This Is My Story

Evangelistic Testimony

I am generally opposed to sharing my work for my classes on this blog.  It's not in any way that I'm ashamed or that I'm trying to hide what I'm doing.  But I do so for two primary reasons; First, many of my assignments have a specific context within my classes which is important to the actual learning.  If I were to post my work, it might somehow spoil the experience of a student and detract from their learning.  Second, obviously, there is always the concern surrounding the temptation of plagiarism.  However, my story is unique to me, so I don't see the harm in sharing it.  With a few minor edits, this is my submission for my PM102OL assignment to write my evangelistic testimony.

 

Evangelistic Testimony

Our lives tell a story. A collection of events and memories that despite being unique and different, are carefully quilted together to reveal who we are. It’s a colorful blanket; some patches are soft and comfortable while others are thin and faded, but they all have their place. As the years lumber on, we stitch together new squares, marveling at the display as it assaults our senses and stimulates our emotions. It’s a one of a kind work of art. Then, when the last seam is sewn, we appreciate its beauty for a fleeting moment. Well used and familiar; finally folded together and gently stored away until it’s lost from memory. A rather melancholy tale in the sense that this is not the way life is supposed to be.  This is my story.

I was a normal six-year-old kid. In the summer of ’80, I spent my days playing football with the neighbors and roleplaying Battlestar Galactica and Buck Rogers. Life was just an endless string of days of carefree fun. Life was just life and there was no grand purpose. But that all changed one morning when my dad called the family together. He announced that we were going to start going to church. He dozed off the night before while watching television and awoke to some strange fella named Billy Graham talking about God, and Jesus, and the cross. Not wanting to get up to turn the dial, he watched and listened. That night, God found my dad.

Church on Sundays was the new normal for our family. My sister and I attended Sunday School where we began to learn about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit from those big letter hand-drawn illustration books. Then we’d fidget through the morning worship service much to the chagrin of our parents. The following summer while attending Vacation Bible School, my teacher convinced me that I was a rotten little sinner and whether out of fear or the desire to please my teacher and my parents, I asked Jesus into my heart. So I left camp that year thinking my eternal standing with God was done, sorted, and settled. Quite an accomplishment for a seven-year-old.

As my teen years waned, I left home to attend university. Having been freed from the tether of my parents, I began to sow my wild oats so-to-speak. I happily identified as a Christian, eternally secure, but I continued living for myself.  Before long, I descended into the basement of depravity. I think the first time I sensed things were getting out of hand was when I noticed that I wasn’t just moving towards wicked behavior, I was actually setting the bar. The guys I thought were bad news were looking at me and saying, “Ah, yeah we’re not going there.” I was the run down, drugged up, pathetic punk you’d rather cross the street for than walk past.

Presented with two choices, live or die, I was fortunate enough to have someone close to me who actually made that decision for me. I slowly got cleaned up and back on my feet.  Then I left school (like I had actually been going) and moved back home to rest and work on getting my life back together. I found myself back in church and once again back into the routine of being a good little Christian. I recalled those days when I accepted Jesus. I thought I was good, sorted, and settled again.

Years of hard work and labor ensued as I strived to put those dark fuzzy days of my past behind me. I followed my dreams with a new determined passion to succeed. I had my moments of course, but I pressed on towards my goals and by the end of 2001, I got my degree in electrical engineering, I got a job, and I got the girl of my dreams to marry me. Life was good. I immediately excelled in my work and threw in a Master of Science in Electrical Engineering just for kicks. By the time 2007 finished, we were a happy little portrait of middle-class America – successful, happy, 2.0 kids.

In 2008, we did something crazy. We picked up and moved to Poland where my wife is from. We committed to starting all over from scratch. It was hard work to get on our feet in Poland, but a little elbow grease and confident determination saw us through the challenges. Things at work picked up and I found myself growing my career again in Europe. We also grew our family a bit, although that was far from intentional. Regardless, we were blessed with our brood of four little boys.

2013 was a challenging year for my business and I found myself traveling across Europe a lot. In May of that year, I traveled to Istanbul, Turkey to meet with my team to set their goals for the remainder of the year. While there, my employees invited me to one of their homes for a proper Turkish meal. I was more than happy to oblige and we were having a great time with an amazing home cooked meal.  

And then the darndest thing happened. The husband of my host asked me if I was a Christian. “Of course!” I replied in almost a knee-jerk kind of reaction. He was Muslim and proceeded to ask me to explain what being a Christian meant. This was not a malicious question; it was a thoughtful request to engage in a cordial debate on faith. So I started to explain but I found the words hard to come by and inconsistent. I fumbled around for the threads of understanding I could dredge up from memory – but they were few and far between. My host graciously changed the topic. He and everyone in that room that night knew something I didn’t – I was a fraud and I just got exposed big time.

Who cares? Life is good, everything is great, I accepted Christ so what difference does it make? But a pit formed in my stomach about that evening. That sinking feeling that grows and steals your thoughts at night and keeps you awake. What if Christ never accepted me?  Days matured into weeks, no rest. I came to the realization that I didn’t have a clue of who Jesus actually was; I didn’t know who God was. I wasn’t a Christian. Why was this bothering me?

A kind pastor and dear friend pointed me to Grace to You ministries and I decided to rid myself of that pit by studying up. I started consuming the online sermons that John MacArthur was posting. I listened carefully, looking to build the Christian checklist so I could have some peace about my faith. But it never came. If anything, I became more panicked. Yes, I know I’m a sinner, my past testified loudly to that, but Christ died for those sins, didn’t he? I prayed a prayer, I’m good to go, right? I kept listening, thinking, reading, and searching.

On a July afternoon that year, while cooking lunch for myself, I listened to John preach on the holiness of God. I hung on every word of the message as John walked through the Scriptures. How awesome is God was all I could think of. The image and picture kept getting bigger and better; I really got swept up by the message. And then for some odd reason, I thought about myself. My knees went weak, the blood drained from my face, and I lost my breath.  Immediate shock. For the first time in my life, I saw myself as God sees me. As tears streamed down my cheeks, God found me. Four simple words formed a chorus I cried for an hour, “I’m so sorry God”. I cried so hard it hurt.

God showed me that day how wrong I was. He showed me how utterly ugly my sin looked when compared to His holiness. There was only one path to peace with God – through Jesus Christ. Jesus, born of a virgin being fully God and fully man, lived a perfect life to fulfill the law of God. A law, which I could never keep myself. Then He laid his life down on the cross of Calvary to settle the debt I owed for my transgressions. A debt I could never repay myself.  After three days God raised Jesus from the grave, the divine receipt of an acceptable payment and proof of the hope we have in Him. A hope offered by His grace alone, through repentance and faith alone in Christ alone. A free gift offered on God’s terms, not conditionally accepted on mine.

My whole life I lived with the knowledge of the gospel, but I never believed it. I was never right with God. But when recognizing my need for a savior I turned away from my life and turned towards Christ. I realized that Jesus already did everything for me. There was nothing for me to offer, nothing for me to bring. I was dead in my own sins, but God raised me to life in Jesus through faith alone. I am in Christ because of God. I no longer look back at what I’ve done, but to what Christ accomplished in His death and resurrection. I now live humbly in the confidence of that hope through faith and admittedly, I’m not the person I once was.

A year ago, I found myself sitting across from my anesthesiologist the day before I was to undergo a very complicated surgery to remove a large tumor from my abdomen. I was frail, suffering, weak, and hurting. She struggled to find the words to explain to this young man with a young family that things just might not go, um, well. Then, in a moment of utter joy for me in the midst of my pain, I smiled and interrupted her, “It’s OK. Don’t worry. Whatever the outcome, my life is not in your hands, it’s in the hands of my God.” She saw a broken man who lives by faith, and it shocked her. I’d later learn that the surgeons were pleased with how effortless and uncomplicated the surgery was. Don’t get me wrong, it was brutal, but God is good.  I see those scars every day and smile. Those are not scars of pain, they’re scars of undeserved grace. Because I don’t know how I could have faced that situation without the peace of God, without peace with God.

That is exactly what God freely offers. Peace with Him. Turn away from yourself, and turn to Christ. Believe in Him and His finished work; that of dying for your sins and His defeat of death in resurrection. Turn to Christ not out of fear, but out of amazement for His undeserved grace. He loved us and died for us while we were sinners. And while none of us are worthy, He stands ready to forgive and welcome us to Him. There is nothing for us to add, just turn and believe. And that is the good news.

As another patch of fabric finds its place, I can’t help but notice that something is different today. This rather feeble looking blanket I’ve made has been joined to the perfect blanket of the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Washed in the blood of His sacrifice, I marvel at how gracious and how merciful He has been towards me. His grace through faith on full display for the ages, to which we can only gaze upon and offer awestruck praise to Him. His divine holy masterpiece that will never be folded, never put away, and never forgotten.