Love Lifted Me: Janelle's Testimony

I guess you could say that I come from a large family. Seven kids is a lot and I still get confused when someone says, "Did you LIKE growing up with all those people?" I didn't know any different. And I find myself hating being alone. So yes, I liked it. In fact, I still love it and wouldn't ask for anything to be different.

My Dad is a pastor. He hasn't known anything else, and being raised a PK in Sovereign Grace Ministries all my life isn't weird or strange. It's just life.

I have a "boring" testimony, though any story that begins with a sinner going to hell and ends with a sinner going to heaven isn't boring. I had a dream about hell and didn't want to go there, so I sat with my dad and mom while dad drew me a graph on a piece of paper. It showed a heart that was full of sin, that was then erased and filled with the Spirit of God. Fiery darts (my dad drawing streaks of pencil lead across the page) can now bounce off my heart and not take hold because God lives in me. The joy I felt was real...and tears rolled down my face as I asked God to forgive me of my sin and to make His Spirit dwell in me.

I understood the Gospel at seven. I even had fruit in my life; I loved to worship and read deep theological books, namely by dead Puritans with titles like "Sin and Temptation". I also read books by modern guys, books like "Desiring God" and "Trusting God." As I got older, around 10 or 11, we would sit as a family at dinner and talk about subjects like free will, eschatology, predestination, and election. We would go over worship songs and hymns in the morning, songs like "Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed" and "It Is Well." My brother Jesse would play the guitar, and Mom with her small brood would worship, and confess sin, and read books. Then we would usually start school, which looked like us sitting on her bed while she read from "A History of US." Those mornings are some of my fondest memories, and ones that I want to have with my own children. Not only was a love for God instilled in me, but a love of learning, and of debating, not only theological topics but historical ones as well.

One family vacation stands out to me in my spiritual walk. I almost drowned in a rip current. I was twelve, and it was the summer of 1997. I was very comfortable with my spiritual walk...I was reading all these great books, worshiping with passion, and learning what it was like to have a love of Scripture. Even at a young age I struggled, and gave into, intellectual pride. I knew that I was different, that my family was different, and that most kids didn't grow up the way I did. I was smarter than them. I loved God more than they did. I was more blessed and given more grace than they were. This made be, naturally, better than them.

One day at the beach, my friend Peter was swept away in the water, struggling because he could only doggie-paddle. I could swim better than him, and didn't think much of it, just figuring that he had gone out too deep. No other adults were at the beach yet, so I went out and grabbed his wrist, only to be sucked out into the waves with him. I quickly realized I was in trouble. A storm had just come through and the waves were monstrous, sweeping me further out while pounding me over the head with their ferocity. Peter floated to safety, which is what you are supposed to do in a rip current, but I didn't know how to float.

I was terrified. I clearly remember screaming for help, seeing people on the beach doing nothing. I thought I was going to die...I was tired, had swallowed water, and thought I would just be swept away into the ocean and drown before help arrived.

Then, to my intense relief, I saw my Daddy tearing down the dune towards me, ripping off his shirt and diving headlong into the waves. There is no adequate way to express what I felt. I went from utter terror to intense relief in the space of two seconds. I knew that I was safe. Dad wouldn't let me drown. There was no doubt in my mind that he would save me.

That wasn't the end. We both battled the waves for what seemed like hours, in reality only fifteen minutes. Dad thought we were goners...he put me on his back, not expecting to come back up out of the water and doing what he could to make sure I didn't drown with him. If you know anything about rip currents, or have ever been in one, you know that they are savage and unrelenting...the harder you fight it, the further it drags you out and under. Dad knew this, and fully expected to die in trying to save me. So on his back I went, and under the waves he was submerged.

Then, as he was submerged and I was starting to sink as well, a wave pushed us towards land. Again, if you know anything about rip currents, this is unusual, if not impossible. There were bystanders who saw this happen and were waiting in the shallows to try and grab us. A man named Jack grabbed me off Dad's back and hauled me to shore. I sat and watched as Dad was pulled, half unconscious, out of the waves and laid on his back. Medical personnel finally arrived and began to pump water out of his lungs while rushing him to the hospital. I watched as they loaded him into the ambulance...I was saved because he had come in after me. My Dad had just saved my life and was now struggling for his own life in return.

Again, there is no adequate way to describe the next few hours. He remained in the hospital and was finally released when all of the water was pumped from his lungs. He still could have drowned, even out of the waves, because of the amount of water he had breathed in while rescuing me. We found out that two days before, on the same beach, a fifteen year old boy had drowned in a rip current, and his father had also drowned trying to rescue him.

This was a turning point. I realized that it was not enough for me to know theology, or love worship, or to read the Bible everyday. My very existence is contingent only on the mercy and grace of God. My very breath is breathed only on His sustaining hand. My knowledge and understanding is based on what He provides and not on what I do. Coming that close to death, and then that close to losing my dad, brought me against this stark reality: God alone is sovereign and He alone does what He wills. In turn, who am I to think that how much I read or how many discussions I get in about doctrine are in any way adding to my salvation, or making me more holy than others who don't? The very fact that I love theology and doctrine is only from God.

I am still learning this even now. The temptation in being a graduate nurse is to pat myself on the back for getting through on my own wits and knowledge and not point to the One who gave it to me in the first place. What arrogance, to assume that any accomplishment of mine is by my own strength! It would be like if I patted myself on the back for making it back to shore when I was near death, instead of crediting God for saving my life and that of my dad's. This hymn has always resonated in my heart since that day at the beach. Whenever I am tempted to credit myself for a job well done, the Lord reminds me of these timeless words.

I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore
Very deeply stained within, sinking to rise no more
Than the Master of the sea heard my despairing cry
From the waters lifted me, now safe am I

Love lifted me, love lifted me
When nothing else could help
Love lifted me