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Here's another new thread inviting people to share their testimonies on how they came to faith in Christ.
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How did you come to faith in Christ?
- Thread starter Anthony2019
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Great idea for a thread. Thankyou Anthony. I came to faith in Christ when I was 14 years old at a youth event. The theme was 'Jesus said,"I am the Way,the Truth and the Life" (John 14:6)
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Very similar to the story given here.....
The Life of George Clark Rankin
In the course of an hour I was at my uncle's. He was surprised to see me, but gave me a cordial welcome. The first thing he did was to disarm me, and that ended my pistol-toting. I have never had one about my person or home to this good day. And I never will understand just why I had that one. A good dinner refreshed me and I soon unfolded my plans and they were satisfactory to my kind-hearted kinsman. He was in the midst of cotton-picking and that afternoon I went to the field and, with a long sack about my waist, had my first experience in the cottonfield. We then would get ready for the revival occurring that night…
After the team had been fed and we had been to supper we put the mules to the wagon, filled it with chairs and we were off to the meeting. When we reached the locality it was about dark and the people were assembling. Their horses and wagons filled up the cleared spaces and the singing was already in progress. My uncle and his family went well up toward the front, but I dropped into a seat well to the rear. It was an old-fashioned Church, ancient in appearance, oblong in shape and unpretentious. It was situated in a grove about one hundred yards from the road. It was lighted with old tallow-dip candles furnished by the neighbors. It was not a prepossessing-looking place, but it was soon crowded and evidently there was a great deal of interest. A cadaverous-looking man stood up in front with a tuning fork and raised and led the songs. There were a few prayers and the minister came in with his saddlebags and entered the pulpit. He was the Rev. W. H. Heath, the circuit rider. His prayer impressed me with his earnestness and there were many amens to it in the audience. I do not remember his text, but it was a typical revival sermon, full of unction and power.
At its close he invited penitents to the altar and a great many young people flocked to it and bowed for prayer. Many of them became very much affected and they cried out distressingly for mercy. It had a strange effect on me. It made me nervous and I wanted to retire. Directly my uncle came back to me, put his arm around my shoulder and asked me if I did not want to be religious. I told him that I had always had that desire, that mother had brought me up that way, and really I did not know anything else. Then he wanted to know if I had ever professed religion. I hardly understood what he meant and did not answer him. He changed his question and asked me if I had ever been to the altar for prayer, and I answered him in the negative. Then he earnestly besought me to let him take me up to the altar and join the others in being prayed for. It really embarrassed me and I hardly knew what to say to him. He spoke to me of my mother and said that when she was a little girl she went to the altar and that Christ accepted her and she had been a good Christian all these years. That touched me in a tender spot, for mother always did do what was right; and then I was far away from her and wanted to see her. Oh, if she were there to tell me what to do!
By and by I yielded to his entreaty and he led forward to the altar. The minister took me by the hand and spoke tenderly to me as I knelt at the altar. I had gone more out of sympathy than conviction, and I did not know what to do after I bowed there. The others were praying aloud and now and then one would rise shoutingly happy and make the old building ring with his glad praise. It was a novel experience to me. I did not know what to pray for, neither did I know what to expect if I did pray. I spent the most of the hour wondering why I was there and what it all meant. No one explained anything to me. Once in awhile some good old brother or sister would pass my way, strike me on the back and tell me to look up and believe and the blessing would come. But that was not encouraging to me. In fact, it sounded like nonsense and the noise was distracting me. Even in my crude way of thinking I had an idea that religion was a sensible thing and that people ought to become religious intelligently and without all that hurrah. I presume that my ideas were the result of the Presbyterian training given to me by old grandfather. By and by my knees grew tired and the skin was nearly rubbed off my elbows. I thought the service never would close, and when it did conclude with the benediction I heaved a sigh of relief. That was my first experience at the mourner's bench.
As we drove home I did not have much to say, but I listened attentively to the conversation between my uncle and his wife. They were greatly impressed with the meeting, and they spoke first of this one and that one who had "come through" and what a change it would make in the community, as many of them were bad boys. As we were putting up the team my uncle spoke very encouragingly to me; he was delighted with the step I had taken and he pleaded with me not to turn back, but to press on until I found the pearl of great price. He knew my mother would be very happy over the start I had made. Before going to sleep I fell into a train of thought, though I was tired and exhausted. I wondered why I had gone to that altar and what I had gained by it. I felt no special conviction and had received no special impression, but then if my mother had started that way there must be something in it, for she always did what was right. I silently lifted my heart to God in prayer for conviction and guidance. I knew how to pray, for I had come up through prayer, but not the mourner's bench sort. So I determined to continue to attend the meeting and keep on going to the altar until I got religion.
Early the next morning I was up and in a serious frame of mind. I went with the other hands to the cottonfield and at noon I slipped off in the barn and prayed. But the more I thought of the way those young people were moved in the meeting and with what glad hearts they had shouted their praises to God the more it puzzled and confused me. I could not feel the conviction that they had and my heart did not feel melted and tender. I was callous and unmoved in feeling and my distress on account of sin was nothing like theirs. I did not understand my own state of mind and heart. It troubled me, for by this time I really wanted to have an experience like theirs.
When evening came I was ready for Church service and was glad to go. It required no urging. Another large crowd was present and the preacher was as earnest as ever. I did not give much heed to the sermon. In fact, I do not recall a word of it. I was anxious for him to conclude and give me a chance to go to the altar. I had gotten it into my head that there was some real virtue in the mourner's bench; and when the time came I was one of the first to prostrate myself before the altar in prayer. Many others did likewise. Two or three good people at intervals knelt by me and spoke encouragingly to me, but they did not help me. Their talks were mere exhortations to earnestness and faith, but there was no explanation of faith, neither was there any light thrown upon my mind and heart. I wrought myself up into tears and cries for help, but the whole situation was dark and I hardly knew why I cried, or what was the trouble with me. Now and then others would arise from the altar in an ecstasy of joy, but there was no joy for me. When the service closed I was discouraged and felt that maybe I was too hardhearted and the good Spirit could do nothing for me.
After we went home I tossed on the bed before going to sleep and wondered why God did not do for me what he had done for mother and what he was doing in that meeting for those young people at the altar. I could not understand it. But I resolved to keep on trying, and so dropped off to sleep. The next day I had about the same experience and at night saw no change in my condition. And so for several nights I repeated the same distressing experience. The meeting took on such interest that a day service was adopted along with the night exercises, and we attended that also. And one morning while I bowed at the altar in a very disturbed state of mind Brother Tyson, a good local preacher and the father of Rev. J. F. Tyson, now of the Central Conference, sat down by me and, putting his hand on my shoulder, said to me: "Now I want you to sit up awhile and let's talk this matter over quietly. I am sure that you are in earnest, for you have been coming to this altar night after night for several days. I want to ask you a few simple questions." And the following questions were asked and answered:
"My son, do you not love God?"
"I cannot remember when I did not love him."
"Do you believe on his Son, Jesus Christ?"
"I have always believed on Christ. My mother taught me that from my earliest recollection."
"Do you accept him as your Savior?"
"I certainly do, and have always done so."
"Can you think of any sin that is between you and the Savior?"
"No, sir; for I have never committed any bad sins."
"Do you love everybody?"
"Well, I love nearly everybody, but I have no ill-will toward any one. An old man did me a wrong not long ago and I acted ugly toward him, but I do not care to injure him."
"Can you forgive him?"
"Yes, if he wanted me to."
"But, down in your heart, can you wish him well?"
"Yes, sir; I can do that."
"Well, now let me say to you that if you love God, if you accept Jesus Christ as your Savior from sin and if you love your fellowmen and intend by God's help to lead a religious life, that's all there is to religion. In fact, that is all I know about it."
Then he repeated several passages of Scriptures to me proving his assertions. I thought a moment and said to him: "But I do not feel like these young people who have been getting religion night after night. I cannot get happy like them. I do not feel like shouting."
The good man looked at me and smiled and said: "Ah, that's your trouble. You have been trying to feel like them. Now you are not them; you are yourself. You have your own quiet disposition and you are not turned like them. They are excitable and blustery like they are. They give way to their feelings. That's all right, but feeling is not religion. Religion is faith and life. If you have violent feeling with it, all good and well, but if you have faith and not much feeling, why the feeling will take care of itself. To love God and accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, turning away from all sin, and living a godly life, is the substance of true religion."
That was new to me, yet it had been my state of mind from childhood. For I remembered that away back in my early life, when the old preacher held services in my grandmother's house one day and opened the door of the Church, I went forward and gave him my hand. He was to receive me into full membership at the end of six months' probation, but he let it pass out of his mind and failed to attend to it.
As I sat there that morning listening to the earnest exhortation of the good man my tears ceased, my distress left me, light broke in upon my mind, my heart grew joyous, and before I knew just what I was doing I was going all around shaking hands with everybody, and my confusion and darkness disappeared and a great burden rolled off my spirit. I felt exactly like I did when I was a little boy around my mother's knee when she told of Jesus and God and Heaven. It made my heart thrill then, and the same old experience returned to me in that old country Church that beautiful September morning down in old North Georgia.
I at once gave my name to the preacher for membership in the Church, and the following Sunday morning, along with many others, he received me into full membership in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. It was one of the most delightful days in my recollection. It was the third Sunday in September, 1866, and those Church vows became a living principle in my heart and life. During these forty-five long years, with their alternations of sunshine and shadow, daylight and darkness, success and failure, rejoicing and weeping, fears within and fightings without, I have never ceased to thank God for that autumnal day in the long ago when my name was registered in the Lamb's Book of Life.
.../Quote...
The Life of George Clark Rankin
In the course of an hour I was at my uncle's. He was surprised to see me, but gave me a cordial welcome. The first thing he did was to disarm me, and that ended my pistol-toting. I have never had one about my person or home to this good day. And I never will understand just why I had that one. A good dinner refreshed me and I soon unfolded my plans and they were satisfactory to my kind-hearted kinsman. He was in the midst of cotton-picking and that afternoon I went to the field and, with a long sack about my waist, had my first experience in the cottonfield. We then would get ready for the revival occurring that night…
After the team had been fed and we had been to supper we put the mules to the wagon, filled it with chairs and we were off to the meeting. When we reached the locality it was about dark and the people were assembling. Their horses and wagons filled up the cleared spaces and the singing was already in progress. My uncle and his family went well up toward the front, but I dropped into a seat well to the rear. It was an old-fashioned Church, ancient in appearance, oblong in shape and unpretentious. It was situated in a grove about one hundred yards from the road. It was lighted with old tallow-dip candles furnished by the neighbors. It was not a prepossessing-looking place, but it was soon crowded and evidently there was a great deal of interest. A cadaverous-looking man stood up in front with a tuning fork and raised and led the songs. There were a few prayers and the minister came in with his saddlebags and entered the pulpit. He was the Rev. W. H. Heath, the circuit rider. His prayer impressed me with his earnestness and there were many amens to it in the audience. I do not remember his text, but it was a typical revival sermon, full of unction and power.
At its close he invited penitents to the altar and a great many young people flocked to it and bowed for prayer. Many of them became very much affected and they cried out distressingly for mercy. It had a strange effect on me. It made me nervous and I wanted to retire. Directly my uncle came back to me, put his arm around my shoulder and asked me if I did not want to be religious. I told him that I had always had that desire, that mother had brought me up that way, and really I did not know anything else. Then he wanted to know if I had ever professed religion. I hardly understood what he meant and did not answer him. He changed his question and asked me if I had ever been to the altar for prayer, and I answered him in the negative. Then he earnestly besought me to let him take me up to the altar and join the others in being prayed for. It really embarrassed me and I hardly knew what to say to him. He spoke to me of my mother and said that when she was a little girl she went to the altar and that Christ accepted her and she had been a good Christian all these years. That touched me in a tender spot, for mother always did do what was right; and then I was far away from her and wanted to see her. Oh, if she were there to tell me what to do!
By and by I yielded to his entreaty and he led forward to the altar. The minister took me by the hand and spoke tenderly to me as I knelt at the altar. I had gone more out of sympathy than conviction, and I did not know what to do after I bowed there. The others were praying aloud and now and then one would rise shoutingly happy and make the old building ring with his glad praise. It was a novel experience to me. I did not know what to pray for, neither did I know what to expect if I did pray. I spent the most of the hour wondering why I was there and what it all meant. No one explained anything to me. Once in awhile some good old brother or sister would pass my way, strike me on the back and tell me to look up and believe and the blessing would come. But that was not encouraging to me. In fact, it sounded like nonsense and the noise was distracting me. Even in my crude way of thinking I had an idea that religion was a sensible thing and that people ought to become religious intelligently and without all that hurrah. I presume that my ideas were the result of the Presbyterian training given to me by old grandfather. By and by my knees grew tired and the skin was nearly rubbed off my elbows. I thought the service never would close, and when it did conclude with the benediction I heaved a sigh of relief. That was my first experience at the mourner's bench.
As we drove home I did not have much to say, but I listened attentively to the conversation between my uncle and his wife. They were greatly impressed with the meeting, and they spoke first of this one and that one who had "come through" and what a change it would make in the community, as many of them were bad boys. As we were putting up the team my uncle spoke very encouragingly to me; he was delighted with the step I had taken and he pleaded with me not to turn back, but to press on until I found the pearl of great price. He knew my mother would be very happy over the start I had made. Before going to sleep I fell into a train of thought, though I was tired and exhausted. I wondered why I had gone to that altar and what I had gained by it. I felt no special conviction and had received no special impression, but then if my mother had started that way there must be something in it, for she always did what was right. I silently lifted my heart to God in prayer for conviction and guidance. I knew how to pray, for I had come up through prayer, but not the mourner's bench sort. So I determined to continue to attend the meeting and keep on going to the altar until I got religion.
Early the next morning I was up and in a serious frame of mind. I went with the other hands to the cottonfield and at noon I slipped off in the barn and prayed. But the more I thought of the way those young people were moved in the meeting and with what glad hearts they had shouted their praises to God the more it puzzled and confused me. I could not feel the conviction that they had and my heart did not feel melted and tender. I was callous and unmoved in feeling and my distress on account of sin was nothing like theirs. I did not understand my own state of mind and heart. It troubled me, for by this time I really wanted to have an experience like theirs.
When evening came I was ready for Church service and was glad to go. It required no urging. Another large crowd was present and the preacher was as earnest as ever. I did not give much heed to the sermon. In fact, I do not recall a word of it. I was anxious for him to conclude and give me a chance to go to the altar. I had gotten it into my head that there was some real virtue in the mourner's bench; and when the time came I was one of the first to prostrate myself before the altar in prayer. Many others did likewise. Two or three good people at intervals knelt by me and spoke encouragingly to me, but they did not help me. Their talks were mere exhortations to earnestness and faith, but there was no explanation of faith, neither was there any light thrown upon my mind and heart. I wrought myself up into tears and cries for help, but the whole situation was dark and I hardly knew why I cried, or what was the trouble with me. Now and then others would arise from the altar in an ecstasy of joy, but there was no joy for me. When the service closed I was discouraged and felt that maybe I was too hardhearted and the good Spirit could do nothing for me.
After we went home I tossed on the bed before going to sleep and wondered why God did not do for me what he had done for mother and what he was doing in that meeting for those young people at the altar. I could not understand it. But I resolved to keep on trying, and so dropped off to sleep. The next day I had about the same experience and at night saw no change in my condition. And so for several nights I repeated the same distressing experience. The meeting took on such interest that a day service was adopted along with the night exercises, and we attended that also. And one morning while I bowed at the altar in a very disturbed state of mind Brother Tyson, a good local preacher and the father of Rev. J. F. Tyson, now of the Central Conference, sat down by me and, putting his hand on my shoulder, said to me: "Now I want you to sit up awhile and let's talk this matter over quietly. I am sure that you are in earnest, for you have been coming to this altar night after night for several days. I want to ask you a few simple questions." And the following questions were asked and answered:
"My son, do you not love God?"
"I cannot remember when I did not love him."
"Do you believe on his Son, Jesus Christ?"
"I have always believed on Christ. My mother taught me that from my earliest recollection."
"Do you accept him as your Savior?"
"I certainly do, and have always done so."
"Can you think of any sin that is between you and the Savior?"
"No, sir; for I have never committed any bad sins."
"Do you love everybody?"
"Well, I love nearly everybody, but I have no ill-will toward any one. An old man did me a wrong not long ago and I acted ugly toward him, but I do not care to injure him."
"Can you forgive him?"
"Yes, if he wanted me to."
"But, down in your heart, can you wish him well?"
"Yes, sir; I can do that."
"Well, now let me say to you that if you love God, if you accept Jesus Christ as your Savior from sin and if you love your fellowmen and intend by God's help to lead a religious life, that's all there is to religion. In fact, that is all I know about it."
Then he repeated several passages of Scriptures to me proving his assertions. I thought a moment and said to him: "But I do not feel like these young people who have been getting religion night after night. I cannot get happy like them. I do not feel like shouting."
The good man looked at me and smiled and said: "Ah, that's your trouble. You have been trying to feel like them. Now you are not them; you are yourself. You have your own quiet disposition and you are not turned like them. They are excitable and blustery like they are. They give way to their feelings. That's all right, but feeling is not religion. Religion is faith and life. If you have violent feeling with it, all good and well, but if you have faith and not much feeling, why the feeling will take care of itself. To love God and accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, turning away from all sin, and living a godly life, is the substance of true religion."
That was new to me, yet it had been my state of mind from childhood. For I remembered that away back in my early life, when the old preacher held services in my grandmother's house one day and opened the door of the Church, I went forward and gave him my hand. He was to receive me into full membership at the end of six months' probation, but he let it pass out of his mind and failed to attend to it.
As I sat there that morning listening to the earnest exhortation of the good man my tears ceased, my distress left me, light broke in upon my mind, my heart grew joyous, and before I knew just what I was doing I was going all around shaking hands with everybody, and my confusion and darkness disappeared and a great burden rolled off my spirit. I felt exactly like I did when I was a little boy around my mother's knee when she told of Jesus and God and Heaven. It made my heart thrill then, and the same old experience returned to me in that old country Church that beautiful September morning down in old North Georgia.
I at once gave my name to the preacher for membership in the Church, and the following Sunday morning, along with many others, he received me into full membership in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. It was one of the most delightful days in my recollection. It was the third Sunday in September, 1866, and those Church vows became a living principle in my heart and life. During these forty-five long years, with their alternations of sunshine and shadow, daylight and darkness, success and failure, rejoicing and weeping, fears within and fightings without, I have never ceased to thank God for that autumnal day in the long ago when my name was registered in the Lamb's Book of Life.
.../Quote...
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- Feb 4, 2006
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I was about three years old when my mother, a devout Lutheran, gave me a religious coloring book. One of the pictures showed Jesus surrounded by little children and lambs. My mother said to me, "That's Jesus. He loves you." I immediately got the warm fuzzy's and have been a believer ever since.
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- Nov 28, 2018
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Ever since school, I think my trajectory was headed straight for the cliff edge and for most of my adolescence I lived in a bit of a dream world because the world seemed too scary to acknowledge. I drank my way through my 20's then fell down the rabbit hole in my early 30's. When nothing else made sense and I couldn't find a rock to hold on to, I found Genesis and it explained what 'falling' was. It's been a long climb but the Bible's fishing nets saved me.
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I heard about Jesus at a very early age at in a Church of England church rooted in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. A lot of it I didn't fully understand, but I always believed that Jesus was a very special person and that Christians followed his example. I also believed in God and I believed that he could answer our prayers.
During my teens, I lost interest in matters of faith and didn't go to church at all.
When I went to university for the first time, I made friends with students who attended the Christian Union. They came from a wide variety of different church backgrounds. I went to a variety of churches with the students, of various different denominations (Pentecostal, Anglican, Methodist, Salvation Army). I was inspired by their faith and wanted to know how I could have a relationship with Jesus. They explained it to me, but I just didn't seem to understand it all. The church gave me some literature to read. I took the book home and one evening when I was studying it in my bedroom, I suddenly felt God reveal to me who Jesus was, that he died to take away my sins, and that I could have a relationship with him. I responded by asking Him to come into my life. I did not understand much about the Holy Spirit, but I believe I experienced His presence that evening because I was full of joy and felt that spiritually my eyes had been opened for the very first time.
Weeks and months went by. I continued going to church and my prayer life was something I looked forward to on every occasion.
When the end of the university semester came, we all went our own separate ways to our homes all over the country. In my hometown, I did not have a regular church, did not have any contact with Christians and these were the days prior to social media, mobile phone plans and text bundles. I felt alone. My prayer life slipped and I started to get depressed. Because I had totally based my faith on my feelings, I started to believe that He had rejected me and there was no coming back. I browsed the library, every Christian bookshop, every Bible, every version of the Bible and commentaries to find some peace of mind that God hadn't rejected me, but nothing could convince me. I started to become quite ill. One evening, in a moment of desperation, in my bedroom I went onto my knees and pleaded with God to help me. It is probably the earnest prayer I have ever made in my life and to my complete amazement, the Lord answered that prayer. The Holy Spirit visited me that evening and I felt totally surrounded by the love of God. I felt like a helpless babe that had been embraced by His father. It is an evening I will never forget. Up to that point, I had always dreaded how I would feel the next morning, but the next morning was totally different. I woke up refreshed, confident, and secure in my faith, and felt more able to trust the Lord from then onwards. I started studying the scriptures more, reading Christian literature. I learned more about water baptism and was finally baptised. I learned about the gifts of the Holy Spirit and had my first experience of speaking in tongues. I started to move forward in nearly all areas of my faith.
Years passed. Life at university became progressively more difficult because I realised I had been pursuing the wrong career direction. I was not enjoying the studies anymore and was desperate to find the right career path to follow. Money was running out fast. I gradually began to isolate from people, including my student friends. My prayer life started to slip again as well as my church attendance. Having been part of a university culture, I started to drink more and it was only a matter of months until I developed a problem with it and was drinking alone. The drinking escalated and I found it very hard to stop. I learned through the pain of the following years the value of friendship and fellowship. During that time, I met some of the kindest and supportive friends in the church you could ever make. Although I did not feel abandoned by God, I felt He was more distant than He had been previously. Cutting a long story short, I learned that I had put up my own stumbling blocks through my own self-reliance and self-will. Drinking was a way of managing my own feelings rather than letting God deal with them in His own way. When I finally admitted to God that I needed help and was willing to hand over the problem to Him, the most amazing chapter of my life started. I started to feel like a person who was truly free: free to feel comfortable in my own skin, freedom from drinking, and life took on a new direction. I went back to university to do nursing training and several years later I am now a Clinical Lead in a specialist unit in the UK. More recently, I have began to understand better what it means to have God as our Father, the One who protects us, watches over us and leads us in the right way.
Over my Christian life, I have engaged with Christians of all different walks and backgrounds and I believe this has made me more understanding and tolerant of each others differences. I am equally happy worshipping in a liturgical or charismatic way.
During my teens, I lost interest in matters of faith and didn't go to church at all.
When I went to university for the first time, I made friends with students who attended the Christian Union. They came from a wide variety of different church backgrounds. I went to a variety of churches with the students, of various different denominations (Pentecostal, Anglican, Methodist, Salvation Army). I was inspired by their faith and wanted to know how I could have a relationship with Jesus. They explained it to me, but I just didn't seem to understand it all. The church gave me some literature to read. I took the book home and one evening when I was studying it in my bedroom, I suddenly felt God reveal to me who Jesus was, that he died to take away my sins, and that I could have a relationship with him. I responded by asking Him to come into my life. I did not understand much about the Holy Spirit, but I believe I experienced His presence that evening because I was full of joy and felt that spiritually my eyes had been opened for the very first time.
Weeks and months went by. I continued going to church and my prayer life was something I looked forward to on every occasion.
When the end of the university semester came, we all went our own separate ways to our homes all over the country. In my hometown, I did not have a regular church, did not have any contact with Christians and these were the days prior to social media, mobile phone plans and text bundles. I felt alone. My prayer life slipped and I started to get depressed. Because I had totally based my faith on my feelings, I started to believe that He had rejected me and there was no coming back. I browsed the library, every Christian bookshop, every Bible, every version of the Bible and commentaries to find some peace of mind that God hadn't rejected me, but nothing could convince me. I started to become quite ill. One evening, in a moment of desperation, in my bedroom I went onto my knees and pleaded with God to help me. It is probably the earnest prayer I have ever made in my life and to my complete amazement, the Lord answered that prayer. The Holy Spirit visited me that evening and I felt totally surrounded by the love of God. I felt like a helpless babe that had been embraced by His father. It is an evening I will never forget. Up to that point, I had always dreaded how I would feel the next morning, but the next morning was totally different. I woke up refreshed, confident, and secure in my faith, and felt more able to trust the Lord from then onwards. I started studying the scriptures more, reading Christian literature. I learned more about water baptism and was finally baptised. I learned about the gifts of the Holy Spirit and had my first experience of speaking in tongues. I started to move forward in nearly all areas of my faith.
Years passed. Life at university became progressively more difficult because I realised I had been pursuing the wrong career direction. I was not enjoying the studies anymore and was desperate to find the right career path to follow. Money was running out fast. I gradually began to isolate from people, including my student friends. My prayer life started to slip again as well as my church attendance. Having been part of a university culture, I started to drink more and it was only a matter of months until I developed a problem with it and was drinking alone. The drinking escalated and I found it very hard to stop. I learned through the pain of the following years the value of friendship and fellowship. During that time, I met some of the kindest and supportive friends in the church you could ever make. Although I did not feel abandoned by God, I felt He was more distant than He had been previously. Cutting a long story short, I learned that I had put up my own stumbling blocks through my own self-reliance and self-will. Drinking was a way of managing my own feelings rather than letting God deal with them in His own way. When I finally admitted to God that I needed help and was willing to hand over the problem to Him, the most amazing chapter of my life started. I started to feel like a person who was truly free: free to feel comfortable in my own skin, freedom from drinking, and life took on a new direction. I went back to university to do nursing training and several years later I am now a Clinical Lead in a specialist unit in the UK. More recently, I have began to understand better what it means to have God as our Father, the One who protects us, watches over us and leads us in the right way.
Over my Christian life, I have engaged with Christians of all different walks and backgrounds and I believe this has made me more understanding and tolerant of each others differences. I am equally happy worshipping in a liturgical or charismatic way.
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- Aug 12, 2018
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My spiritual journey started in early 1970's.
I was searching - for meaning of life..
---
I made my commitment to Christ through
"Hour of Decision." - Radio
- Billy Graham ministry.
I accepted Christ as my Saviour and Lord.
----
"Jesus movement" and "Charismatic movement" - during
1970's - had impact on my journey.
---
I have been involved in different camps/denominations.
- During 45+ years..
My reflection is those experiences helped me for more understanding and discernment.
- I am still learning.
----
I seek more of His grace and mercy..as I continue my journey.
Blessings,
I was searching - for meaning of life..
---
I made my commitment to Christ through
"Hour of Decision." - Radio
- Billy Graham ministry.
I accepted Christ as my Saviour and Lord.
----
"Jesus movement" and "Charismatic movement" - during
1970's - had impact on my journey.
---
I have been involved in different camps/denominations.
- During 45+ years..
My reflection is those experiences helped me for more understanding and discernment.
- I am still learning.
----
I seek more of His grace and mercy..as I continue my journey.
Blessings,
Last edited:
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- Jul 2, 2018
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I was not raised in the Pentecostal church. I have been attending a Pentecostal church in my adulthood for over 30 years. But my church upbringing was evangelical protestant. A non-denominational community church with an emphasis on world missions. A stable church that had the same senior pastor for 25 years. Anyway...
In retrospect my conversion was a bit Pentecostal. But it all seemed normal to me at the time. At eight years of age, I didn't know any different. It happened at Summer Bible camp. One of the regular morning chapel services.
The Pastor had given a message and an invitation to receive Christ. He asked that everyone have their head bowed and eyes closed. I was thinking that it was a good thing for all these "lost" kids to receive Christ. My curiosity got the best of me and I was peeking to see who might raise a hand to receive Christ. Just then God tapped me on the shoulder, so to speak, and said, "If you think that's such a good idea, why haven't you done it?" I was stunned by the statement. And it didn't seem strange to me to hear God's voice loud and clear. I didn't even wait for the invitation to go forward to pray with the minister. It felt as if the Holy Spirit lifted me to my feet and I found myself pushing my way past the other kids in my pew to get out in the aisle to head forward.
It didn't occur to me until decades later that the man who led me to the Lord was the son of the man that led my father to the Lord.
In retrospect my conversion was a bit Pentecostal. But it all seemed normal to me at the time. At eight years of age, I didn't know any different. It happened at Summer Bible camp. One of the regular morning chapel services.
The Pastor had given a message and an invitation to receive Christ. He asked that everyone have their head bowed and eyes closed. I was thinking that it was a good thing for all these "lost" kids to receive Christ. My curiosity got the best of me and I was peeking to see who might raise a hand to receive Christ. Just then God tapped me on the shoulder, so to speak, and said, "If you think that's such a good idea, why haven't you done it?" I was stunned by the statement. And it didn't seem strange to me to hear God's voice loud and clear. I didn't even wait for the invitation to go forward to pray with the minister. It felt as if the Holy Spirit lifted me to my feet and I found myself pushing my way past the other kids in my pew to get out in the aisle to head forward.
It didn't occur to me until decades later that the man who led me to the Lord was the son of the man that led my father to the Lord.
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- Jun 30, 2006
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Mum and dad sent me to Sunday School with my older brother,although they did not attend church themselves. I was sent from the age of 4 and joined the Cubs and went through boy scouts to senior scouts. I remember as a 9 year old boy,asking Jesus to come into my heart,when a children,s mission was held. It was a caring United Reformed Church. When I was aged 14,I was Invited to a youth event at the Pentecostal AoG church. It was there that I made a public confession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,as Saviour and Lord. I carried on initially at the Presbyterian Church,but when I asked the minister to be baptised in water,he said that they didn't do that,so when a baptismal service was arranged at the AoG Church,which I was attending in the evening,I asked to be baptised in water there and eventually made it my spiritual home. I am so glad that Jesus loves me and so glad that He is my Saviour and King!
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'You ask me how I know He lives? He lives within my heart!' (A H Ackley)
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I would choose Him again and again.
He is my Heavenly Father and I am His child.
Throughout the highs and lows of my life,
I have walked with Him,
Been carried by Him,
and comforted by Him.
When I did not know how to look after myself,
He looked after me.
When I strayed,
He gently brought me back onto the right path.
In sad times, He has consoled me.
In good times, He has shared my joy.
And when I talk about Him with others,
He is always showing me more,
of his unconditional mercy, love and care.
He is my Heavenly Father and I am His child.
Throughout the highs and lows of my life,
I have walked with Him,
Been carried by Him,
and comforted by Him.
When I did not know how to look after myself,
He looked after me.
When I strayed,
He gently brought me back onto the right path.
In sad times, He has consoled me.
In good times, He has shared my joy.
And when I talk about Him with others,
He is always showing me more,
of his unconditional mercy, love and care.
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Ttalkkugjil
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Ttalkkugjil
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Yes, as a youth.
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I was Christened as a baby in a United Reformed Church. I confessed my faith in Christ as Saviour and Lord,as a teenager,at a youth event at an Assemblies of God Church. As a believer I then followed the Lord through the waters of baptism and went on to grow in grace and be baptised in the Holy Spirit. It is wonderful to love and serve Jesus. Our three children were dedicated as babies leaving them free to decide to follow Jesus and then decide to be baptised in water by total Immersion,as Jesus was.
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