122 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
122 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
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MY TESTIMONY
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. I grew up in a family with 2 fine parents, neither of whom was a
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Christian, although my Mother believed in God, doing good things,
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leading a clean life and generally being kind and considerate to
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others. I had a happy childhood and was encouraged to attend Sunday
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School from an early age. I loved the singing and the Bible stories
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but it meant nothing more than that.
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. When I was about 7 or 8, I heard an old man preaching the Good
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News of Jesus on the beach. Every day during the summer months, he
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would bring bibles, songbooks and a tent through the town and down to
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the beach where he would conduct his one-man mission. Anyway, after
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he had explained something about the love of Christ, he invited us
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kids to say a prayer with him and give our lives to the Lord, and so I
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did. Nothing felt different afterwards but I was still excited enough
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to blurt it all out as soon as I got home for lunch. My parents told
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me not to be so silly and to hurry up washing my hands because the
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food was getting cold. I did as I was told (because that was how we
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behaved) and forgot all about it for many years.
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. In my family, we all loved music, especially fine singing, and so
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it was natural that I joined the church choir when I was about 9 or
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10. I used to love the services because it was a chance to sing, I
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could chatter quietly to my friends during the sermon, and if it was
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an evening sermon, then I could screw up my eyes to look at the
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candles and see each one as a cross. Best of all, we were paid to
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sing!
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. Nothing much happened until I was about 13 or 14. My voice
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started to break, the vicar suggested I should be confirmed and I ran
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a mile. Me get confirmed? No way. As far as I was concerned the
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church was full of stuffy old hypocrites and children who were goody-
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goodies. I didn't want to be part of that. I was getting into a wild
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stage of my life with under-age drinking, taking girls to the farmer's
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barn and so on. And so I turned my back on the church and walked away
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without any regret at the time.
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. Time passed. I grew out the other side of my wild patch and
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married when I was 23. She was a lovely woman - everything I could
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possibly want in a wife and far, far more than I could ever describe.
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After 12 years, we had 3 super children, all boys. The first was 8,
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the second 6 and the little one 18 months. Then life went sour, the
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colors and the singing went out of it. My wife was diagnosed as
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having terminal cancer.
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. This couldn't be. Not to us. She was so kind, so loving and I
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needed her. No, there must be a mistake. But no, there was no
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mistake and although we had access to the best doctors and treatments
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in England, all we could hope for was to prolong her life.
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. During the 2 years to 1980 when she was ill, Lyn used to go to
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the Sunday morning service in church and to a Bible study class in the
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vicar's house every Sunday night. She used to get great strength from
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it and so, as a loving husband, I helped her all I could to make sure
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she never had to miss one, even when it meant carrying her because she
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was too weak to walk. I didn't see how she got so much out of it but
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could see it did something wonderful for her.
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. By early February 1980, she was so ill she was in the hospital.
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We both knew she wouldn't be coming home again and reckoned there was
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about 2 or 3 weeks left. Suddenly and with no apparent reason, I knew
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we had to get to the hospital QUICKLY. We grabbed our shoes and
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headed towards London. It was about 40 miles to the hospital, and
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meant driving through nearly all of London on a Saturday lunchtime.
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The streets were heaving with people, cars and lorries and yet,
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somehow, it was as though a way was being cut through for us as we hit
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speeds of 80 or 90.
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. We reached the hospital and rushed up to Lyn's room. She was in
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a coma and fighting for breath, fighting to hang on. I went to her
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side and spoke, not knowing if she could hear me. Yes, she seemed to
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be able to. Her breathing increased each time I spoke as if she
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wanted to reply but couldn't. Then, suddenly, I SAW A HAND REACHING
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DOWN FOR HERS and knew that it was OK. "Lyn", I said, "if you can see
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a hand reaching down for you, take it." She gave a gentle sigh and
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died in my arms. How could that not make an impact on a non-believer.
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. In the months that followed, I searched for some purpose to life,
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for some spiritual input. I looked suspiciously at the Eastern cults
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before deciding that they weren't for me. All the time my desperation
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was growing, largely because I had just too much grief bottled up
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inside me and I was too much in control to let it out. Then there
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were the kids, super boys, and their hurt was hurting me more. Where
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could I turn?
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. About 6 months before Lyn died, I started showing symptoms of
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what I thought might be cancer. But with Lyn ill, what could I do? It
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seemed the best thing was to leave it until she either recovered or
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died. Well, by the February when she died, it had grown and was so
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unsightly that people were keeping on at me to see my doctor and have
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it treated. No way, I had seen what all that radiotherapy and
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chemotherapy had done to Lyn, and didn't everyone reckon the treatment
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was as bad as the disease? Forget it!
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. Well, 12 months later in February 1981, I was at the end of my
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tether. I just couldn't cope with the pent-up grief, the pressure was
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on at work, my own tumor had grown and was bleeding fairly often and I
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still hadn't seen a doctor. I just wanted to curl up in a corner and
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die. In the middle of all this I was searching desperately for a
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spiritual side to my life. Every other religion and cult had seemed
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like empty shams and I remembered that Lyn had drawn so much strength
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from her Christianity. She had always been a good judge of things -
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maybe she was right about this as well.
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. And so, I started reading Christian books, going to Christian
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meetings and so on. I could feel something reaching me but I was
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still holding back. I wasn't ready, I told the counselor, I'm not
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good enough yet. Give me time to be more acceptable to God. Then he
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explained about the Cross, about how His own Son went to the Cross,
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bleeding, dying just for me and my sins. And how, through the
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resurrection, he defeated death and sin. And how I could have Jesus
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as my personal redeemer if I would only confess my sins, ask
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forgiveness, and receive Jesus as Lord of my Life.
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. Well, I did and I can't explain the immediate happenings. Like
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Close Encounters of the 3rd kind but a million times more powerful.
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All I know is that because I'm human, I've made mistakes as I seek to
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follow Christ more and more every day of my life, but I'm still
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accepted by God through His Son, Jesus Christ. Praise the Lord!
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Computers For Christ - Chicago
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