Testimony Share

When I was about 6 or seven my grandmother drove 75 miles every Sunday to take me to church. She made a huge impact on my life.One year later our preacher announced he was moving churches. It was devastating! We mourned and cried, but we eventually settled that feeling. A month later our church burnt down to the ground. Then, if that was not bad enough the church members started blaming each other. So the thought was planted in my mind that that is what church is all about. Our church went into a split and every Sunday we would have a new preacher. So I stopped going to church. I figured that I could fuss and fight with people at home!!!I was nine years old when I stopped going. I went on through my 6th grade year and then, came to the summer part, the part all kids are supposed to enjoy. It was the worst summer of my entire life. My mom passed out one day. She went to the doctor and was told she had carbon monoxide poisoning. Well, that was okay. The doctor said he could cure it. Later test revealed she had eosinophilicgranulomatosis, short for lung disease. It scared my whole family to death. They gave her three years to live. It was that feeling of wanting to do everything with her during those three years, but everytime you looked at her you wanted to cry. It was horrible. At night I would cry myself to sleep almost every night. I did not have any one to talk to her because my dad was always gone, so I just cried myself to sleep.

One of my friends invited me to a movie night, and so being bored at home I went. At the movie night they talked about God’s healing power. This is the night I got saved. It was a wonderful feeling and that night I prayed to God that he would heal her. I prayed it over and over. The next few doctor visits were the same news. Then one day she came home and her x-rays were clear. She had no lung disease! It was awesome. God works in so many wonderful ways. Our minds can not contain his blessings. Jesus is so wonderful!!

It’s with great thankfulness and love that I write what many times before has been attempted regarding the work salvation and deliverance God has wrought in my life. I understand the burden of truth. I know among the body there are wolves. Those who seek to destroy His body and seek to blemish the testimony of Jesus Christ. It is not my intent to bring accusation against Him, or me, or anyone but to declare as I understand it now His good works demonstrated to me and my older brother. This is the first part of my story…

Come and see the works of God; He is awesome in His doing toward the sons of men. [ Psalm 66:5 ]

For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. [ Hebrews 4:12 ]

A Little History

I was born November 1, 1973 in the Tri-Cities of East Tennessee into a Southern Baptist family. My family, although most of my life I’ve viewed as different, in reality considered normal in today’s society. It was during this time, I recall my first encounter with the supernatural.

Sometime during second grade my father had just received custody of me and my brothers from the court and I was returned to my father’s house where I began attending small rural elementary second grade. It was in the fall and I remember missing my friends from my other school deeply. There was a fall festival with lots of games for parents and kids. During this fall festival there was a room for a mystic fortune teller. I entered the room now a darkened chamber. She invited me to sit in a chair in front of her. I was a bit scared and intrigued at the same time, and the lady began telling me things about my life. She told me that I liked a girl named Michelle who had blond hair. I’d recently given her a token of my love and it was something that she coveted. I remember being astonished and stunned, and my heart raced as she began to flip over these large cards and say speak things to me that were to come. I was so amazed that she knew all of that stuff about me. I left the room excited and fearful, but soon forgot about it amongst all the other games that evening.

It wasn’t long until I found a book with a picture very similar to what I had seen in the fortune teller’s room. It was entitled, “Zork” and to my astonishment was a kind of book that you could choose your own outcomes and paths through the story as you read it. These books were made available to purchase through the book clubs and weekly readers the elementary school handed out to all the students. I began to read these books and I really liked the feeling of being able to choose my own path.

I can’t really tell you when or how long but some time between second grade and age twelve I began re-attending our small Baptist community church with my grandmother. I can still remember the feel of her hand on my back as I would lie my head upon her lap and listen to Reverend Tydings speak. He was speaking about God and reading from the Bible. It seemed like grown up stuff to me and I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but I knew what he was saying had to be important because everyone was quiet and listening. One day, near the end of his speaking, his words seemed to reach out and grab me on the inside. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I just knew what he was talking about, I needed it. He beckoned, pleaded for people to come forward and repent. Not many did. I was looking around and didn’t see anyone else. I noticed him looking over the congregation as if trying to find something he had lost. His eyes passed over me, stopped, and began to move again. I was pierced, shaking, and terrified. I didn’t go forward.

Several Sundays passed much like this one where the words of Reverend Tydings gripped my heart as hard as the grip I had on the pew I was sitting in. I walked out one Sunday, knowing I was supposed to go up front.

That evening to my surprise there was commotion in my house about something my sister had just done. Everyone seemed to be glad and cheerful. When I asked what happened she told me she was “saved.” I remember asking what that means and she told me. I knew then that was what Reverend Tydings had been asking people to do at church. My vulnerability was revealed to me and my emptiness yearned for this Jesus. The details are so distant now that I can only remember my dad handing me the telephone after calling up the Reverend Tydings. I answered, “Hello?” and I heard the all to familiar voice on the other end. This time there was joy in his voice. He asked me few questions and I remember agreeing with each. Then I repeated a prayer with him over the telephone, all the while tears flowed. I hung up the phone and my sister came and gave me a hug. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my skinny frame. A feeling I had never felt before on the inside. I was happy.

Years passed by and although I attended church often, participated in the youth group, and even evangelized with the church’s muppet and music group. I never read my bible for more than was required or asked during church, I never prayed. That feeling I had when I was twelve had long since dulled and the old vulnerable, empty, and hurt was again part of my life. The only thing I did consistently was to read the fantasy books I had developed a habit of reading. I’d often pass through book stores looking for the Tarzan books my brother David had often read. One day while doing so I came across a big white covered book with the title “Dragonlance.” The cover looked much like my brother’s books so I thought I’d give it a try and buy it.

I began reading this book as soon as I got home. I couldn’t put it down. I was drawn into this fantasy world and became acquainted with and identified with its characters, their unique strengths and weaknesses, their magic.

By my freshman year of high school, I had read volumes of the books. I consumed them almost every chance I got. It was during this time that I began failing in school, most likely due to all of my time reading these books rather than studying.

My father began putting pressure on me to bring my grades up and do well in school. Often arguments would erupt from letters from teachers or a grade report. I would go back to my books to escape the anger that would rise up inside me when this happened.

One night, something happened. I had a dream of the book I had been reading. I was reading it in my sleep. I remember waking the next day to begin reading that same book only to find in my amazement where I had bookmarked the day before; I had already read within my dream.

I skipped ahead and began reading again. One of the characters was a mage and I didn’t think much of it until now but I considered, “What if dragons and magic were real?” I remember thinking that it could be real and have vanished like the stories I had read about in the bible. It just wasn’t around today. Honestly, I had never really considered the stories of the bible as being ‘fact’ nor did at this age did it dawn on me that they were.

In the book store I would always pass by a section that had books on magical practices and spirituality, so I stopped and found a few and bought them. They seemed very different and I thought it was foolish that anyone would believe them. Yet, I thought to myself… what if. It wasn’t long after reading through them that I found spells much like the ones I had read in my Dragonlance books.

Dreams continued to come to me, some were repetitive like the book ones, others full of lust, and then there were the dark ones. I had a re-occurring dream of me standing in my bedroom, over my body that was lying on the carpet in a massive pool of blood. I had slit my wrist and while I stood looking at my body, my family members would walk into my room as if viewing a body at a funeral.  I could hear them say, “I’m glad he’s gone”, “I hated him”. I never told anyone about these dreams though they stuck with me while I was awake.

Then it happened, I had just received my mid-term grade report and it was littered with F’s and D’s. My dad was furious, and I was feeling hopeless. One Wednesday night, my brother David came into my room to find me reading one of my books. “Want come to church with me tonight?” I looked up to let him know that I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, I had to make myself study. He turned to go and out of desperation , I said, “…Could you ask them to pray for me? Dad and I aren’t getting along.” Then, unlike my brother, he stopped, turned and said, “Well why don’t I pray with you now?” I can’t describe the feeling that rose up in me but it was a sickening feeling and I responded in disagreement. He asked why, and I told him how unworthy I felt to pray with him. He then left the room and returned a few moments later with his bible. He opened it and began reading from Luke 11:11.

All I can tell you next is what I can recall. When my brother spoke the scripture to me, I became almost dumbfounded. Like a sudden lethargy came upon me. Everything was in a haze like state. My brother’s voice became muffled and I remember him looking at me and asking if I’m alright. I responded with, no. Then he reached for me and all of the sudden my ears were filled with what sounded like a thousand voices screaming in my ears with pitches low to a shrieking high. I was flung backward on my bed and shaken violently by an unseen force. On my throat I could feel what seemed like a hand with sharp claws squeezing my throat. I found myself not in control of my body and what seemed like spasms went through my body. My brother had disappeared out of my vision. I was crying and writhing on my bed and my brother appeared from my left, as he had been knocked to the ground. He came and draped himself over my body trying to hold me still. I could hear him saying, “Jesus” but I couldn’t respond. I remember my arms easily lifting him as to push him off of me and hear him say, “In Jesus name.” What seemed like hours and was probably more like a few minutes passed and I came back into control of my body and I was fear stricken and crying. My brother was in the same state. What had just happened to me was unexplainable to both of us at this point. I lost track of the time but that feeling came over me again and the violent shaking started. This happened throughout that night. My brother became my protector that night. As I lay upon my bed in my room, in the darkness beings began to materialize in front of me and spit and curse at me. The voices seemed all too familiar to me as they were the same voices I heard when I would dream. They were speaking hate and death to me.

I have to say there are exact details that are cloudy but because of this event, my brother intent on seeing this stop called an elder of a church he had visited recently. Ed Townshend explained briefly that it sounded like he was dealing with demons. A few days later my brother had arranged for me to meet with Ed Townshend at his home. When I arrived he and his wife welcomed us into their home. The seemed to glow with kindness and peace. After introductions and speaking about the past few days events, they explained to me out of the bible, what had happened to me, they explained salvation, showed me numerous examples of demonic attack, the Baptism in the Holy Spirit and how it empowers a believer to be minister’s of the Gospel and how to combat the power of the Satan.

I wanted to be free from this. I began praying with them and while they were praying, that feeling came upon me again, out of my mouth came words that weren’t my own in hissing and spitting sounds and they began speaking verses from the bible. Then the shaking began again, it was all suddenly and my words now are not enough to explain it properly. When the shaking subsided and I was back in control, they asked me to pray after them a prayer of repentance and denouncement of the things I had been involved in. I did pray with them, they then laid their hands on me and a flood of peace invaded me. I was filled with the Holy Spirit, I began to speak in a language which I couldn’t understand.

My Christian Testimony

Written on May 7, 2007

This section of my testimony was originally written on January in 1995. In October of 1990, “I accepted Christ into my life personally by saying a prayer.” I was 23 years old and today May 14, 2007, I am 40 years old.

At that time of my life I was working at John Lucente’s Barber Shop in Mundelein Illinois. John and Dominick Lucente own and run this shop to this day. They are two Italian men who came over from Italy and opened their shop in their hometown of Mundelein Illinois. The address there is: 452 N Lake St, Mundelein Illinois and their phone number is [removed for privacy].

My life at that time revolved around bars, drinking, and having fun. I met this man Tim Smith through my friend Karen and we started to date. I was living at 39 N Martin in Waukegan Illinois and Tim resided in Crystal Lake (Berkshire Apartments). I traveled to visit Tim Smith most of my free time. My life was self centered, revolved around money, working, my possessions, friends, partying with drinking.

How did I meet the Lord? I was working for John Lucente’s Barber Shop and had developed a clientele. Some of those clients were Christian’s who already knew the benefits that Christ gave by giving your life to Christ. Wayne and Barb Brink invited me over to talk. I am very personal with my career and love customer service; helping others look good and feel good about their hair in a comfortable environment. After work one evening the Brinks invited me over to their house. This was a very low point of my life. I just sat and vented my frustrations out to them. They were so kind and compassionate towards my situation at that time of my life. I felt loved and cared for from their attitude towards me. Being accepted and liked was very important to me and meeting the needs of my customers. They asked if I ever read the “Four Spiritual Laws booklet.” I said that I never heard of it. They sat and read it out loud to me. After reading this I accepted Christ into my life and heart on a daily basis making Christ my focus instead of myself as the focus. After I walked out their door of their home, I felt different.

I did not understand why I read the booklet or what the prayer would do for me. I just obeyed what I was told to do. I would like to share with you this booklet I read:

Bill Bright wrote this version and is president of Campus Crusade for Christ. Originally, Bill Bright prepared it for his staff of his worldwide evangelistic organization. This booklet is simple and easy to read and understand especially to non believers in Christ.

God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life. (John 3:16, 10:10).

Man is sinful and separated from God. Therefore, he cannot know and experience Gods love and plan for his life. (Rom. 3:23: 6:23).

Jesus Christ is God’s only provision for man’s sin. Through him you can know and experience God’s love and plan for your life. (Rom. 5:8, 1 Cor. 15:3-6, John 14:6).

We must individually receive Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord; then we can know and experience God’s love and plan for our lives.

(John: 1:12; 3:1-8).

Or: The Four Spiritual Laws by Bill Bright

You can receive Christ right now by faith through saying this prayer:

“Lord Jesus, I want to know you personally. Thank you for dying on the cross for my sins, I open the door of my life and receive You as My savior and Lord. Thank you for forgiving my sins and giving me eternal life. Take control of the throne of my life. Make me the kind of person You want me to be.”

Does this prayer express the desire of your heart? If it does, pray this prayer right now and Christ will come into your life, as He promised. Your life will be forever changed.

Here are suggestions for Christian growth:

G Go to God in prayer daily (John 15:7).

R Read God’s Word daily (Acts 17:11).

O Obey God moment by moment (John 14:21).

W Witness for Christ by your life and words (Matthew: 4:19).

T Trust God for every detail of your life (1 Peter 5:7).

H Holy Spirit: allow the Holy Spirit to control and empower your daily life and witness

(Galatians 5:16-17 Acts 1:8).

My Christian walk became my mission. I noticed things around me changing as each day passed by. I openly carried a bible I purchased; The Full Life Study Bible. I brought it to work and openly had conversations about God and what He was doing in my life.

I was “on fire” for the Lord. I started reading the Bible, and sharing it with anyone who would listen. I went to bible study groups and my knowledge kept building. I never read the Bible before. Reading the Bible opened my eyes to many new things about Christ that I had not known.

I experienced many new things and my eyes were open to right and wrong ways to live my new life in Christ. My life has changed drastically since I chose to let Christ into my life. I would listen to only Christian radio stations on a daily basis. I learned that I wanted to go to church because I wanted to not because I am forced. Most important, I chose to pray daily for myself and for others.

From the day I was born until October of 1990, my family raised me as a Catholic. I do not judge other individuals faith or walk with Christ. I am sharing my story and what is true for me. When I was working at the Barber Shop in Mundelein, customers would see my Bible and ask questions. It was really awesome that I could share without feeling ashamed, that I was reading the Bible. At this point in my life, I did not like working for my workaholic boss who I believe expected more than I could handle. Dominic treated me very poorly. I would go to work with my new found friend Jesus and worked for the Lord and detached from my boss to make things easier on me. I was there for the customers and Jesus not for money or for my boss. It was difficult but I handled it with the grace of God. I loved my clients but realized that if you are not happy with your job on a daily basis then no amount of money or anything should keep you at that job. Quit and move on because God provides a better opportunity. Once I quit that job after many years of building a client base and traveling from Crystal Lake to Mundelein, the relief and weight was immediately taken off my shoulders. When God closes one door He will open another, always, that is his promise. After I received Christ, many changes took place. My focus turned to reading the bible, getting to know who God really is, his personality, his struggles, his life and how it compared to mine.

My character changed, and I noticed that I was showing more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self control. My old self was Me centered and my new self is Christ centered. I care more for the needs of others than for my own needs. I love to give to others in any way they need. There is no joy in taking from others.

My spiritual hunger kept growing knowing that my ultimate goal in life is to glorify God.

I use to be the type of person that had no mission in life and used activities and busyness to control my life. Once Christ joined me, I turned into the opposite.

My Favorite Song

By Steve Green

What do I possess that you did not give to me?

What mysteries are clear to me that you did not explain?

When did I share Truth I had not received from you?

What good works have I performed that you did not ordain?

Any strength I have, any good I do

Comes from the life I found in You

So in all I am, and in all I do, I give the Glory to You.

How do I express my love and my gratitude?

For all I am and ever will be

All depends on you

Where in the world would I be

Had you not reached out to me

All the good I have in life

Can all be traced to you

From the strength to obey your word when I hear it

To reaching out in love

It’s all a gift of the Holy Spirit,

Coming from above

I give the glory to you.

My name is Pat. Lord thank you for loving me so much that you would send your son Jesus to give his life so that I may live.I know I don’t understand all there is to know about you and never will until you crack the sky with your bright return. Please Father deliver me and find me worthy of your mercy and grace.I have lived such a wasteful and sinful life in your eyesight.You love me so very much Daddy that you left me at my own devices because you and Jesus knew that I would eventually find my way back to you.Thank you,thank you,thank you.

                                                                                                                                                                                    Your son,

                                                                                                                                                                                     Pat

My name is Katherine and I’m 16 years old. My story begins in Oklahoma where I was born and have been raised my entire life. I was the third child in my family. My mother did small jobs here and there but was mostly a stay at home mum while we were growing up. My father a construction worker was hardly home and paid small visits. Being the youngest I didn’t understand the meaning of God and I didn’t understand loss. At the age of 7 I lost  the most important person in my life, my grandfather. At that age it was too hard to understand why he left, all I knew was fresh tears poured down my face and for the first time in my life I felt emptiness in my heart. It wasn’t easy moving on from the loss but even then when I didn’t know God, I knew everything was going to be ok and my grandfather was safe.

At the age of 8 my oldest sibling Matthew started sexually molesting me. I was a child and I didn’t understand what was going on. I can remember though the pain I felt when a finger would penatrate my body and the fear that developed in my heart. The restless nights of waking up and seeing him in my room and remembering my moments of hope to escape for one day by placing a chair against the door. Even now I can’t recall what finally gave me the courage to speak out about what was happening nor do I recall what my parents did. To me now it seems like not much really was done. Outwardly I chose to act as if nothing was wrong but inside my heart was weeping and I was scarred for life.  Time flew by though, the scars forever remaining. I shielded myself from contact and became cautious of my surroundings. It was about a year and a half later I remember seeing my father for the last time. My brother you see, was going to work with him and I went to see him off. My father the one man I thought I knew stood before me with a past of his own that I would have never imagined. I wasn’t aware of him lieing to me and doing things that would later cause damage to my family and myself personally. It’s at these moments I wonder why I never realized how he yelled at my mother and upset her so much. That the reason he hardly ever was around, was because he didn’t ever want to be home. It was at that time in my life I discovered my father had multiple affairs with different women. My brother who was with him not only witnessed seeing him having intercourse with a woman but remembers our father offering him drugs. Turns out on top of the cheating he was a cocaine addict. It was at the moment my mother decided to divorce my father. She has always had her suspicions but now was clearly the furthest she could go being married to the man. He hurt her more than I could ever imagine and left us in a sore spot. We were out shopping and a lady notified my mother that a large sum of money had been spent at JcPenneys and my mother knew it was not her. Turns out my dad was with a woman and knowing my mothers social security number had this woman pose as her and they bought stuff using her money. Not only that but he cleared out our savings accounts and took the money for his cocaine addiction and lifestyle. It wasn’t until I was around 11 years old that my mother finally got the divorce finalized. The man just wouldn’t sign the papers and was running from the law everywhere he went. At one point even he wasn’t allowed to enter Oklahoma without being arrested on the spot. He never even paid child support and if we died I could honestly say he wouldn’t care.

It was at this point in my life that I was confused and broken inside. I hated life and often was depressed and thought of suicide. My mother had a way of always yelling at me and I never understood why she did and when it would all stop. At times I’d cry myself to sleep and think would the world really miss me if I just left. I never had the courage to kill myself though, for some reason there was something holding me back. The yelling continued and I didn’t know who I was anymore. I hated my family and hated God for giving me this life of pain and anguish. But the summer after 7th grade my friend Kelsey insisted I try going to church camp with her. I took her up on her offer and came to see God in a whole new light. Praising Him was beautiful. I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt complete and forever satisified but I did and one evening as the pastor spoke to us and offered the chance for us to finally give our lives to Christ I was moved by something deeper and at that point in time I got up from my seat and moved towards the front of the crowd. God was pushing on my heart and I finally understood that night, when I hated and gave up on Him, He never once left my side and loved me all the same. I came to understand forgiveness and mercy and accepted Christ into my heart that night. I bowed my head and looked deeper and found that I could forgive people for what they had done and I knew my place was to be living my life for Him. From that night forth I have failed and failed again but through the years I’ve found myself connected so deeply to God.

Pain continued to thrive in my life but I had faith for the first time in my whole life. It was this year shortly after my 16th birthday that someone I never thought I would see in my life again came back. My father showed up out of the blue offering my brother work. I was terrifed and shaking and began to have an anxiety attack. I paniced and stayed next door shaking and letting the tears fall. My brother said some harsh words and as he left with my father my dad gave me a hug. I didn’t want him to touch me, no matter if I had forgiven him or not I didn’t have a father most of my life and the man infront of me was no father to me. It was a terrifing experience and one I never expected to occur. See I have the option of not wanting to see him until I’m of age and I fully plan to uphold that. I may have forgiven him, but there was no trust there and I waited for something to occur. Lately things had been getting hectic in life. Only a few months ago  my sister was hospitalized, my grandmother had a stroke, and a cousin of mine hung himself. Everything was taking it’s toll on me and this made it severe.  Since that day back a few months ago I’ve kept a look out. My brother who had left to work with my father was stranded in Arkansas and this didn’t surprise me. Turns out my father was still the same man and very much so still a cocaine addict. His drug dealer was in his hotel room and they both fled in a rental car. I’m not sure what’s happened to him but my brother has returned home again and my mother hates to say this but he isn’t allowed in our home and she has always known in the back of her mind that he has so many qualities just like my dad. It saddens me to see this happen and know the truth but I’ve come to accept what God has put in my path. My mother is now dating and it’s awkward to say the least, but I’m blessed that she has found a happiness that’s been lacking for the better part of over 20 years. I still have down falls and bad things have still been occuring. People are hounding as again about being in debt. The debt which my father caused. My grandmother is uptight and has been complaining about everything and my mother and sister are two individuals who spend most of their time away. My grandmother is the soul source truely of our living and without her love we wouldn’t be living the nice lifestyle we have. My mother is still a strong single mother who strives to help her children even when she too forgets what is important. Though she still remains that woman times have changed. There are no family dinners anymore and to say in the least I feel as if I’m living on my own. There are lonely nights and times when I still feel my soul weep but my soul isn’t empty anymore. God has been my strong fortress since that summer and I’ve continued living my life for Him. I have struggles but I know that through God I can overcome them. I’ve found passions and strive to make a life for myself and others successful. Each day is a beginning and a chance to make a difference. More so I know God has a plan for my life and when I cross each bridge I’ll be thankful and remember things happen for a reason. I’m blessed to be the strong young woman I am today and praying and reading my Bible continue to serve as important parts of my life. More importantly I’ve come to love my family for who they are even in times of anguish and I smile everytime someone finds God. I’m not the only broken soul out there and I may have had a simple life compared to some but deep down I am a broken person but I’ve found God and found a reason to live my life for once. I pray God continues to work through me and I continue to help others find God so that they can know the light I found years ago when I was broken.

I know that there must be people out there who are going through what I have been through.

I was brought up in your typical middle class family. My parents weren’t overly religious but my mother had told me when I was young that there is a God out there and he sent his son to die for us. I thank her for that because that foundation helped me to get saved and it has made me the person I am today.

When I was 5 my family moved from England to Australia. We all really enjoyed it but unfortunately our 2 year visa expired and we had to go back to England. We lost a lot of money doing that and we ended up in a house with bad heating and my Dad had to work long hours for little pay, but it was still enough to get by with. Then my Dad’s situation worsened and he ended up getting depressed. I remember coming home one day after school, my sister went straight to the TV but I went to see my Dad. He was on the bed crying and when he saw me he grabbed me and went hysterical and just kept saying, “What am I going to do, what am I going to do”. I was still young and I didn’t really know about depression so this confused me a lot. Mum found me and quickly took me away from him and told me not to worry and just forget about it. I will never forget.
I used to think back and wonder how things would’ve turned out if my sister had gone to see Dad and I had gone to watch TV. I don’t know, but I have no doubt that things would’ve been different. Seeing something like that changed me and made me realise that I loved my family no matter what.

After 4 years of waiting in England our Australian visa was accepted and because of Dad’s depression we decided to go to Australia. The plan was to get a one-way ticket and just go there to see if we really wanted to live there. My sister never said goodbye to her friends because she was certain she was coming back. Mum was indecisive about the whole thing and she said she only wanted to do what was best for the family even though she wanted to stay in England. Dad wanted to stay in Australia. So far the vote was 1 for Australia, 1 for England and 1 who didn’t mind, so the decision rested on me.

I decided to stay in Australia because I knew Dad would get better here but I never had any idea of what it would do to my sister. I thought a change would be good for us.

Things worked for a while but anger was building up in my sister and when she hit her teens it was like a massive explosion of malice. I guess that’s what teens are like but everyone was just fighting so much, non-stop. Mum and Dad were constantly at each other’s necks and my sister was fuelling it all. They would always turn to me and try to get me on their side but I didn’t want to get involved at all.

Through all this I was growing more and more depressed. Sometimes I would just cry and not know why I was crying. Well I guess the fighting would be one thing to cry about but I was used to it so I don’t think that was why I was crying.

That’s when God came to me.

He was like a little voice in my head that comforted me and joked around with me. He was my friend and even though talking aloud to something that you can’t me may seem a little crazy, I think it’s what kept me sane.

The fighting got so bad that Mum and Dad’s idea of a resolution would be for my mum and my sister to go back to England and my dad and I to stay here in Australia. I didn’t think it was much of a resolution.

My depression was getting worse and even though God was with me I wasn’t saved and I didn’t really know what to do so I decided to kill myself. I never actually got to it because my mum found me all hysterical and crying. She asked me why I was like that and I just told her it was because I missed my friends in England. I’m not sure if she bought it but after that the fighting cooled down, but it didn’t stop. Either way I got a little better. I still get depressed now and again but what can you do, at least I have God to get me through.

A year or two later when I had just hit my teens I was starting to fell really empty. I became depressed again. All I did was just sit in the same spot for hours and stare into the distance. Time really flies when you’re thinking. I tried to find something to fill the hole, to make me feel special. I turned to Satan and witchcraft. I hate it whenever I think back to it. I don’t know what happened. The little voice had gone and I needed something. Anything. I was desperate. I made a promise to Satan that when I was older and had my own place I would completely devote my life to witchcraft. Pretty stupid huh?

I was in a Christian school but I never really got into all that Christian stuff. Not until a year later. I started to call myself a Christian although I was still not saved. The promise still hung over my head. I had a lot of sins; a lot of burdens and it grew heavier every day. Then I just decided to forget about it. It worked for a little while.

When I was about 14 I started to hear things. People screaming and there were two people in particular. A boy and a girl. I’m not sure if they were just memories of a car crash I was involved with because some of the sounds I heard were very similar. I don’t know. I kept hearing them and soon they started to interact with me. They were hostile and the voices would ask me who I was, and what I was doing there… Where ‘there’ is I don’t know. I decided to tell my parents about it. They got worried and wanted to take me to a head doctor. The idea of being a crazy person wasn’t appealing to me at all. I told them not to worry about it. The voices grew worse and I ended up having to shout back at them to go away. Mum and dad got more worried and I didn’t want t be a crazy person so I decided I was going to get proof of the ‘voices’ existence. Getting the proof wasn’t that easy. I had to go on the Internet and look up all these ghost websites just to find out what I was actually looking for.

Time for me was running out and the head doctor was getting closer and I was getting more and more desperate. It ended with my first ever prayer. I got down on my knees and prayed aloud, asking God to help me prove I was not crazy. The next day I got a real big urge to take a photo of my living room so I did. The photo was full of them. Although being stalked by dead people isn’t something to be celebrating about I was sooooo happy. I ran to my parents and showed them the photo. They were terrified but I didn’t care. I was sane! I thanked God so much for that and asked him to save me. He did. After that I completely changed. You would not believe the horrid little selfish wretch I was. I used to obsess over stupid things like money and material things. I was a very practised liar. I could tell a lie with such wide-eyed conviction no matter how crazy it seemed and people would believe me.

I changed and because of God the hole in my life was filled. I was so filled I was bursting at the seams. All of my burdens and sins were lifted and I just felt so refreshed and clean. Something I hadn’t felt for a long time. Choosing God was the best thing I have ever done and I am so glad he chose me.

But… That picture I took opened something for me. As well as hearing them I also started to see them. I’m not going to say much about it except for the fact that a great deal of them were hostile and I have been grabbed by them a couple of times. I used to like them. I thought they made me special and they do I guess. It’s definitely different but I realised God would never put me in a dangerous situation like this and my ability to see these people was given to me from a different power. I remembered back to my promise. Satan knew he was loosing me so he decided to give me what I had asked for years back. I wanted to be special, to be different. This was far too much. I don’t need to see dead people to feel special because I know that when I die I will have much greater abilities. I’ll have wings for one. And I have and always will have God to call on to protect me. So that’s what I did. Every night I found myself having to call on God to shield me from the evil spirits that wanted to get at me. Satan’s plan had back fired. Something he used to try to sway me to his side actually brought me to God. In your face Satan!

I still see them now but not as much. I still call on God every night to protect me and he always delivers. Even though I’ve been through some pretty bad stuff I would not change it for anything. It has made me who I am today and for anyone who is going through a hard time I will tell you the same verse that gets me through hard times.

Romans 5:3-5 ‘But that’s not all! We gladly suffer, because we know that suffering helps us to endure. And endurance builds character, which gives us hope that will never disappoint us.’

At the end of the day it is God’s love that will get us through anything!

Thank you for reading my testimony

I was sexually molested for years as a young child. It began with my father coming into my room at night when I was just a toddler. I’m cursed with an excellent memory, and the first time I can remember being molested by my father took place in the living room of the house I moved out of when I was three. My father also had a friend who lived with us on and off, known to my brothers and I as “Uncle”. He also participated in the sexual abuse. When I was about 8, he stopped.

And though he stopped physically touching me, it seemed as though it never stopped. I would have nightmares about the abuse starting again. At twelve, I began dating older guys and experimenting sexually with them, because I had no idea what a normal interaction should be between a girl and guy. Whenever I was with a guy, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was really my father touching me. I had sex with a guy who was 18 when I was 12 and 13, and cried everytime.

I entered highschool, I began seeking God. I went to a youth group type thing, and learned some about God and Jesus and the christian story. I had a very abstract idea of God, and was interested, but wondered how I could get past the hurt.

But even 6 years after the abuse stopped, I could still feel my father’s hands touching me every second. I was constantly being violated. Freshman year my father went to jail for selling drugs, but even though he was out of my life, he still followed me around. It haunted me to the point that I decided all convicted molesters should be given the death penalty so that maybe a victim could relax.

I spent many nights unable to go to sleep, the scenes of my father molesting me running through my head like a movie relentlessly, how one ususally gets a song stuck in his head.

But one night, I suddenly no longer had my father’s violating, poisonous hands running over me, but the gentle, healing hands of God, letting me know that He was there, and was replacing the feelings that had burdened me for so long. I fell asleep in God’s arms that night. He filled that tiny, gaping hole inside of my soul, and I’ve found a permanent safe home within his hands.

He Saves Me From ME

By:

Michael Edward Moore

May, 2007

michaelsav2004@yahoo.com

And this is a picture of baptism, which now saves you by the power of Jesus Christ’s Resurrection.

1 Peter 3:21a (NLT)

I think Jeremy Camp says it best when he sings how God blessed the broken road that led him to Jesus! When I hear those lyrics I cannot hold back the tears. I am so amazed that after everything this world has tossed at me thus far, I can abide in his love and experience a peace that truly is beyond understanding. I consider this text to be a prime example of just how much God loves us. All of us!

As I ponder the direction the Holy Spirit may take me during the course of this writing, I must tell you that there are many dark seasons of my former life. I asked God in prayer that he bring to my remembrance anything he deems worthy of documenting. It’s a good thing he didn’t give us a spirit of fear because I would be white-knuckled on this keyboard right now afraid of finding something out about myself I really didn’t want to know. But that’s just how God works. He searches our hearts!

I am one of those people that just can never seem to find their place in this world. As I glance back over my life I cannot recall a time when I truly felt comfortable. It was like comfort was right there within my grasp every step of the way. But this comfort must have been greased down royally, because every time I stretched far enough to wrap my fingers around it, it slipped quickly out of my dirty palms. I would forget about it for a short while, then start romanticizing the thought of comfort once again. Then as usual, those thoughts turned into action and I was chasing comfort a little more aggressively than before. This pattern repeated itself for all of the 43 years of my earthly life that I am able to recall. Insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again but expecting the different results. I could probably jump right from here straight to the point where I finally became willing to lose my life for Jesus and tell you how everything else truly is rubbish compared to knowing him. But I feel driven to lay my life down on paper for the Glory of God. Once I complete the final chapter of this book I plan on leaving my past behind me for good and focusing on the wonderful life that lies ahead.

I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me. No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

Philippians 3:12-14 (NLT)

This book is dedicated to my loving mother, Bonnie L. Moore, without her prayers, I would not be alive today to relay the love of Jesus Christ.

And to my devoted dad, Russell E. Moore, who, because of her prayers, gave his life to the Lord just days before passing on their 49th. Wedding Anniversary!

Praise be to GOD!See ya soon mom & dad!

East Concord Vermont. My childhood stomping grounds. I was four years old when mom and dad bought the house there. I don’t remember anything prior to living there. It was a very small town in the northern part of the state. Very secluded. Very cold. But I was a kid. The cold didn’t bother me. Snow, and lots of snow, is packed full of fun when you are a kid. But then again, when you live on a 93 acre chunk of wilderness in the middle of nowhere, from October to June about all you see is snow. Our house was an old two-story clapboard box with a basement. It overlooked a scenic valley and had lots of rocks in the yard. Big rocks! Rocks that had to be mowed around and over during the 2 months or so yearly when you could see the grass. Neighbors were few and very far between. I have no idea what the population of East Concord was at that time. Somewhere around 250 I would imagine. Looking at modern day aerial photographs I doubt very seriously if that area has grown at all. I think I may see a new mobile home or two on the aerial maps. School was about a mile away in the center of town if you could call it that. It was a four room wooden building that contained grades K-6. If I recall correctly, there were 14 other kids in sixth grade along with me. My sister Sharon is 7 years older than me. She attended a high school in Concord Vermont, one of the neighboring towns. My sister Regina is seven years younger than me. I don’t recall her going to school while we lived there. My mom stayed at home and hand laced shoes. That was a tough job. I can remember her hands being blistered, Callas ed, and bleeding from pulling those laces for so many years. She worked so hard. Once the shoes were laced, they would be placed in these plastic bins and taken to the shoe factory and exchanged for another batch. Dad was also a hard worker and I recall him having a couple of different jobs at that time including working at a paper mill and driving a dump truck. I have no brothers. I wish I had grown up with a brother. As I watched my boys grow up I often wondered what it would have been like.

My best friend during that time was a girl my age named Mary Jo. Mary Jo and her parents, John & Frances, lived the closest to us. It was about a quarter of a mile away. Mary Jo was the only child living at home and her and I soon were hanging out all the time. Her mom and dad really liked me and I felt like I was part of their family. They would take me along on camping trips, snowmobile outings and just about anything else that Mary Jo wanted to do. I have a lot of fond memories about Mary Jo. I also remember her dad catching us in the woods together with our pants pulled down rubbing butt cheeks. I guess that was what we thought sex was at age nine. I cannot remember what either of our punishments were but I do remember never trying that again. There were a few other kids that I would ride bikes with, go skating, fishing or sledding with but it was Mary Jo and I that hit it off the best. Her mom was the school cook. She would always be cooking something at home too, or canning vegetables, or making preserves. Her dad was a mill worker. He was always busy doing something around the house, chopping wood, gathering sap from the maple trees, tilling the garden or just piddling. It was a comfortable environment.

My home was comfortable too, most of the time. My mom was a very good mother. She always made certain that we were warm, well fed and she always showed her love towards everyone. She attended the local church every Sunday. At first I went with her. I even sang in the choir. But that didn’t last long. I decided that if my dad didn’t go to church then I didn’t have to. Dad on the other hand seemed to always be angry. He worked hard and drank a lot. Beyond that I don’t have many memories of sharing time with my dad. He was raised to believe that his only role was to take care of the outside of the house and to bring in a paycheck. We all went out of our way not to make him mad. Things were kept secret from him. Mom would do anything to avoid him getting angry. I don’t blame dad for this. His behavior was just the by product of his own childhood. I guess that’s why the thought of growing up with a brother seems so appealing to me. I never could relate with my dad. I could never go to him with questions or get advice. I grew up without a male role model and in hindsight that became a major hindrance in the years that followed.

Mom and dad would often have friends over on the weekends to play cards. I remember seeing them all, with the exception of mom, drinking and laughing and it became apparent to me that this was the way to find comfort. I used to sneak sips of dad’s beer when he wasn’t looking and occasionally he’d share one with me. It would soon become the only thing we had in common. It was about this time, when I was in the 6th grade that I became aware of marijuana. I found a couple of joint roaches in one of my oldest sisters friends car and took them to school. I smoked them with one of my buddies during recess and viola a new romance begins.

The summer following sixth grade mom and dad decided to sell the house and move. We moved to Littleton, New Hampshire. Not a big city by any means but compared to East Concord it seemed like L.A. Little did I know at the time but that was my first experience with separation from people I had built a relationship with. But I made friends quickly in Littleton and soon became popular. We lived in a part of town called Apthorpe. Many of my buddies lived in that area and we made quite a crew. We were the Apthorpians! We were the baseball team, the basketball team, the football team, and the troublemakers. I fit right into that crowd because most of them lived in similar family situations. That part of the world is tough country. Jobs are few. The weather is brutal and typically the men drink like crazy when they are not working. We Apthorpians discovered real quickly how much booze we could gather if we all just pinched out of our dad’s liquor bottle every now and then. We would camp out and get trashed then usually raid some cop cars with snowballs or something crazy. I had several girlfriends as we were the bad guys and even back then that seemed to attract the girls. It was fun. By then smoking pot was the thing to do and I even recall taking speed a few times. Worst of all, a friend of mine and me discovered what kind of rush we could get from huffing gasoline. That had to cause some serious brain damage. We did it so much I am surprised we didn’t overdose. I was staying buzzed most of the time when I wasn’t in school or playing sports. I was pretty good at football and baseball. We had a good team. We were loyal. I wish my dad had come to see just one game.

There was one game dad got involved in. It was homecoming day. We were playing one of our biggest rivals. Plymouth. It was a varsity game but a few of us J.V.’s were asked to dress out just so it appeared like we had a larger squad. I remember leaving home that morning with my parents convinced that’s where I would be. On the way I ran into one of the other J.V.’s who not surprisingly had some good weed. We figured it would be a lot more fun to get stoned and flirt with the girls that were attending from out of town. I have to admit, it was more fun. Right up to the point where we discovered a car window down and a purse lying on the seat. Temptation. Take the purse. Get some money. Buy some girl an ice cream. Yeah, what a great idea! Not. We got somewhere around $40 from that purse and we were downtown on Main Street living it up within minutes. Within minutes after that we were in jail. The coach of all people had seen us do it. No charges were filed. They just called our parents to come pick us up and of course we had to work to pay back the money.

I would have rather spent a few nights in jail than face what was about to happen when we got home. My dad was so angry. He kept screaming at me. Telling me what a worthless piece of crap I was. That I was a thief and a liar. He knocked me around a few times until I hit the floor. I remember he kept kicking me in the head and telling me that I would never amount to anything. That didn’t stop that night either. He woke me up at 5 am for a week and had me doing everything from shoveling snow, cleaning the basement or chopping wood. That incident may have blocked any future chance of dad and I ever bonding. It was quite some time before I ever even thought of stealing anything again.

Life was pretty good though. Lots of friends. Lots of parties. Lots of things to do outside. Camping, water skiing, hiking. New Hampshire is beautiful country. I was very close to being comfortable. But as you know, comfort and me can’t seem to dwell in the same place, so low and behold, now we are moving to Savannah. Bye bye school. Bye bye friends. Bye bye mountains and camping and hiking. Bye bye everything in my world at the time.

Next. Culture shock. From an all white small town to Savannah, Georgia. Plunged instantly into an atmosphere completely unlike anything I had ever experienced. I started school right away even before making a friend. School was hot. No air conditioning. It was so crowded and I talked funny. Not to mention that the black to white ratio was about 70-30. I had hardly ever even seen a black person and now I was smack dab in the middle of what seemed to be an urban jungle. I hated it. I showed up for football tryouts on the third day. Me, another white kid and what seemed like 200 black kids. I couldn’t even understand what the coaches were saying. Football wasn’t going to work. Nor was any other sport. So being a jock was out of the question. That left the motor heads, the geeks, and the potheads. Nice guess. Pot heads. We smoked before, during, and after school. Everyday. Mom would give me $1 for lunch each morning and that would buy a joint in front of the school. Four or five of us would circle up and we have that many joints going at once. It was the life. School sucked. I was such an outcast. I couldn’t even speak the white kids lingo. Walking around stoned out of my mind seemed like the only way to come close to comfort.

My after school life soon turned into nothing but partying, and working to support that hobby. It was so easy to drink and get dope. But I didn’t just get a little buzzed. I was getting blackout drunk almost every night. I remember feeling so guilty when I would come home at night. Mom would be waiting up on the couch for me just to see what kind of shape I was in and to make sure I got in OK. She would just shake her head and go off to bed. I made a few party buddies but never really bonded with anyone. I had little self-esteem. I got that from dad I know. I have never met anyone as depressed and down on himself as dad was at this point. I couldn’t please anyone. Mom was disappointed in me, dad was pretty much just waiting for me to move out and all I wanted to do was get high.

The summer of my junior year I was asked to come work on a survey crew. This was kind of fun for me. Most of the time we were in the woods and I think that helped remind me of home a little. I was drawing a fairly good wage for my age and that assured money to party with. And party I did. I managed to save enough money to buy a motorcycle though. I had to be cool. I was trying to fit in. Going into my senior year I was fed up with school. They were so far behind the schools in New Hampshire. They were trying to teach me things in 11th grade that I had already learned in the 8th. I managed to maintain about a C average even though I was skipping most of my classes. This lasted right up until Christmas break. The surveyor asked me to come work during my off time and I jumped on it. In fact, I was so glad to be working that I asked him for full-time employment and never returned to school. It was time to be a man.

Finally, 18 at last. It’s time to move out. One of my party buddies and I got a two-bedroom apartment on the opposite side of town from mom and dad. It was a blast. We partied so much. We both had girls in and out of the apartment and stayed messed up. Buy this time I had a car, a sport bike and a dirt bike. I was making money, partying hard and having sex with whatever girl could put up with my drunkenness. From an external viewpoint I appeared to really be on the ball. The truth is I was miserable. Uncomfortable.

I was still unable to make any real connections with anyone. Maybe I was afraid of being kicked in the head? My roommate was kind of a spoiled kid. He was driving a Gold T-Top Trans Am. His parents had money and we often would take his dad’s yacht out on party cruises. One night we were out cruising River Street, drinking and snorting cocaine and got chased by the cops. We were the Dukes of Hazard. Although I don’t ever recall the Dukes of Hazard crashing into a power pole. We did. Hard. My face smashed through the windshield. Neither of us had any major injuries although I did have to go to the hospital and allow then to remove all the fragments and slivers of glass from my face. I have those ugly scars to this very day. But they didn’t find the coke. I convinced the cop to allow me to urinate behind a building while we waited on the ambulance. I buried the bag of powder in the alley only to return for it after being discharged from the emergency room. Once again, reaching for that comfort.

My desire to stay intoxicated was getting out of control. I began to rack up DUI’s and other serious violations. I would outrun the cops on my Ninja frequently and drove like a maniac. I wrecked that bike after drinking all day at Tybee then attempting to drag a knee on the big curve leaving the island. More scars. I suffered through several car and bike accidents. I would sometimes get into fights and often would pass out in bars or fall down stairs. I was falling apart and couldn’t even see it. Nor did I have any close enough friends to alert me of where I was headed. I was not thinking clearly at all. I was headed nowhere fast. Then something would happen that would have great impact on my life. Her name is Edwina.

She hopped on the back of the Ninja one hot summer day at the beach. She was wild. I liked it. She was far from the type of woman I had imagined myself to be with but I liked her promiscuity. We ended up moving in together and it wasn’t long after that, she was pregnant. I wasn’t ready for this. I was scared. I wanted to walk away. I fought the decision to marry her for a long time and my parents convinced me that it was my moral obligation. I needed to take responsibility for my actions. Edwina was 7 months pregnant when she walked down the isle.

I could change her. I knew I could. I could mold her into exactly the woman of my dreams, so I thought. When Joshua was born things changed. He was so cute. I now had a brand new life to look out for. This helped me to take my focus from myself. I began taking my career more serious and almost felt comfortable. Edwina stayed home with the baby and I worked. We still partied all the time. I was growing to love Edwina so I thought. The only thing that aggravated me was that she was no housekeeper. She didn’t like to clean, decorate nor make the house feel warm and cozy. I didn’t understand at the time that this was not her sole responsibility.

We moved around a couple of times and it was beginning to look like comfort may one day be achievable. I was in pursuit of my Professional Surveying License and it seemed as though I would be making really good money in the near future. Soon Edwina was pregnant again and we were on our way to having two boys two years apart. We moved into a rental house on Wilmington Island. It was comfortable, almost. Money was tight and I was working very hard. After all, that’s what I was taught to do. Another two years pass and we are pregnant once more. My daughter Paige was born to us and that seemed to be the blessing we needed to hold things together. Financially it was tough but they were all such good kids it made home life again, almost comfortable.

In the fall of 1992 I was accepted to take my Professional Surveyor’s Exam. I passed the test with flying colors and it looked as though I was about to get a substantial raise and that would relieve some of the pressure. I did in fact get a raise. Fifty cents an hour. Now there’s a breakthrough. I went to my supervisor with a sincere complaint and his response was, if you don’t like it quit. I went home furious, sat down, considered his advice, and typed up my resignation letter. With $300 in my checking account I walked out determined to start my own business. Surely comfort resides there.

Dad volunteered to be my helper and generously loaned his pickup truck as our first survey vehicle. Moore Land Surveying was up an running. Work started slow but steady. About seventy percent of the work we did the first couple of years was construction layout. Building roads and parking lots. It was very hard, hot work. I felt sorry for dad but I also realized he was doing everything he could to help me succeed. There was one particular contractor that liked my work and I admired his honesty. It was a win-win situation.Things progressed along well and I had managed to build a solid reputation in the industry.

The kids were growing so fast. They were so much fun. Life was good. I have to admit, it was comfortable. The small house we were renting was getting crowded. We began looking for a home that we could afford and more importantly, get financing for. Then one day along came yet another blessing. Edwina found a house in Wilmington Park. A big house. Wilmington Park was a pretty prestigious place to live, especially at our age. Owner financing. You gotta love it!

Home sweet home. It was really nice. The picture perfect home. Self-employed, home office, big house, community pool, good schools. The American Dream. I was at the top of my game, or so I thought. The business was bringing in money but it also brought with it unforeseen troubles. The drinking and pot smoking were still a big part of my life. I was smoking pot during the day while surveying, then I would come home, smoke some more, and drink a dozen beers or so while sitting at the computer. So many times I remember pausing long enough to go tuck the kids in only to find out they have been in bed for hours. Work was consuming me and when it wasn’t, I was consuming beer. The working man’s ’southern’ comfort!

It was my world. I created it. Surely the rest of the world spun around me. It had to. I tried to stay as active as possible in the children’s activities and encourage them. We laughed a lot. But what I did not see happening was Edwina growing unhappy. I was under that impression that my duties entailed bringing in the money and taking care of the outside of the house. I did those things. Quite well if I may say so. But a home is much more than outward appearance. A home is that warm fuzzy feeling you have the moment you walk through the front door. Home is the pictures of your children as they grow up, proudly displayed on the walls. Home is chasing the kids through the sprinklers while the burgers are burning. Home is being around the ones you love and that love you back. Home is belonging. Home is comfortable.

I should have found a healthy outlet. Along with the business came the stress and worry. Why didn’t I play golf? Fishing? Hunting? Biking? Anything? Because I didn’t fit in. Growing up in south Georgia and not being a sportsman is not conducive of building meaningful relationships. The only people I spent time with were the drinkers and smokers. More trouble. One of the things about my life that I now realize; is that when I do something wrong, or out of line, I always get caught. No matter what. I continued racking up traffic violations. My drinking was out of control. One of the worst side effects of my drunkenness was the beast within me would rare his ugly head. Where was all this anger coming from? I had it all. But I would get drunk and say mean and hateful things to Edwina. Often I wouldn’t even remember what had been said the next morning. Even worse yet, there were times when my children witnessed this behavior. As much as they looked up to me when I was sober, now they had to see that wicked side of me that only had courage enough to lash out in drunken foolishness. Alcohol was destroying my life one drop at a time. I still couldn’t see it. Both friends and family began to notice. Some of them even tried to talk to me about it. But I always could find justification for my actions. Still, somehow I managed to keep the outside of my life looking desirable.

Nineteen ninety seven. Edwina and I had grown apart. That was evidenced by the constant arguing, separation and lack of intimacy. I remember thinking that we needed to take a break for a short while but I never expected what was about to happen. We decided that I should go stay at my sisters for a few days. So I packed some clothes, grabbed a few files, and a pillow. Next day, divorce papers. Next day, move as much of my office as could possibly fit into a small, spare bedroom in my sister’s apartment. Next day, nothing. Stunned, frozen, drunk.

Loosing traction. Momentum gaining. When did brick walls become invisible? Self employed, pocket full of money, wrong god. I wanted another chance. Too late. He had been a friend of mine, sort of. Joshua’s best friends dad. I Should have seen it coming. But if you can’t see a brick wall how could you possible see that? I missed home. I was very uncomfortable. Functioning enough to keep the company afloat and spending time every other weekend with kids, I managed to keep my head out of the mire. I was completely miserable. Dangerously drunk when ever possible. Things only got worse from there.

After much negotiation during the divorce process, I was awarded to keep the house. It was a nice arrangement because the kids could walk from their mom’s house to mine. They still had their own rooms. It worked. But twenty eight hundred square feet is much too much space when they were gone. I didn’t want to stay home anyway. It was too empty. Other terms of the divorce settlement, my lifestyle, the house payment, workload, they were all taking their share of the toll. A few meaningless relationships, bad decisions, and unforgiveness left me alone. Very alone. Seeds sown in the wrong soil. Huge harvest.

One evening, sitting at my desk, staring, as usual, out the window. Something began churning in my stomach. Moments later, I am in tears. Bawling. What had happened to me? What had happened to my life? Mom called. She knew I was crying. I’ll be right there she said. Covered plate in hand and fresh sweet tea, mom was there in a flash. What an encourager she was. Always building me up. Always forgiving. Always giving everything she had to everyone she met. The right words at the right time. The right words for me, for that time, as she so eloquently spoke them, want to go to church? It starts in forty five minutes. What timing. Caught in a vulnerable moment. How could I say no? I didn’t.

Back row, of course. Wondering how could they possibly sing that many songs? Hands in the air, banners waiving. Strange noises coming from what seemed to be hidden parts of the room. Talk about fear and trembling! Somehow there seemed to be a rhythm about the place though. There was a guest speaker that night. I can’t recall his name. That was the only time I have ever seen him. He was a big guy with a very deep voice. About five words into his message, more bawling. Every word that man spoke was a picture of my life. It was amazing. That was the very first time I could actually feel God calling me. There was no holding back when the alter call came. In tears I repeated the sinners prayer and received prayer. The whole church was celebrating. That was mom’s church. I had been on that prayer chain for a very long time. I felt different indeed. Like a weight had truly been lifted. I was told to read my bible and we’ll see you next Sunday. Sounded good to me.

I searched for every verse in the Bible I could find that talked about alcohol. The wine stuff, you know. I had to find justification. I found a few and even tried to use them on occasion. But the truth of the matter is that I didn’t really feel any different. Same life pattern. Same downward spiral. What was this force that seemed to be causing me to swim upstream? Why were my meek little prayers not being answered? Wasn’t I saved? Why didn’t I know about Satan? I thought Jesus took care of him.

My curiosity about the bible lingered in the background but soon I was uncomfortable with church. But then again, I was uncomfortable with everything. Nightlife and child support proved to be very hungry and I found myself struggling to function work wise, enough to sustain. The house payment was twelve hundred dollars monthly. I had some serious debt issues, solution; sell the house. Bad mistake. More separation. From that point on I have not lived in any location for an entire year. On the move. Seeking comfort. Avoiding debts. Falling without vision. Alone. I wish I had known about Ecclesiastes 4:12 back then. The Message Version says this: “By yourself you’re unprotected. With a friend you can face the worst. Can you round up a third? A three-stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.” Fellowship is so important. But alone I was. Satan had me so blinded I could not see a way out. Opening the bible only on rare occasions, I was still wondering, where was God?

I was stumbling around in downtown Savannah one night and happened to see a small corner office with an apartment also for rent. So I made the not-so-brilliant decision to move to party central. Downtown. Wright Square. By this time I had abandoned just about everyone in my life. Cocaine was my best friend now. Running my business in the ground during the day and staying up all night spending the revenue. I was so far in debt. Suicide was not too far out of the question. I even concocted a plan to try and flee the country. However I was incompetent to achieve much more that dream unachievable dreams. Darkness and doom were upon me. It was what I somehow felt I deserved. Held within the prison I had created. Me.

My appetite for cocaine eventually introduced me to crack cocaine. The devil’s candy. The slippery slopes I had been sliding down for the last 8 years instantly became an avalanche. It was the only thing I desired. And apparently I was willing to sacrifice almost anything necessary to acquire it. Crack starting taking my keys. The first keys it took were the keys to my office. That didn’t really surprise me. I had let my business go along with all my clients. They depended on me. I could not focus on much of anything anyway, especially work. I leased a storage unit and packed as many things from the office as I could. Computers, furniture, files. Irreplaceable data and maps. I sold or pawned a few things. Had to sow more seeds. I kept my little red Dakota though. I loved that truck. I would drive that little truck aimlessly anywhere. It was the one thing I owned in full. Just made the last payment.

When I say aimlessly I mean literally. I would be so paranoid while high that I would try my best to get away from everything. It was like I was being lead somewhere. I would be way out in the country somewhere. Lost. No street signs. Dirt roads. I would drive for miles only to find a dead end. A lot of dead end roads. But I felt less fear. Fear of being found out. Fear of being arrested. Fear of getting shot in a bad deal. Fear of running out. Drive back. Repeat.

Too much driving. Not enough water. In the truck that is. Cracked block. The repair fee was more than I could afford. But I got some cash on the trade-in. Satan got the keys. Dad loaned me his little pickup until I could find a good used one. That’s what the trade-in money was for, right? Why could I never listen to advice? Who needed a vehicle anyway? I could walk anywhere I needed to be. It was soon after this that it became very clear that I was under a very strong spiritual attack.

Here’s how I know:

Almost every time I purchased drugs it was from the same guy. I’d be out in the truck driving around, call him and surprisingly he was always just right around the corner no matter which side of town I was on. A few lights back. Just pull over, he’d say. I’ll be right there. Unreal. Then later, when I had moved downtown, and lost the truck keys, I called him while on foot, for the first time. Shockingly he said, I am on foot tonight, where are you? I said Broughton and Bull. He said, me too. when I looked up, there he was! That really got me thinking hard. But just thinking, that’s it. No prayer. No Word. No help. It just made loosing the whole truck thing seem meaningless now. Everything I needed was right around me. Wow. What an absolute lie that was.

Be Careful! Watch out for attacks from the Devil, your great enemy. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for some victim to devour.

1 Peter 5:8 (NLT)

I could not keep a job. I would clean up, work until I got a big paycheck, then disappear for five or six days. Dad soon came and got his truck back. Rent was still due at my apartment. A few months worth of rent as a matter of fact. Landlords usually don’t approve of a tenant falling that far behind. Mine didn’t either. Bye-bye apartment keys. I re-shuffled the storage unit a little and managed to get some more of my belongings in there with everything else. Now just about all that I owned was in that unit.

I guess you already know what keys he was about to get next. Dad called me one afternoon to inform me that my unit was included in tomorrow’s auction. Oh yeah. I was supposed to be paying that. I managed to show up with one hundred and eighty seven dollars in my wallet. Hoping not to be recognized, my plan was to buy some of my own most cherished possessions back. I had never been to an auction of this type. They would open each unit and spread things out on tables. Everyone would bid on individual items or boxes of items. I just knew that with my cash on hand I could get some of my stuff back when it came to my unit. What a very hot, long day. Wouldn’t you know it, my unit happened to next to last on the list. I wish it had been last.

Before they got to the next to the last unit, the auctioneer made this announcement: Folks, it’s late, and it’s hot. In the interest of time the remaining units shall be offered as a lump sum to the highest bidder. Great. When the door rolled up you could almost hear an “aaahh” from the spectators. My unit was quite colorful. Outdoor gear, office machinery, clothes, beds, survey equipment. Pictures of kids and family. Heir looms. Every document I owned. All my files. All my business records. Everything I owned.

The bid started at one hundred and fifty dollars. My arm was the first up. That was my only bid. Unbelievable. I was devastated. I thought surely after the crowd cleared I could make a deal with the proud new owner of my life’s accomplishments. Can you believe that he wouldn’t even consider. He was way too curious what those boxes really contained. I guess the tears rolling down my face didn’t bear much of an effect. After all, he had to make certain he could make a gain on his two hundred and seventy five dollar investment. I watched him load his pickup, including trailer, with my belongings. For lack of room he left one box behind. That one box contained some very sentimental photographs, some miscellaneous odds and ends, and my Message Bible. Looks like I’ll be traveling light for a while.

The brick walls were easy to knock down by now. Maybe I wasn’t knocking them down? Maybe that’s what kept leading me so far away from everyone? Maybe I was really trying to just get around those walls? But the reality is that it still didn’t matter. I wanted to smoke crack. I didn’t want to smoke crack. I wanted God to know me. I wasn’t seeking for him. Satan had me. My life was in the same pattern of working long enough to get paychecks. I began living in a pay-by-the week motel and riding the buses. It was so embarrassing to be seen at the bus stop by some of my former clients, friends, and family. Every one of my thoughts, therefor, every action was relative to smoking crack. A one track mind. It was only a matter of time before even keeping my room paid up was an impossibility.

I had one dollar in my pocket when I walked out of that room. Dragging what clothes I had with me. I jumped a bus to The Department of Labor office in Savannah. I wanted to use the Internet. I had to find shelter. My search turned up a place called The Old Savannah City Mission. Hot meal. A shower. A place to rest and think. Formulate a plan. It was a long walk with all that luggage. Not to mention that I honestly could not recall the last time I had been asleep or eaten. I was so very beat down. Going to a homeless shelter? Me? This cannot be happening to me. Look at everything I used to be.

The rules of the shelter were you had to be in by six o’clock and get ready for Chapel. Chapel was always entertaining. But one thing is for sure. They do believe in the Word. I read a little but could not seem to ever get focused.. After service was chow time. It was a great meal. Next you had to shower then you had a few minutes in your bunk before lights out. Wake up was at six AM sharp. Breakfast was served then out the door you go until the next night. Some went to work. Some wandered the streets. And some went to the library. I chose the library. I posted an online resume and waited. Outside the library was a shady little park with benches. Several of us homeless guys would sit around, roll up cigarettes in Bugler papers and find out who was serving free lunch that day. For some it was a lifestyle. They were comfortable. I even got used to it myself. The food was good. The library was close, and I was hearing the Word.

Savannah people were praying for me. They were praying with me. I was going to church. I was beginning to cry out. Satan’s Kingdom was being threatened. Let’s move him further away. Away from the familiar things was his ploy.

Lo and behold I received a job offer in Wilson, North Carolina. They knew my situation, knew I was in the shelter, and were still willing to make an offer. What a gift from God. He had answered my prayer. They wired bus fare to me and had a hotel waiting. It was a nice little suite and they agreed to pay the weekly fee until my first check. Not only that but they also took me to the grocery store and paid for a few starter groceries. Wow. What a break. The first few weeks went smooth. I was even given a company truck to drive. Keys back!

Sitting in a hotel room at night, by myself was very difficult for me while the world spins outside. It started with just going out for dinner. Then dinner and drinks. Then drinks. Then. Drinks and crack. Then crack. On the road again. Driving that little truck all over the place. Too much driving. Not enough water. In the truck that is. It overheated in the middle of nowhere while I was desperately trying to get to work. I had been out driving around all night. I was quite late and very much fired. Those keys didn’t last long. Wow. Now I am homeless in Somewhere, North Carolina. I found a shelter until I could somehow convince mom to send me money for a bus ticket, again.

I repeated this process a couple more times. Almost the same scenarios. One move to Macon lasted exactly one paycheck and two days. The first Atlanta trip was a bit worse. I had been paid a relocation fee by my soon to be employer. I arrived from Savannah a few days early. I was eager to find a weekly rental and learn the bus routes. I never showed up for work. Seven days later I received notice. They had withdrawn their offer and wanted their money back. It was gone all of it. The hotel informed me they wanted me out. I had to go. Unbelievable. Well. Not really, after all, it was me. Homeless in Atlanta. Nice. Not so nice when you are high beyond measure and carrying luggage.

In desperation I called one of the other potential employers who had shown interest in my resume. He said he would pick me up and buy me some lunch. Food? What a concept. Disguising my condition during lunch was impossible. This man said he was not a believer but he believed in helping people get a second chance. He also said his brother was a pastor. He called his brother and handed me the phone. He said a very powerful prayer over me and encouraged me to know Jesus. I felt that prayer. With my bus fair paid in full, back to Savannah I went.

When I arrived in Savannah it was beyond curfew for entry into the mission. I tried another shelter across the street from the bus station and they too were closed. Great. What now? Find a bridge? I could not call mom. She and the rest of the family had entered tough love. They wanted no contact from me until after I had been in recovery. George Wilds. I needed to call George. George is one of the pastors at The Mustard Seed Faith Church in Savannah. George also heads up their G.L.A.D. program(God’s Liberation from Alcohol and Drugs). George is a mighty man of God. George responded to my call and picked me up at the bus station then put me up in a room for the night. He is such a good friend. The next day, only a few days before Christmas 2004, I was back at the shelter.

Beat down, broke, busted, disgusted, helpless, homeless, and hopeless. Stripped of everything. Literally. My net worth now consisted of a black back pack, a few clothes and a little pocket version of The New Living Translation. Little did I know at that point, that right then, I had all I needed. In the days following I found myself back into the library-park routine during the day. I would lay on one of the benches outside the library and read that New Testament and pray. Then when evening fell I would be back at the shelter to try to hear from God, get a hot shower and a warm meal, climb in my bunk and fight off the nighttime attacks in my dreams.

It was December 23rd, 2004. The next day would be Christmas Eve. Here I was in Savannah, with my children and family not far from me, spending the holidays alone, again. This time was different though. They didn’t want me around. I was not to be trusted. Real tough love. I spoke to my mom that evening on the mission phone. I was so weighted down with guilt and shame. It was difficult to even talk to her. I thought of the kids and how I could not even afford to buy them a card. She told me that my brother-in-law could let me earn some money the next day by helping him clean up a construction site. That was a true blessing. He picked me up, bought me breakfast and we had a long talk. At the end of the day he offered to buy my children gift certificates in lo of payment. I was so glad that my children would at least know I was thinking of them. On the way home we were talking about Christmas and how everyone was going to be at my moms that evening, Christmas Eve. He called my mom and was asking her if she would at least let me come see all the children for a little while. Wasn’t happening. With tears in both of our eyes, he dropped me off in front of the mission, wished me well, and drove off. That may have been the very lowest point of my life. It was beyond lonely. Completed rejected by normal society. Satan had me so bound. I wasn’t even good at being homeless.

I knew at this point that I could no longer attempt to do this on my own. I needed help. I recalled George mentioning a different mission called The Savannah Mission Bible Training Center. Bible Training Center? Sounded like boot camp. I was nervous about dialing that number. I was told that I needed to come in and speak to them directly and complete an application. So with backpack in hand I headed off with great anticipation. The center was housed in a huge Victorian mansion located on, get this, Victory Drive. I walked through the front door into the huge foyer area. It was beautifully decorated for Christmas with a huge Christmas tree. I could see some sort of a class taking place to my right, A huge dining room table with a picture of The Last Supper adorning the wall behind it, and in front me, a bearded man with a clipboard sitting behind a desk. He took my name and had me sit in the waiting area while he informed the office I was there. It was a little intimidating but at the same time had a very “family” feeling about it. The big table was what really caught my eye. It had been a while since I had a sit down dinner.

I was led into the office and asked a few questions about why I wanted to be in their program. I gave them a quick, stripped down version of what I have just told you. My story wasn’t anything new to them however. I was hoping with everything I had that they would accept me right then. I really did not want to be in the shelter on Christmas Eve and this place looked more like a home than a shelter. Michael, they said, we believe you are sincere about changing your life, you are accepted, it’s just that we don’t have any beds available. Check back with us in a few days. Wow. Rejected once again. Shot down. Oh well, I sill have time to catch the shelter if I hustle.

That night the shelter was over packed but they turned away no one. I found a spot on the floor after dinner and began crying that invisible cry that most men have. I had my face peering at that little New Testament, but wasn’t reading anything. I was so completely empty. There was no more. The Michael Plan had finally failed. My life had failed. I was a failure.

Then when I opened my eyes, something happened that would change my life forever. It was those words. Those words on the pages in front of me. They were piercing my soul. They literally stood out among the other words. It was “my” message and this is what it said:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will direct your paths.

Proverbs 3: 5 & 6 (NLT)

I read that verse over, and over, and over. Trust in the Lord? I had trusted in just about everything else. The not depending on my own understanding at that point was pretty easy. I was so lost and confused I did not understand much of anything anyway. Seek his will? Why couldn’t he just tell me, I thought. But it said if I do this, he will direct my paths. How I desperately needed that. Someone else to direct my paths. I had a proven track record of dead end roads, remember. I went to sleep that night with a sense of peace and that somehow there may still be hope.

I am not sure that there are many things more humbling than waking up Christmas morning in a homeless shelter. But awaking that morning the shelter had a different feel. We were all provided a good breakfast and told that we could stay in and watch movies because it was Christmas. I was back in my bible. I wanted another message. But I got the same one. Trust me. He was speaking to me. Trust me. Suddenly I got a feeling inside, actually it was more of a prompting to call the Bible Center back. When I made it through to the office I was shocked to hear them say this: We prayed about you last night and the Lord told us to make room for you. We are going to pull a spare bed down out of the attic and make you the ninth man in the eight man room. Be here tomorrow morning at 10:00. You see my friends, Jesus can make a way when there is no way. Praise God!

The next morning I could not wait to take that walk down Victory Drive! Ten o’clock could not come fast enough. It felt right. It was encouraging. I was trusting God, I certainly did not understand what I was getting myself into, and as I walked it became quite apparent to me; HE was directing my path! Just like he said he would. My faith instantly grew.

Check-in was a little intimidating. They explained to me about the program rules and the schedule. They also explained that it was an eight month program. Wow. Eight months? Surely I could find work before then. But once I got settled into my room, had a hot meal and attended the evening devotions, I was reminded once again to trust him.

It took me a few days to get used to living in such close quarters with others after keeping myself so completely isolated for so long. To top it off, I was living in a house filled with recovering addicts. Moods were all over the place. But I felt at home. It was comforting to be around others who had been led down similar paths. But it was more comforting to see the work God had been doing in the ones who had been there a while. More hope!

Mission life was very structured. Not rigorous by any means. Just structured. A typical days schedule at the mission was as follows:

7:00 Wake Up
7:30 Exercise
8:00 Breakfast
8:30 Daily Chores
9:00 Devotions
9:40 Class
10:40 Class
11:40 Class
12:45 Lunch
1:30 Roll Call/Work Projects
4:00 Free Time/Showers
6:00 Dinner
6:30 Daily Chores
7:30 Devotions
9:00 Snacks
10:00 In Your Own Rooms
10:30 Lights Out

OK, I thought, this is what I do for the next eight months. Eight months seemed like an eternity away. But as you can see, we ate four times a day and the chores were light. The devotions and classes were what really intrigued me however. The praise and worship was all A cappella. We sang some classic old hymns and some that I call campfire worships songs. Those lyrics would remain on my mind all the time. It was hard not to walk around singing and humming those songs. But we sang from our hearts. You could hear the desperation in our singing. We were all hungry for something we had never tasted before. We wanted to know God. We wanted to know how to get to know him. Little did we know at the time but singing those songs is what was opening up the door.

We were subjected to a wide variety of teachers and teaching styles. I enjoyed this. It really got me interested in the word. There were a lot of different viewpoints. It forced me to go searching for the truth. Because along with all those teachers and styles came a couple of false teachers, just as the bible speaks of. Take this as a warning. Not everyone who claims to be preaching God’s word speaks the truth. It’s all just another way that the Devil tries to deceive us. But after all, it was Bible training, right?

One subject that particularly became of interest to me was the devil. Not to glorify him in anyway, but to begin to understand how he operates. I could see the results of his handy work as I glanced back over my life. I began to recall those times that I was lied to and tricked into to doing something that would bring me harm. I began learning how to put on the full armor of God, and what that meant. I began to realize that I could use the authority of Jesus’ name to defeat him. I began to know that more I submitted to God, the easier it became to resist him. The bible says that if we do these two things, he must flee from us.

When you have come from a life of addictions, smothered with guilt and shame, Satan’s attacks come often. I mean like once every couple of minutes. During the day fighting the attacks was not near as difficult as fighting the nighttime ones. At night the nightmares were almost unbearable. I would wake up in cold sweats. He was tormenting me in my sleep. Reruns of some of my darkest days kept rolling through my head at high speed. Others told me I would often be speaking in tongues very loud without ever waking up. I was fighting. I wasn’t the only one getting that type of punishment. Most of the guys talked in their sleep, others would wake up crying or screaming. And then there those sounds that were not human. Bone chilling moans and deep, deep cries that sounded more like roaring, could often be heard. There is no way that these were human cries. They were definitely demons.

I remember mentioning this to my mom and she gave me this advice. She said you have to let Jesus be the Lord of every area of you, including your sub conscience. Let him have the reign over your nighttime seasons. I began praying that before bed every night. Then after one final dream, they were over. This was the dream:

If you recall I told you I am a surveyor by profession. Surveyors often are in the wilderness and we carry machetes to clear brush for line of sight, etc. I was walking through a field with very tall grass and came upon the edge of a wetland area. I had walked a few feet into the water and suddenly was confronted by a very large, very angry snake. He was the serpent. It was a mighty battle. I fought that snake for what seemed like an hour. He would wrap me in his clutches and tried with all his might to sink his fangs into my neck. But I refused defeat. I wrestled him off me time and time again until at last I was able to get in a swing of that machete. It was a great swing too. Off his head went in a bloody bath. I recall blood, more blood than a snake that size could contain, being splashed all over me. He was dead! I had slayed the serpent. I waded even further into the water, dipped under, and came up clean. I woke up at that point. I was sweating and in shock. But I knew it was over. I had won the battle. You see, the bible tells us this:

For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies,but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.

Ephesians 6:12 (NLT)

Now that that battle had ended, it was time to focus on the part of “my” message that I had yet to address, seeking God’s will. I learned so much over the next several months. I learned about love. I began to even feel loved. I began to love others. I began to understand part of God’s marvelous plan. God is so real. I saw him working in the lives of my brothers and sisters I now lived with. I mean radical changes. I saw demons cast out, I saw healing, I saw complete turn around in peoples appearances and attitudes. I saw people that could once not even speak the name of Jesus praising his Holy name with all of their hearts. I saw dreams come alive and families restored. I began to see people like God sees them. I began to see myself like that also. It was a transformation. Truly born again. New creations. Set free!

I realized that all people have an even more beautiful person living within them. Some of the people that were in that mission with me were brilliant. They were creative. They were intelligent. They were all talented in their own individual ways. I learned about people. I learned that outward appearance has absolutely nothing to do with who a person truly is.

God became so very real to me. I mean literally. It happened one night during praise and worship. With my hands in the air, I was singing the song, “Jesus, you are the lover of my soul” I could feel the words coming from deep within me. All of a sudden I felt this warm aura surrounding me. It captured me, I was transported out of that room for a short while. I could still sense that I was present. I could hear the others. But I was not there. I truly believe that I was in the very presence of God. I knew it. It was supernatural. I was dancing in his fields of grace. It was another life-changing experience. That one incident removed any and all doubt about whether God is real. I had been with him. It’s a feeling I will never forget.

After my fourth month I had the privilege of receiving family visits for an hour and a half on the weekends. No one other than my mom understood that I was under Jesus’ care now. They still didn’t believe. But mom knew that God was going to fulfill her lifetime prayer. She would faithfully come every weekend, bring me personal items, and take me to lunch. Those times I had with mom were some of the greatest memories I have. We had such open and honest conversations. I got to tell her all the things I had been holding inside for all those years. Likewise, mom shared some things with me that I would have never known about her.

About a month before I was scheduled to graduate, I got the heartbreaking news that mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer. I knew she had not been feeling well but I never expected this. I thought no God! Please. Not now. I wanted so bad to leave the mission right then and go to be with her. To help her. To encourage her. To pray for her. But God had a different plan. He wanted me to honor my commitment. There was no quitting.

I graduated that mission on September 28th of 2005. Leaving was difficult. I wanted to stay but I knew that it was time to go face up to the responsibilities I had been running from all these years. Mom needed me. I moved into mom and dads house and soon found work. It was different being in the world. It was difficult. People were different. I could see the darkness that I had been blinded to before. And mom’s health was failing fast. We prayed so hard. We fasted. We confessed God’s word. I knew that he was going to do a mighty work.

After being home only a few weeks I noticed that dad wasn’t looking to good either. He was coughing very bad and we convinced him to see a doctor. But he didn’t need an appointment to know what the diagnosis was. He already knew. He too had lung cancer. He had kept it revealed from the family as he did not want to draw any attention away from mom. That’s just how much he loved her.

Mom’s condition had developed so fast. She was in chemotherapy. She was taking every medication they could find. Her church and half of Wilmington Island were praying for her. But God obviously felt like mom had already accomplished everything he had for her to do. Mom went home to be with the Lord two weeks before Thanksgiving 2005. As we sat at her bedside, her pastor arrived and was speaking to dad. I heard dad say something that I, nor mom, ever thought we would hear him say. He looked at the pastor and said, “I want to go to heaven to be with her”. Dad gave his life to Jesus only moments after she passed. It took her death for the fruition of another one of her lifetime prayers to be answered. But get answered it did. Praise God.

I am so thankful that I had written God’s word in my heart the previous months. There is absolutely no way I could have handled her passing without God. Many thought this would be enough to drive me back into my addictions. But God gives us peace. Real peace. Peace that is way beyond what we can comprehend. Of course I grieved for a period. But then suddenly it became quite clear to me that I should be rejoicing for her. She was with the Lord. The one she loved. My grieving beyond the norm was actually selfishness. I had to release her unto God.

I began to imagine her with Jesus. In fact, I can recall mom telling me years ago about the dream where she met Jesus. You see, mom operated a beauty shop in her home for more than 20 years. It was her ministry. She charged very little for her services and everybody loved her. She had built so many solid friendships through that shop. She always had an encouraging word. But in this dream she had the awesome pleasure of cutting Jesus’ hair. It was “her” story and I bet that Jesus is primping around with an awesome haircut right now!

Thanksgiving was hard to deal with that year. The family leader was no longer with us. and dad’s condition was failing. He missed mom so bad. In his mind, his life was over. She is all he lived for. He even told us that he did not want to be here any longer without her. He refused treatment of any kind. All he wanted was pain medicine. He just wanted to not suffer any longer. I think he suffered more from being without her than he did the cancer. Then two weeks after Thanksgiving, 2005, dad also passed. He went to be with his bride. Not surprisingly, that was the day of their 49th wedding anniversary. Glory be to God!

It has been almost two years since then. I cannot tell you that everything has just been peaches and cream since. I have stumbled a time or two. I still take a wrong turn now and then. But the difference is that now I instantly recognize that I am going the wrong way. I do not have to follow that path all the way to the dead end. I know what the right direction is and all I have to do is admit I was wrong, quickly turn around and get right back on the road to Jesus. I have seen God doing so many things in my life. He has restored my relationship with my children. He placed me in a respectable job in my licensed profession. He has blessed me with a very comfortable place to live. I have a brand new perspective on life. I can hold my head up high. He has given me hope. He is my hope. I want to serve him. In fact I am serving him. I have been placed in an awesome Acts 2 church. The name of the church I am now a member of is get this, Victory World Church. Victory! Victory is mine!

For every child of God defeats this evil world, and we achieve this victory through our faith.
1 John 5:4 (NLT)

My friends, let me close this letter by sharing a few things I can now see about the journey God is leading me down. Granted it has been a very rocky road, but it has strengthened me. You see, God has a mighty work for me to do. That’s why Satan has been attacking me all these years. He knows that I am a threat to his kingdom. God has a mighty work for you to do also. Do not ever let anyone convince you otherwise. God’s desire is for you to be whole. Nothing missing. Nothing broken.

I now know, that there is not anything in this world that compares to knowing Jesus on a personal basis. It’s not just a part of life. It is life. Jesus is the way. He is the answer. He is our friend. Our teacher. He is the lover of your soul. He will send you the comforter. I encourage you to get in his word. Read it. Study it. Speak it. It will change your life. God has the power to recreate you. He can transform you. He is a God of restoration. He chooses the foolish things of this world to confuse the wise. Come to God my friends. He stands at the door and knocks. Notice he doesn’t bang or kick on the door. He is a gentleman. He knocks softly. Answer the door. It is the narrow door. Few ever find it. If you open it, he will come in and share a meal with you. You do not have to live a defeated life. No matter what you have been through, or are currently going through there is nothing greater than God. There is no name above the name of Jesus. Learn what the word says about you. Learn the authority that has been granted to you in Christ Jesus. Learn to take back what was meant to be yours. It’s never too late.

As for me I have chosen to become a warrior for God. You see, I still get the attacks. But I am learning to recognize them now. I am learning how to be Victorious in every battle. Satan is always trying to find new ways to entice me. He comes against my finances, he comes against my relationships, and he comes against my emotions. But he cannot win because the one who dwells within me, The Holy Spirit, is far greater than he, the Devil, which is in the world! I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good and my one desire is to dwell in the house of the Lord forever. I have set my hands to the plow and I will not look back.

I would like to take the time to thank you for reading my testimony. I also want to encourage those of you who do not know Jesus to seek him with everything you have. My hope is that this message can touch just one life. If that one person is you, be of good cheer. God does not have more respect for any one person than he does another. If he can take a life like my former life and turn it around, he will indeed do the same for you. You can be free from all of the things that bind you. He’s waiting with an outstretched hand. All you have to do is admit that you have made mistakes and ask him to come into your life. At the moment you do this with all sincerity, you’re spirit is renewed. You become a new creature. The bible says it like this:

This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!

2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT)

Things that are old in your life will begin to drop off. Old habits. Old feelings. Old problems. And new things will be made available to you. New hope. A new sense of purpose. New friends. A brand new life. Take hold of this new life. You do not have to suffer. You do not have to buy into what the world says will bring you happiness. Happiness is a choice and if you really want to find true happiness, choose Jesus!

This is a true saying:

If we die with him,

we will also live with him.

If we endure hardship,

we will reign with him.

If we deny him,

he will deny us,

if we are unfaithful,

he remains faithful,

for he cannot deny himself.

2 Timothy 2:11-13 (NLT)

Here this is me again, Martina, hope you read my other testimony. Well I am here with a different experience of mine, that which I came through after God came into my life. PEACE, PEACE, no matter what kind of a problem I came across, just believed deep in my heart, that god would help me cross that dark lane. I loved the example of Paul, how god brings him out and makes him an instrument to spread the blessed words of our lord.

Believe me, my first testimony is not even an atom of my life, I went through so many, so many in my everyday life, everyday, when I used to sit in the open terrace thinking how I could kill myself so that I could escape my worldly burdens. I would sleep every night hoping not to get up the next morning. I was just a lonely girl standing in that dark road hoping, looking out for someone, who would actually hold me by my hand; take me to a place where I could actually have space to breathe pure air. Every morning I woke up with nothing but disappointment. But I knew that God lived and just clung on to my faith, and occasional happiness helped me cling on to Christianity. But the transformation from the Martina I was to the Martina I am, it was sudden, all of a sudden. I read the Bible twice a day, I listen to nothing but Christian hymns. I started loving God, and stopped expecting, I just submitted my entirety, to him. I stopped watching movies, TV, stopped speaking ill of others, started loving others not expecting a reciprocal love, started praying for everybody, stopped worrying because I know for sure that my faith would heal me, I Know that my God would take care of me, and even if troubles come my way, I just take it as gods will and do nothing on my behalf to cure them but pray with all my heart. But Satan does not let you have your own way, does he? My own people, my family made fun of me, called me a psycho, because, my change perturbed them. Temptations came my way, but every time I was subjected to any of them, gods just made me over run them, and I was back to him. Perhaps my poetry would help you understand what I went through better, believe me, things were harder than they seem to be in the poetry.

I write this testimony because, I know, there are many of you down there, questioning your very existence, but let me tell you, God Loves you, and all you have to do, is stop treating him as some holy man who can be consulted once in a while, He is God, He is our awesome God, our savior who taught us to love one another, who would fill our void. He is our father, look up at him as one, he never leaves us on our own, he is there, always no matter where or at what situation you are in, he is holding you tight. Love him, he needs to be loved. Just stop running behind worldly pleasures, they are vicious. Believe in God, he is the only answer to life’s intricacies.

That day…

There was this day,
A day in my life;
Bold to remember,
Ever to stay, in this
Frail mind of flesh.

As yet till that day;
I was just flesh, just flesh,
Existing, counting each minute
As it grew agonizing by seconds.
There was no thirst, as I
Filled my feeble self
With tears.

Prayers made to god,
To the god I knew,
To a god, a god,
Not to my god.
Darkness, I loved;
It concealed my tears.
Light, I trembled;
In fear of portrayal
Of a heart, that was filthy.

Company, pacified me
Never filled the void
That haunted each day
Of my life.
I paced, I ran
I wept, I wept.

Looked right, looked
On all sides.
People, nay, they had
A life of their own,
Too worked up
To work on me.

Prayers seemed to
Become mere mists
Made to thin air.
So embossed in this
Life of no sense,
I went down.
Down under that
Dingy well where
Nobody would discover me
And feel ashamed.
Where I could dwell
In that warren I dug
On a life I never understood.

My blood, the reason
For me being here,
Never made out what
I was; I never did.
My countenance, my own
Petrified me, befuddled me.

In solitude, I inquired
My life, which seemed so complex,
So complex to undo. I inquired
My god, my creator, my lord.
I believed that this state
Of life, I was standing in
Was just another abandonment.

I knew I wasn’t going back.
I gulped down each day,
With pain and hunger;
Hunger for a life, a life.
I muddled up things around
Believe me, I was done and gone.

So habituated to a life,
Dingy and dark,
I laughed it all out, I did,
The slightest step I took
To straighten things around
With the hope that people around
Could keep off the gutter of my life.

Each day, I laughed
Each breath I took, I wept
Deep within that dark horizon,
That garden of thorns,
That I dare not let people check.
I watered them with my tears.

I discovered that I was an outcast
In that ship, who was just awaiting
The destination, for the completion
Of a journey I accepted, when my
Own identity was in itself unknown.

My friends were my tears
My prayers were but made
Every day, every day,
Until that day, when I was
In that well, that warren.

Resurgence

It lit up, all of a sudden.
The light, too bright
Petrified me, my body
Trembled, but it all disappeared
A man, of a friendly disposition
Came down that dark place.

“Are you going to sit there
All by yourself?” he asked
I was no less confused, but
For some reason, I felt
Light, light as a feather.
“So how is life?” He asked
“Now don’t look at me
As if you