Introduction:
This Testimony was written as I applied for Church Membership at my current Church in 2012. Its purpose was to share with the Membership how God had saved me. This is done by everyone that is currently a Member, and, because it is something that Church Members read while at Church, it was usually short in nature; maybe a page or two. Mine was not, which is explained below. I don’t think anyone had ever done more than a couple. So please keep this in mind as you read.
Much more could be said, but then I would be writing a book! 🙂 Enjoy!
To the Pastors and Church family of Grace Immanuel,
I apologize that it has taken so long for me to transfer my membership from Harbor to Grace Immanuel. As some of you may know, I was a Member of this Church from February of 1991 until 2000. Some of the reasons why it has taken so long are rooted in why we left. I wanted to make sure that we have resolved these and can wholeheartedly join you in the work of building Christ’s Church. Thank you for your love and making my family feel welcome!
I would also like to preface my Testimony with the following:
It is a long testimony, at least compared with those that I’ve read over the years. I did not intend to make it long, but as I was writing it out, found myself wanting to include more details about how God was working in me during this time. I tried to write it as an 18 year old, instead of a 58 year old. I did this with a purpose. I wanted the young people of the church to be able to relate to it and somehow aid them in their own personal pursuit of God.
I also want to say, I do not agree with the unorthodox manner in which God saved me. Though God was pleased to open my heart as I responded to the Gospel presented that night by walking an aisle and praying the Sinner’s Prayer, I believe it was a misleading and destructive method for many of those who stood with me. Again, this is how God saved me and it was a historical event. It is not an endorsement in any way of this type of evangelism.
I was born in Toronto, Ontario, April 6th 1955. My parents, though both unconverted, were strict and loving. They raised my younger brother and me to respect authority and obey rules, and used the belt as often as necessary to make sure that we did. But it was a Godless home. There was no prayer before meals or at bedtime, no Bible stories, and any references to God were derogatory or in cursing. Christmas was about Santa Claus and Easter about a Bunny and Eggs. I only had a cursory understanding about a baby named Jesus who later died on a cross.
My mother did originally attend church. I was baptized as an infant in a Presbyterian Church and have a picture of her and me going when I was very young. Apparently, she had gone forward at a Billy Graham Crusade held in her High School. But she had told me once, that she only did so because of her friends that had brought her. As time went on she realized that she never felt the same way that they did. My dad’s parents were also Sunday school teachers, and though he said that this had turned him off to religion, no doubt my mom’s faith endeared her to their hearts. We would stop attending altogether, however, by the time I could even remember going.
We lived in Toronto until I was 6. We lived in my grandparent’s basement for some time until we moved to California. I still have memories of building snow forts and ice skating in the back yard during winters. I remember my grandmother’s love and affection, seeing her at breakfast before leaving for work. She told me after I was converted, that she prayed for me regularly. There were Aunts and Uncles, and cousins to play with during these early years. We would leave them all behind in 1961 when we moved, and rarely see any of them after this.
I would end up living near Los Angeles in a small middle class suburb until I was 18. The sixties was a time of great unrest and rebellion, and southern California was probably the worst place to raise a family. Though I loved and respected my parents, the effects of this kind of culture took its toll on me. Alcohol, drugs, and sex, were widespread and commonplace, even as early as my 7th and 8th grade. By my High School years, I was slowly sucked into its control. My love for my parents was no match for the acceptance of my peers, and soon compromises would erode the foundation they had tried to create for me.
By my junior year I began surfing, which instantly brought new friends and change in lifestyle. I had a car and since gas was cheap could take the 30 mile trip to the beach whenever I felt like it. Though my physique began to change from the demands of the sport and I learned to appreciate nature and solitude more, my health was affected by the late night parties and the drinking and smoking pot that became commonplace. And although I was able to keep my grades up and hide my deteriorating lifestyle from my family, it began to take its toll on me emotionally.
I became depressed and found myself wanting to get stoned more often. The people I had hung out with began showing their true colors and superficiality. Most were attracted more to my car and the trips to parties or the beach than me. My life became a downward spiral, and no matter how many good waves or crazy parties I indulged in, nothing would pull me out of the nosedive. And though I wanted nothing to do with God and confessed to be an atheist, inwardly I knew that He existed and used this as a smokescreen for my ungodly lifestyle.
In the Providence of God, one of my new friends during this time became my best friend. We did everything together, from concerts and parties, to surfing and being at each others homes. I even moved in with him one weekend after being thrown out of my house. That weekend, I was hit in the back of the neck while surfing and had come close to dying. He drove me to the ER, and then to my home, where I was received back, though hardened and unrepentant. It was after this event that God began to change hearts, first, my friend Paul’s, then mine.
Though the doctor had been emphatic with my parents about my close call with death, I threw myself even more into a reckless lifestyle. Paul had been sobered and stopped going to parties and taking drugs. Though we remained close, I often went off on my own during the weekends. It was during a David Bowie concert that I received my final wake up call.
Driving home while extremely high with two other passengers, I blacked out on the freeway. I don’t know how long it was, but when I came to, I immediately broke out into a cold sweat and was completely sober. However, this brush with death was not like my surfing accident. This one would haunt me. Though I had a callous disregard for my own life, I had now risked the lives of two others. I became very troubled by this. My life was rapidly disintegrating and I knew it.
I Praise God for having His protective hand on you through all the years that you were living a sad life.