invited the two of us to a Bible study at their home.  The discussion worked around to our religious backgrounds and upbringings.  During the Bible study, the conversation lead to our need for a personal Savior.  Some verses that were quoted that night were Romans 5:8-9, “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.  Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him.”

I had heard these Bible verses before as a child in Sunday school and church, but I had never given any thought to the fact that they were meant for me personally.  Even though I knew about the plan of salvation, I did not know the Savior who died on the cross and paid the penalty for my sins as First Corinthians 15:3-4 says, “For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.”

The verses that were spoken of and read during the Bible study stayed with me for the next day and even into the night.  Especially John 3:16, which states, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Around two o’clock in the morning, after getting up to care for my infant daughter and placing her into the crib, I sat in the nearby rocking chair.  I bowed my head and heart before the Lord Jesus Christ, confessing my sins to Him and asking Him to be my Savior.

“But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name” (John 1:12).

Forgiven

Patti Cote

I believe in and love my Lord with all of my heart.  He has brought me through so many trials, and I know I have Him in my life.

I did not grow up in a Christian home.  My mom had been raised by a Catholic family who she had been given to.  She eventually met and married my dad.  He ended up not being there a lot for her—theirs was a tremulous relationship.

My dad’s mother gave me my most of my religious training, which was Catholic in nature.  But one day, a wonderful woman by the name of Lucy introduced me to a Baptist church in Westbrook, Maine.  This is where I received Christ, where I learned that He was who I could directly come to, and that I didn’t need a priest to hear my confessions.  I was thirteen and at a very crucial time in my life when I accepted Christ as my Savior at this church.  I learned what Jesus went through to save me—how He died such a cruel death on the cross, taking my sins upon Himself.  How He rose from the dead to become my living Savior.  And how, upon accepting all of this by faith, I was assured a heavenly home forever with Him.  This was truly the most wonderful gift that I would ever receive in my lifetime!

When I was almost sixteen, we moved to the town of Standish with my mother’s mother, who was attending a Baptist church.  My mom started attending church with my brothers and sister.  It was there that each of them also came to know my Lord.  My mom’s newfound faith never wavered during her lifetime, and she made sure that we stayed grounded until she died.   I became a member of the Baptist church when I was sixteen, and the people there made me feel that I’ve always been a welcome part of the family of Christ, and no matter how things changed during the years, this feeling never left me.

I know that I gave my heart totally to Christ at the age of thirteen, but as often happens, the world got in my way.  During a short period in my life, I did go back to my Catholic roots, but always felt that something was missing.   I made many bad judgments over many years, but He was always there to pick me up and move me on.  I’ve often questioned Him, often gotten discouraged with Him, and have turned my back on Him, but He stayed with me at all times.  God gave me the answers that I desperately needed, and brought me back to my true faith, thereby saving my life from the sin and confusion, hurt and desperation that robbed my life of meaning.  He taught me a new life and gave me a new beginning.  It is through this faith in Him that I healed and was able to serve others as I believe He intended.  He has taught me many lessons in this life and has enabled me to feel true compassion for others.  For this, I am ever grateful.

Once I forgave myself for my past, God opened my eyes, and now I have a very purposeful life, and I am able to use all of my experiences to understand and help others to go where they need to go in life.  He has helped me to use my wayward actions for the purpose of helping others, no matter what their differences are.  I am truly blessed and am eternally grateful for my wonderful Lord.

Safe and Secure

Heather Ronk

My parents loved me very much and because of their love for me, they taught me the most important thing I could ever learn.  This most important thing was that God loved me.  Jesus, God’s Son, loved me so much that He died for me and paid the price for my sins.  If I believed that Jesus died and rose again, I didn’t have to be separated from God, but could live in Heaven with Him forever.  As the Bible says in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (ESV).

At the age of six, I understood that separation from God forever was to live in Hell—a real place full of torment, fire, pain, and sorrow.  This was very scary for me.  I remember my older sister crying one night as we lay in our beds.  She was crying because she was afraid that I had never believed in Jesus and that I would spend forever in Hell.  This made me cry too!  We ran into the living room to where my parents were and told them our fears.  I remember kneeling down in front of my Dad’s chair while he asked me some very important questions: Did I know I was a sinner in God’s eyes? Did I know the punishment for that sin? Did I know Jesus died for me, was buried, and rose again three days later?  Did I know that by believing in Jesus’ death and resurrection I could live with Him forever? Did I know that Jesus is the only way to Heaven?

I was ready to believe that night.  God already loved me, and now because I believed in Jesus, He saved me from Hell!  I knew then, and still know today, that when I die I will live forever in Heaven with Him.

Even when doubts come, even when I mess up, fail, and sin again, I know that my future is secure. How?  John 10:27-30 says, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.  My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.  I and the Father are one” (ESV).

I love to explain to children why I am certain that my salvation is secured forever.  I  wear a wedding ring to signify my lifelong commitment to my husband.  I take off my ring and place it in my left hand.  That ring now signifies my life commitment to the Lord.  My left hand signifies Jesus’ hand.  I wrap my hand around the ring—His protection for me. It’s already hard (nearly impossible) for a child to open my hand.  Then I place my right hand around my other hand tightly.  This hand signifies God’s hand.  Now there is really no way to get to the ring.  I am safe, secure in Him…forever.  Jesus and the Father, God, are one.  Jesus is God!  He has saved me, will keep me in His protection, and will bring me to Heaven someday.  This is my confidence, and the Bible gives us the hope we need.  I believe it!

God’s love is true and real and forever, too.  God is love.  He loves everyone—including you!  He’s done His part, all we have to do is believe!  “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39, ESV).

New Life

Christopher L. Ronk

I was born (at an early age) to a very God honoring, Christian family.  It was at my family’s small country church at the age of seven that I heard a message on the reality of Hell.  Verses such as Revelation 20:15 and John 3:18 were spoken of during that message: “And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.”  “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God” (ESV).

I knew I had never believed in Jesus’ name. I was too scared to say anything to anyone that evening at church, but it soon became apparent that I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I had found an answer to my fears.  As my parents came into the bedroom that night, they found me crying and obviously shaken.  They, of course, wanted to know what was wrong and gently began to talk with me.  As I told them of my fears, they shared with me the simple truth of the gospel.  They explained that Christ had already paid for my sins; He died on the cross in my place, and rose again on the third day.  I believed the truth that night and received Christ as my Savior.

These verses are my comfort in my salvation: Romans 10:9, which states, “Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (ESV). And First John 5:13, “These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life, and that you may continue to believe in the name of the Son of God” (ESV).

I began my new life sincerely trying to live for the Lord, at least for the next several years.  However, around the age of twelve, I began to consider the approval of others to be more valuable than the approval of the One who had redeemed me.  That downward spiral continued for nearly ten years, leading to various forms of rebellion towards God, my parents, and anyone else who had my best interest at heart.  Fortunately, those I ran from never gave up on me, no matter how badly I behaved.

In college, around the age of 22, an old friend decided to invite me to a Bible study in his dorm.  He knew of my lifestyle, and was hesitant about approaching me.  What he didn’t know, however, was that God had been slowly breaking my heart regarding the life that I was living and the emptiness that awaited me at the end of every day.  I began attending the Bible study, driving home to my family’s church on Sundays, and eventually began talking openly with those that had been so faithful to God over the years.  It wasn’t long before my home church had me leading the youth program and working closely with my pastor. I was challenged by the example of Apostle Paul to live out my new commitment to God in a way that would set a good pattern for those young people who were looking on.  “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (I Corinthians 11:1, ESV).  “In all things showing yourself to be a pattern of good works” (Titus 2:7, ESV).

We are created in God’s image to please Him.  It is my heart’s prayer that God will be pleased in my life here on earth until I live with Him in Heaven for eternity!

A Faith of My Own

Jeanine Webb

I was raised in a Christian home.  We always went to church each week, including Sunday school, and I attended Vacation Bible School and church camp each year.  However, my church denomination did not greatly emphasize the gospel or the need to ask (pray) to be saved.  The weekly “invitation” in the Sunday morning worship service was an invitation to join the church because the leadership just assumed you were a Christian already.

However, God put in my heart a love for the Bible as a young child.  I was eager to learn Bible stories, easily remembered Bible verses, and loved singing hymns and other songs of praise. I cannot remember when I asked Jesus to save me.  I probably didn’t even say an audible prayer, as I was never taught to do so. Like I said, I was raised in a denomination that did not teach a “prayer for salvation” or a “moment of salvation”. I know there must have been a moment in my life as a young child when I truly understood, at my age appropriate level of understanding, and believed on my own and for myself.  I truly believed that Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sin, was buried, and three days later was resurrected!  At that moment, it was no longer just faith in what my Sunday school teachers and parents taught me; it was my own faith.  And then I was saved.  I know this all must have happened in my heart, I just don’t know when that was.  But what I do know is that at some point, I was born again and converted.  And because of my simple faith, I will have everlasting life in Heaven!  Mine is truly a testimony that salvation is a work of God alone.  Despite attending a church that did not clearly teach how to be saved, the Holy Spirit worked in my heart as a child through simply learning the Bible. And ever since, I have desired to “grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (II Peter 3:18).

In my early adult years I began attending a more fundamental and gospel-oriented church, and had a time when I struggled with my “unknown moment of salvation.”  Yet, the Lord was faithful to assure me through His Word that I am indeed saved by grace alone through faith alone, and not by my works.  It is the work of God, lest I should boast (Ephesians 2:8-9).  All glory to God!  Amen!

Fear of God

Reverend David Rowe

I was born into a moral (but not Christian) family on June 8, 1949.  As I grew up, I was introduced to many differing religious beliefs.  I had an older sister who was Catholic and friend who was Baptist.  I attended the Episcopal Church’s Sunday school program for a time, and I remember coming under great conviction of my sins through the teaching of a faithful teacher there.  However, I was never presented with the gospel.  Rather, I was lead to believe that I needed to do a series of steps to become confirmed in the church, and that would take care of my guilt.   As I grew into my teen years, I put these religious thoughts out of my head and just looked to enjoy life.

It was not until I joined the U. S. Army and had an interview with a chaplain that I again thought of my guilt before God.  However, life was very busy for an Army recruit, and I again pushed any thoughts of my sin and God into the background.  Then, in 1970 while stationed at Fort Devens, Massachusetts, I met and married my wife.  I was transferred to Japan, and we spent the first three years of our marriage there.  When our first child was born, I began to think, What will I teach our daughter about God?  I was very confused myself.  Catholic, Episcopal, or something else?

I was then transferred to Fort Bliss, Texas, where a series of events took place.  At the time, I did not understand these events to be of God, but looking back now, I see how He worked in my life.  I was assigned to a company that flew aircraft, but I was a radio operator and they did not have a need for my skill there.  So I was placed in the tool room handing out tools to aircraft mechanics.  It was while doing this duty that I met a Sergeant who professed to be a Christian.  He would witness to me using many Bible verses.  At first, I just blew him off.  But then I began to witness how disrespectfully some of the other men treated this man.  And I watched how he continued speaking of his testimony of salvation in the Lord Jesus.

It was at this time Sergeant Johnson invited my wife and me to dinner and a Bible study.  I found myself accepting his invitation.  We arrived at his home, had a nice meal together, and then several others came for the Bible study.

As Sergeant Johnson opened the Word of God, he explained the plan of salvation using Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”  I knew in my heart that verse was talking about me.  The old guilt and fear of God reappeared in my heart that night.  But the Sergeant did not say, “You need to join a church!” or, “Do better in your life!”  He simply pointed me to Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” And he explained that the only hope for a sinner was to trust in Jesus Christ’s work on the cross to save him.

That night in October of 1973, my Lord saved me.  The old fear of God was replaced by a new respect for God and his Son, Jesus Christ.

Life and Death

Arthur L. Libby

As a young boy, I feared death, and though I didn’t think about it often, when I did, it was a scary thought.

By the time I became a teenager, I had been introduced to all sorts of bad and wrong ideas of what was acceptable for me to do and say.  I didn’t consider myself a bad person, but I struggled with anger and it showed.  I also had trouble “adjusting” to high school.  It was an unpleasant experience, as I remember it, and I did not make it far before dropping out.  Just before I did, though, I met a group of kids that went to a local church youth group.  I began attending the group almost every week.  I felt very accepted there, and I started to make new and lasting relationships, all while hearing the Word of God on a weekly basis.  Soon, I began going to church on Sundays, partly to be with my new friends, and partly to hear more about God.

As time went on, and as I heard the message of Jesus Christ dying on the cross for sinners like me, the realization of my need to accept Jesus as my personal Savior grew.  One night, at a church event called the Word of Life Superbowl, I finally prayed that Jesus would save me.  I knew that I would never have to fear death again.

I am so grateful to God for working in my life and bringing me to saving faith.

Childlike Faith

Jessica Libby

July 1, 1988.

I remember it like it was yesterday.  My fifth birthday.  It was also the day I asked Jesus to save me.  I was in Vacation Bible School, and I remember the teacher saying that the only way to go to Heaven was by believing that God sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross for our sins.  She said that if we asked God to forgive us of our sins, then Jesus would come and live in our hearts.  Then she asked if anyone in the class would like to pray and ask Jesus to save them.  I knew right then that I wanted to go to Heaven someday.  So I prayed and asked God to forgive me for all the bad stuff that I had done.  As a five-year-old, I had no problem accepting the fact that all I had to do was believe in Jesus’ work on the cross for my salvation.  I thank God that He chose to make me part of His family when I was just a small child with simple faith.

What’s Your Story?

Do you have a story about how God saved you?

If you do, be sure to share it with others at OurGodSavesBook.wordpress.com.

If your story has yet to be written, I earnestly ask you to do some soul-searching right this very minute.  The facts are very simple.  God tells us in the Bible that we have all been born sinners since the very first child of the rebellious Adam and Eve.  Sinners need forgiveness in order to get into Heaven instead of Hell when they die.  In order for a just and righteous judge—as God surely is—to wipe a sinner’s slate clean, there must be a payment for the sin.  Thankfully, God is good and doesn’t desire to send anyone to Hell.  According to God’s plan, His Son, Jesus, came down to Earth Himself to be born of a virgin as a tiny baby.  This baby grew into a man without sinning even once.  This perfect God-man then willingly sacrificed Himself on a cross while God’s wrath for the world’s sin was poured out on Him.  Jesus died on that cross.  He was buried in a tomb, and He rose from the dead in a glorified body three days later.  Jesus then ascended into Heaven after appearing to more than five hundred people.  He is still there right now, and He is allowing a space of time for all sinners to trust in His sacrifice and be saved from their sin.

Will you trust in Jesus today and ask Him to save you?  Will you stand with us and see firsthand that our God saves?

John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Romans 3:23: “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God...”

Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Romans 5:8: “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

Romans 10:9-10: “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.  For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.”

Romans 10:13: “For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

Please contact me through my website at www.ValerieHowardBooks.com

with any questions or comments!

Thank you!

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Table of Contents

A Note to the Reader

The Carpet

Rest Assured

A Town of Many Churches

Unworthy

Rebirth

Heaven or Hell?

A Godly Mother

Christian or Hypocrite?

The Picture

Good News

I Remember

Never Looking Back

Miracles

God’s Path

The Meaning of Life

The Debt

The Old Brown Car

Not Good Enough

The Best Decision

My Sin

Bible School

Late One Night

A Funeral and a Friend

My Journey

A Sinner and a Saint

In Christ Alone

Simply Faith

Farmer John

The Bargain

Grace Notes

My Savior

Forgiven

Safe and Secure

New Life

A Faith of My Own

Fear of God

Life and Death

Childlike Faith

What’s Your Story?