I was asked on another thread for my testimony, where I originally posted this. But upon further reflection, I thought it may be wise to share this with others outside of that original thread. This is not only about how I came to know the Lord, but how I came to be filled with the Spirit.
-------
I grew up in a home that wasn't particularly religious. My father was raised Roman Catholic, and my mom had roots in Nazarene and Pentecostal churches. But for a number of reasons, by the time they married, they had pretty much given up the religious associations they were raised in.
Over the years, I had minimal exposure to the gospel. My older brother (by 12 years) from my mom's first marriage was pretty well known as a young evangelist. He was living with his father and grandparents while he toured the circuit preaching. He eventually settled down to pastor a church just outside of Chicago. About this time, we moved from Chicago to North Carolina.
My brother would visit some over the years as I grew up. From time to time, he would do things like give me and my younger brother a children's Bible. He would share some gospel stories. He read through the ten commandments. And from time to time, I would get to hear him preach. Sometimes I would do something that I knew was wrong. And remembering some of the things he said, I would feel guilty. But nothing quite sunk in until I was about 14.
When I was about 14, my parents were going through a very rough patch in their marriage. My mom suspected my father was cheating on her. They fought all the time. Day and night for a year or two, they screamed at one another at the top of their lungs. Throughout the day, the phone would ring. My mom would pick up, and there would be silence on the other end. This would happen a dozen times a day, and sometimes even in the middle of the night. We changed our phone number, and it would still happen. My parents started to talk about a divorce.
That year my aunt invited me and my family to visit them in Tennessee. It was Easter time, so we thought it would be a great chance to visit and see the family. And because it was Easter, my aunt invited all of us to her church, where they were putting on a very elaborate Easter passion play. We went.
And for the first time ever in my life, as I watched the play unfold, I came to actually understand something of what the gospel was about. I still remember vividly watching as a Roman centurion pushed our Lord down a church isle, whipping Him as He struggled to bear the cross. This picture made a very strong impression in my mind that night.
But as I sat there watching the drama unfold, I saw my parents fighting with one another under their breath in the pew. My mom continued to make accusations towards my father as we sat there. He would continue to defend himself.
The play continued on. Christ was crucified. Christ was risen. And Christ ascended. And quietly, the pastor of that church made his way to the front of the platform, and began to talk. He began to retell the gospel story we just saw, and invited people to respond. I felt gripped.
Then an interesting thing happened. My parents both got up, and they made their way down the isle to the altar. I was stunned. I didn't understand what was happening. Then my younger brother, he got up. And he made his way to the front. I continued to sit there. Frozen. Alone.
And then I heard something more clear than I've ever heard anything in my entire life. I heard the Lord speak to me. He said to me, "Jimmy. I love you, and I want you to respond to this pastors invitation. You don't have to go up front to the altar to pray. If you want, you can just kneel in your pew, and there are people here who love you and will pray for you."
But I continued to sit there. I didn't budge. And time went on, and the service eventually came to an end. I eventually made my way up front, where my parents were. They received the Lord that night.
We eventually made our way back to my aunt's house. And that night as I lay there on her sofa, trying to go to sleep, I remember looking up into the ceiling. It was very dark that night. The darkness seemed exceptionally dark.
Easter came to an end and we made our way back home. Things began to change drastically. My parents still fought some. But their fighting slowly came to an end. For the first time ever, we started visiting churches in the area. Every Sunday evening we watched Dr. Charles Stanley's "In Touch" TV program on the local Christian network. We went to the local Christian bookstore. My parents bought me and my brother Bibles. We began to read the Scriptures every night as a family. 3 chapters each time. My parents made my brother and I memorize the Lord's Prayer.
I still hadn't received the Lord. And all this religious activity started to make me angry. My parents were still fighting some, which only furthered my anger. I didn't want all this God stuff. I thought God was only for people going through a midlife crisis.
We visited church after church in the area. Some I enjoyed more than others. Others I just outright hated. But one thing that most of them had in common was the fact that every time I visited them, I always felt like crying. I didn't know why. But I always felt very sad.
I started to feel like God was haunting me. But I didn't want anything to do with Him. I always wanted to run anytime it felt like He was knocking. But eventually all these things slowly started to wear down my defenses. And one night as I lay on my bed, sometime when I was around 16 years old, I prayed a simple prayer.
There were no fireworks that night. I can't say I really felt any different than I did before. But slowly and surely, it felt like my life began to change. My parents gave up their fighting, and reconciled with one another in a very powerful way. Recently they celebrated their 31st wedding anniversary. And my mom recently remarked that every time my father comes home from work and walks through the door, she gets excited. They are truly in love.
But about the time all of this happened, my parents stopped being involved in church. We had settled down for a brief time in a local Pentecostal church. But as the Y2K storm brewed, my parents began to panic. Fearing a system wide meltdown, my parents began to store massive quantities of food and other things for necessary for survival. Grant Jeffery's doomsday tapes were regularly watched. My parents started to push literature and video tapes into the hands of other members at the church.
The pastor wasn't very thrilled about this. And eventually one morning, he preached a sermon that was definitely geared towards my parents, and mocked the entire idea of such a meltdown. My parents, who were big supporters of the pastor, and who had made a sizable donation to the pastor so he could go on a missions trip to India got very offended. We left the church, and my parents have seldom visited a church ever since.
About this time, our family devotions began to fade away. We stopped watching Charles Stanley. About this time, I began to fall away from the Lord for a little bit. I became increasingly carnal. One might say I even backslid. I struggled to stay grounded in my faith.
But my interest in God never ceased. There was a online chess club I regularly played games on that also had a room dedicated to religious debates. When I wasn't playing chess, I would get online and regularly engage people in debates about God and the Bible. I didn't really know much of anything, but I enjoyed the excitement of it all. But in these debates I engaged got me to questioning a lot of things. Coupled with being home-schooled at this time in my life, I started to read the Bible on my own. I did it not so much out of devotion, must out of a sense of wanting to argue with other people about all the different view points.
As time progressed though, and the more I read my Bible, the more I started becoming grieved over myself and my sin. Eventually I started to dive into the Scriptures because I was hungry for what they had to say. I started reading other books. Eschatology was a fascinating topic to me. The Left Behind books were insanely popular at the time. I began to devour more and more stuff.
Then one day I had an encounter with somebody who claimed to be a Mormon. He showed me passages like Ephesians 4 and 1 Corinthians 14, and started asking me if any of the churches I had ever gone to made claim to any of the things in those passages. I denied it, and cited some teachings I had heard from Charles Stanley about how the gifts of the Spirit were only for Bible days, and things like that.
But the more I read my Bible and the more I began to study things for myself, I started to feel like I was missing something in my Christian walk and experience. The more I studied, the more I became aware that the New Testament church walked in an amazing power that I had no real familiarity with. As I studied, I couldn't help but be bothered by the questions my Mormon friend had asked me that one time.
But, I knew in my heart of hearts that Mormonism was very wrong, and that Joseph Smith was a false prophet. But I couldn't but help be impressed by the point this guy had made with me. So, I began to seek God on my own about this issue. I wanted clarity on the topic. And above all things, I wanted whatever it was I was reading about in my Bible. I didn't know what it all was about, but as I approached my 18th year, I soon found out.
One night as I lay in my bed, I was deep in prayer. And suddenly as I lay in my bed, I felt the presence of God in a way that was stronger than when I first heard the gospel message. It was as if my room was just absolutely saturated in His presence. I began to groan and cry out. Then the Lord told me, "I know where you have been, I know where you are, and I know where you are going." I told the Lord that night, "Wherever you would have me to go, I will go there." That night I felt full of the presence of God.
Things began to change very quickly from there. All of a sudden on my own, I started feeling compelled to go to church. And not only go to church, but to be baptized. I felt a new boldness in my life. And I started feeling compelled to speak up in a number of situations. Not being a part of a church anywhere, I started driving around town. Where would I go to be baptized? What church would I join? I wasnt really sure. There seemed to be so many churches to choose from in my town.
Eventually I felt the Lord direct me to go to a large Baptist church just a few miles from where I lived. Writing a long letter, and in somewhat dramatic fashion, I told my parents I felt called to go into ministry, and that God wanted me to go to church and be baptized. They were pretty shocked. They were a little upset. They didnt know what quite to make of the entire thing. Especially since they didnt even know I was saved at the time.
And from there, I began what has been an amazing journey that Ive yet to depart from. Ive had some amazing highs. And Ive had some amazing lows. There were some things I did in those early years of my walk for which I am deeply ashamed. Ive suffered greatly, and know what it is like to hit rock bottom and break into a thousand pieces. But I also know what it is for the Lord to bind up the brokenhearted, to strengthen the feeble, and to discover joy unspeakable.
I know what it is to go from faith to faith and glory to glory. I know what it is like to walk in victory over sin, and to abound in grace. I know what it is to preach the gospel at work, on the street, in a homeless shelter, and from behind a pulpit. I know what it is like to speak before thousands, and I know what it is like to spend countless hours talking to people one on one. Ive had the joy of seeing men and women, young and old, come to know the Lord, and to be radically saved by Him. And above all, I know the love of God for myself. When I didnt want the Lord, He loved me and pursued me anyway. Though I fought and ran, He chased me down, took a hold of me, and to date, He hasnt let me go.
_________________
Jimmy H
|
