A Personal Testimony
MY TESTIMONY
. 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 goodygoodies. 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 the 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 – Chicago