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

Wild Hearts: Jessica's Testimony

People have always used one word describe me: “passionate,” and it took the passion of an almighty God to capture my heart.

One of the largest parts of my identity stems from my ethnicity: I am half Lebanese. My father was raised Muslim and became a Christian in college. He married my American mother, who had become a Christian in high school. Because of my dad’s background, my parents always wanted to make sure that I was able to choose for myself my religion. I was educated about multiple faiths and philosophies, and told that I would have to decide what I myself believed. Probably because I had the heart of a child, and also because of the mercy of God, I came to believe in Jesus as my Savior at a very early age. I have always been passionate. I remember at five years old, desperately wanting to tell my friends and relatives about God. At age seven, my Father finally allowed me to be baptized. I began to read and study the Bible shortly after, and started journaling at age eight. I asked my parents for permission to stay in the sermon rather than going to children’s church, and besides this, my father and mother both provided me with excellent teaching from the scriptures.

As I learned about the Bible, I started to contemplate some of the more challenging questions regarding what I had been hearing and reading. What if the Bible was really written by one person—a grand but perhaps even accidental hoax? What if everything we believed was all just a fiction? What if it never actually happened? What if Jesus never existed? These questions were especially distressing to me because I had, at this point, a very intimate relationship with God’s Spirit, had received his close care for many years, and could not reconcile how I could have experienced this what I understood was not real. My Dad came home to me crying one day as I contemplated these things. My parents sat down with me and began to explain how the Bible was written and how we know the way it was written. They gave me books and research which answered many of my questions, and encouraged me to continue studying on my own. Although I have continued throughout my life to have many questions about the Bible and my faith, from that day on I became only more and more thoroughly convinced that the Bible is true, that Jesus is indeed the son of God, my Savior, and that the very same God was living and breathing into me, each day—of these things I have been convinced and upon them, I have staked my life.

This, of course, was only the beginning of my journey. Shortly after I was assured of my faith, God filled me for the first time with power by His Holy Spirit. And it’s a good thing, because my sin was already taking a strong hold in my life. Pride has been, and still is, my greatest enemy. From an early age I struggled with judging my parents, especially my father. I knew enough about Christianity that I could see what they were doing wrong—when they weren’t living up to the standard of the Bible or the teaching at church—and I held it against them. I felt that I should not have to respect those who did not “earn it.” As the oldest, I was a great challenge to my father and his authority. Although we had a very good relationship when I was a child, as I moved into pre-adolescence and adolescence, things only became more difficult. By the time I was fourteen we were thorough enemies. My mother was always trying to mediate between us. Even though I never seriously disobeyed my parents, or immersed myself in the world, or ran away from my home, I doubt that anyone could have broken the fifth commandment more thoroughly than I did. Both of my parents tried to tell me how serious my pride and arrogance was, but I was staunchly certain that I was the correct one and that they were the ones who did not understand. They could correct me over and over, but it was like I couldn’t even hear them.

It took me until high school to see my arrogance for what it was. God used a series of very humbling events and godly men and women in my life to show me just how disgusting my sin was. Everyone had been effected by my pride—my parents, my siblings, my friends, my teachers—I was the only one who hadn’t seen it; and then all the sudden, my eyes were opened, and I thought I would die. In his love, my Father God patiently disciplined me, and began to tame this tongue of mine, which was as a sharp sword which wounds. He also began to teach me of the cross, and for the first time, I grew to understand the great cost which my savior paid for me as he hung at Calvary. Wild hearts can’t be tamed, but they can be captured, by the great and powerful love of an awesome God.

From then on, it has been a continual process of breaking and healing, humbling and sustaining, growing and glorying in the gospel of my Lord. For those of you who can relate to me: those with a strong head and a stubborn heart—with difficult questions and deep thoughts—with a passionate desire for something worth living for—let me assure you: there is one and only one who is worthy of your allegiance; he is the Lion of Judah, the Holy King of Israel, the Creator of the ends of the Earth. Pledge him your sword and he will make you a mighty warrior for him—only under his mighty hand will your knee bow, but when you do, you will experience the freedom for which your fiery heart has always longed—freedom in an unquenchable and passionate love which alone is powerful enough to hold you.

~Jessica

More than decoration: Julie's Testimony

I've always been exposed to Christianity, the local church, sound doctrine and biblical relationships. For the first 14 years of my life I was comfortable with who I was, where I lived, who my friends were, and what I was doing with my life. I had accepted Christ when I was 8 and I was living like I thought a Christian should. I was participating in things at the church, I had great godly friends, I was pretty obedient to my parents and got along with my brother most of the time. Sure I did things wrong, but I knew that if I asked God for forgiveness that he would grant that to me and that Jesus had already paid the punishment for my sin. I knew the right answers, I knew the right way to live, I knew the right scriptures to quote. But I didn't know that being a Christian was much more than that.

When I was 14 I attended the Xtreme conference at Metro Life Church, the local church that I had grown up in. It was the first time that I had been to the conference and I was really looking forward to it, and had a lot of faith for what God was going to do in everyone there. Everyone, except me. Sure I had a measly amount of faith for God revealing himself to me, but I honestly didn't really want that to happen. I like my comfortable little bubble and I didn't want God to pop in and change it. Here's a tip for you though...don't put God in a bubble...he will eventually pop it and radically change your perspective and your life.

At that conference I realized that I was not living my life completely committed to God. I was living with false assurance. All my faith was in a prayer that I prayed one night in my living room at the ripe old age of 8. I lived my life riding on the coat tails of my parents beliefs and convictions, without owning them for myself. Another tip...living this way produces nothing but empty, worthless fruit. It's kinda like the fake plastic fruit...looks pretty and real on the outside, but the inside is hard, hollow sometimes, and cannot be used for anything but decoration. I realized that weekend that I was nothing more than a decoration on the shelf of Christianity and that God would not take me off the shelf to use me unless I pleaded with the Lord to change me...to pop my bubble.

Over the past few years, the Lord has continuously and faithfully been changing and molding my heart into what HE wants it to look like. He has graciously allowed me to see his hand in so many things and has taken me on an incredible journey. He changed my perspective dramatically during my trips to Bolivia and China, he is still helping me grow in humility and patience with my sisters, he has given me amazing relationships with my parents and friends, and has provided me with jobs that provide many opportunities to share the gospel with my co-workers. But most of all he has drawn me to himself through the power of his word. God's scripture is amazingly relevant and full of life. It has everything you need for your life...it lacks absolutely nothing. The promises it holds about our Savior should change your life every day...and if they don't then please evaluate your heart.

Now don't get the wrong idea. I did not change overnight...ask my parents or my friends. But my heart began to melt, I began to have a passion for the things of God like never before, and I started to have discernment and wisdom about things, instead of relying solely on my parents to tell me what to do and how to behave. It's amazing how the Lord grants us the desires of our hearts when we truly submit to him and his sovereign care and discipline in our lives. It hurts, there are tears, frustration, and lots of questions about what God is doing. I've lost relationships, I've changed directions many times, I've fallen short even more times. But there is reward, joy, happiness and abundant blessing that comes from living completely surrendered to Him. My dad tells me all the time, "There is much reward in righteous living." He is right...and the reward far outweighs the difficulties that are on the road of sanctification.

My testimony so far is not what I would call extraordinary. But then I've realized that it's not about my specific story, in fact it's not about me at all. It's about God taking an ordinary sinner like me, and doing extraordinary things in her life. Only Jesus Christ is able to accomplish that. If I may take this moment to encourage you all to not just be a decoration. I lived as a "Christian" for 6 years without really doing anything for God. I was seeking to serve only myself, and as scripture says you cannot serve two masters. Now I know that I belong to God. My life is committed to him and I have never been more in love with my savior. I'm more than just a decoration...I'm a trophy of grace, a daughter of the King of Kings, a sinner that has been rescued by the redeeming blood of Christ, and I give my life to love him always. Don't be fake...God can see right through that. Be real, be genuine, and be open...share what God has given you. It is the most beautiful thing to see someone used by God in the way that he intends. So, get yourself down off the shelf, dust off your hearts, pray for change, and ask God to humble you and pop your bubble. He will do great things because he is a great God.

~Julie