The California Collection/TheCaliforniaCollection.cdr/his055/testim1.lzh/TESTIM1.TXT

Text File | 1991-07-13 | 7KB | 120 lines

TES:My testimony (unknown)

   I grew up in a family with 2 fine parents, neither of whom was a
Christian, although my Mother believed in God, doing good things,
leading a clean life and generally being kind and considerate to
others. I had a happy childhood and was encouraged to attend Sunday
School from an early age. I loved the singing and the Bible stories but
it meant nothing more than that.

   When I was about 7 or 8, I heard an old man preaching the Good News
of Jesus on the beach. Every day during the summer months, he would
bring bibles, songbooks and a tent through the town and down to the
beach where he would conduct his one-man mission. Anyway, after he had
explained something about the love of Christ, he invited us kids to say
a prayer with him and give our lives to the Lord, and so I did. Nothing
felt different afterwards but I was still excited enough to blurt it
all out as soon as I got home for lunch. My parents told me not to be
so silly and to hurry up washing my hands because the food was getting
cold. I did as I was told (because that was how we behaved) and forgot
all about it for many years.

   In my family, we all loved music, especially fine singing, and so it
was natural that I joined the church choir when I was about 9 or 10. I
used to love the services because it was a chance to sing, I could
chatter quietly to my friends during the sermon, and if it was an
evening sermon, then I could screw up my eyes to look at the candles
and see each one as a cross. Best of all, we were paid to sing!

   Nothing much happened until I was about 13 or 14. My voice started
to break, the vicar suggested I should be confirmed and I ran a mile.
Me get confirmed? No way. As far as I was concerned the church was full
of stuffy old hypocrites and children who were goody-goodies. I didn't
want to be part of that. I was getting into a wild stage of my life
with under-age drinking, taking girls to the farmer's barn and so on.
And so I turned my back on the church and walked away without any
regret at the time.

   Time passed. I grew out the other side of my wild patch and married
when I was 23. She was a lovely woman - everything I could possibly
want in a wife and far, far more than I could ever describe. After 12
years, we had 3 super children, all boys. The first was 8, the second 6
and the little one 18 months. Then life went sour, the colors and the
singing went out of it. My wife was diagnosed as having terminal cancer.

   This couldn't be. Not to us. She was so kind, so loving and I needed
her. No, there must be a mistake. But no, there was no mistake and
although we had access to the best doctors and treatments in England,
all we could hope for was to prolong her life.

   During the 2 years to 1980 when she was ill, Lyn used to go to the
Sunday morning service in church and to a Bible study class in the
vicar's house every Sunday night. She used to get great strength from
it and so, as a loving husband, I helped her all I could to make sure
she never had to miss one, even when it meant carrying her because she
was too weak to walk. I didn't see how she got so much out of it but
could see it did something wonderful for her.

   By early February 1980, she was so ill she was in hospital. We both
knew she wouldn't be coming home again and reckoned there was about 2
or 3 weeks left. Suddenly and with no apparent reason, I knew we had to
get to the hospital QUICKLY. We grabbed our shoes and headed towards
London. It was about 40 miles to the hospital, and meant driving
through nearly all of London on a Saturday lunchtime. The streets were
heaving with people, cars and lorries and yet, somehow, it was as
though a way was being cut through for us as we hit speeds of 80 or 90.

   We reached the hospital and rushed up to Lyn's room. She was in a
coma and fighting for breath, fighting to hang on. I went to her side
and spoke, not knowing if she could hear me. Yes, she seemed to be able
to. Her breathing increased each time I spoke as if she wanted to reply
but couldn't. Then, suddenly, I SAW A HAND REACHING DOWN FOR HERS and
knew that it was OK. "Lyn", I said, "if you can see a hand reaching
down for you, take it." She gave a gentle sigh and died in my arms. How
could that not make an impact on a non-believer.

   In the months that followed, I searched for some purpose to life,
for some spiritual input. I looked suspiciously at the Eastern cults
before deciding that they weren't for me. All the time my desperation
was growing, largely because I had just too much grief bottled up
inside me and I was too much in control to let it out. Then there were
the kids, super boys, and their hurt was hurting me more. Where could I
turn?

   About 6 months before Lyn died, I started showing symptoms of what I
thought might be cancer. But with Lyn ill, what could I do? It seemed
the best thing was to leave it until she either recovered or died.
Well, by the February when she died, it had grown and was so unsightly
that people were keeping on at me to see my doctor and have it treated.
No way, I had seen what all that radiotherapy and chemotherapy had done
to Lyn, and didn't everyone reckon the treatment was as bad as the
disease? Forget it!

   Well, 12 months later in February 1981, I was at the end of my
tether. I just couldn't cope with the pent-up grief, the pressure was
on at work, my own tumor had grown and was bleeding fairly often and I
still hadn't seen a doctor. I just wanted to curl up in a corner and
die. In the middle of all this I was searching desperately for a
spiritual side to my life. Every other religion and cult had seemed
like empty shams and I remembered that Lyn had drawn so much strength
from her Christianity. She had always been a good judge of things -
maybe she was right about this as well.

   And so, I started reading Christian books, going to Christian
meetings and so on. I could feel something reaching me but I was still
holding back. I wasn't ready, I told the counselor, I'm not good enough
yet. Give me time to be more acceptable to God. Then he explained about
the Cross, about how His own Son went to the Cross, bleeding, dying
just for me and my sins. And how, through the resurrection, he defeated
death and sin. And how I could have Jesus as my personal redeemer if I
would only confess my sins, ask forgiveness, and receive Jesus as Lord
of my Life.

   Well, I did and I can't explain the immediate happenings. Like Close
Encounters of the 3rd kind but a million times more powerful. All I
know is that because I'm human, I've made mistakes as I seek to follow
Christ more and more every day of my life, but I'm still accepted by
God through His Son, Jesus Christ. Praise the Lord!

   Computers For Christ