CINDY'S STORY - Part 2

One day during this struggle I was walking through my bedroom seeing the attention it needed. It was a mess! I was so exhausted in every aspect of life that I could hardly take another step, yet I was late for an appointment. My heart felt like it would take a crane to lift and my steps were dragging like an anchor. I saw a paper sack full of things that needed to be put away. All I wanted to do was put them away...just ONE sackful, but I couldn't!

I stood there for a moment, so depressed that I didn't think I could go on. Something had to be done. I asked myself, "What are my options?" The first thing that came to mind was suicide, but that was not an option. Suicide seems such a selfish thing to do and it certainly did not fit into my legalistic thought processes. I did not desire that, I dismissed it immediately.

I saw that my choices were limited. The only way out hinged on my Spirituality: I had to choose to commit all the way, one way or another. The Spirit spoke to me suggesting that I could quit trying to do everything myself. I could give it to Jesus, but as much as I loved Him, that didn't fit into my many years of belief patterns. I didn't know how to do that even if I wanted to. My only other option was to just give up. I could just give up trying or caring about anything, Jesus included. I could go on being the 'good' person I was but I would be dead inside. Dead people don't hurt and no one would know.

There are two components to conversion: the intellectual and the emotional. Many times they happen together. Many times they do not. The intellectual comes when we accept the Bible as the true Word of God. The emotional conversion comes when we see Jesus face to face. When we see the truest love for what it is, from that point forward things are never the same. We cannot help but want to emulate that love to all those around us.

I saw Jesus that day, in my minds eye. As I stood there staring at that paper sack, I saw Him. He was as vivid in my mind as the pain was in my heart. I stood looking at him, wondering what to do, trying to decide. And as I stood face to face with my Lord and Savior, the only thing I could imagine to be more painful than what I had experienced for the last two months would be to look into His eyes and tell Him, "Your sacrifice....was not for me".

I could not bear the thought of the pain that would inflict on Him, and I melted, so completely. The Lord brought me to my lowest point physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually so that He could lift me up. For the first time ever, I surrendered fully.

I realized in that interaction that may have lasted all of 10 seconds (though it seemed like hours) that it isn't what "I" do. Life is not all about what I do! I can't DO it right. I tried for 42 years to DO IT RIGHT. At that moment in my life, I realized that what I did was not important, but rather what He does in me. It was that transformation that would bring the obedience I desired.

Since that day the peace has been indescribable. It has been sweet, indeed. My love for Him is insurmountable. Do I occasionally get discouraged? Sometimes I start to get that way...but then I look at Him again, face to face.

On November 20, 2004, my husband and I were re-baptized at Jere Patzer's evangelistic series in Forest Grove. That day I looked at a congregation of about 300 people and shared my testimony. Never before would I have considered doing such a thing. Never before would the words have even been intelligible, for I had a serious phobia of public speaking. On that Sabbath day my words were clear, my voice resonant, and my heart stable...and rejoicing. this has been my most convincing evidence of His conversion in my life.

Pastor Vio told me just to hold on to his arm and he would bring me up out of the water. He was a strong man and I felt secure. As I went below the surface I looked up and saw how the light above the water was out of focus and shining dimly. I remembered what he said and held fast to his arm. I let him do the work, a novel concept for me. Just as he promised, I only needed to hold on. He lifted me up and out of the watery grave and the ligth became clear, what a blesed symbolism God has given us.

It was just the right time. It was perfect. It was memorable.

I believe that before we are fully converted, we will need to meet Him face to face. It will be in a different way for each of us, a different time, a different process. Ultimately we need to draw close to Him, consciously look into His eyes and tell Him whether His sacrifice was for us. If you have never looked at Jesus, I highly recommend it.

How am I doing with my performance, my 'behavior'? Well, it has never been easier. I am far from perfect but when my strength comes from the transformation that His love has made in my heart, I can look at Him and smile. I can't WAIT to see Him...Face to Face! Can you?
Praise God.

I realized that in my conversion I would have to step out in faith and trust God to supply my needs. I quit my job rather abruptly just before my baptism as I saw what the stress was doing to my life. I am currently working in a much more sane place. Since then, I have only turned down more work that I can handle. I am still a nurse, amazingly enough, and now ministering to my family, which includes many 'adopted' young adults who come and go through our home. My adopted family includes people from all over the world as they come and go through Mission College of Evangelism in Gaston, Oregon. God has blessed me so much!

CINDY'S STORY - Part 1

It had to be perfect!



I was raised in a nominal Seventh-Day Adventist family. There was an interesting mix of spirituality in our home. We were actually quite liberal....and legalistic. Our obedience was fostered from a sense of right-ness.



I was baptized when I was eleven or twelve, but it was not my idea. Someone mentioned that "it was about time." I believed in God and wanted to serve Him, I knew the doctrines.....so I was baptized. But, there was no longing, no desire.



I continued to grow up with my legalistic style and expected others to just see the black and white of things as I did, to 'buck up" and perform. After all, if we didn't....we would be lost. How important obedience is, but it comes from such a different angle for me today! I have a desire to be saved rather than just "not be lost".



I married a Seventh-day Adventist friend of many years. In fact, I did not know life without him. We met at church before I was old enough to remember such a meeting. We attended school together throughout our elementary and high school years. We married when he was 20 and I was 17. Many people said we would never make it, we were too young. The one thing we both knew was that love is a decision and divorce was not an option for either of us. This principle was clearly established by the Holy Spirit in each of our minds prior to marrying. We just celebrated our 25th anniversary. The credit for our success is the Holy Spirit's.



This is my personal testimony of conversion and therefore is very focused on my own internal struggles but I must express my appreciation to my family. All of my struggles were just that the last two years....internal. Though I did not share what was really going on in my heart until after my conversion experience, they were very loving and supportive of my needs. I appreciate and feel very unworthy of the unconditional love bestowed upon me by my family when I was choosing to drive rather than lead in every area of life. I have no doubts that there will be, at the very least, a shadow of my star in each of their crowns.



My husband Dan was always one who could see his spirituality as 'just a part of life.' He was not perfect. He and God knew this and it was life, so, carry on. But this thought process didn't fit into the idealizations, expectations and forms of perfection in my mind. The dilemma I dealt with was that I couldn't even come close to living up to the values and principles of legalism that I had been taught so well. Therefore, I tried harder.



And...we had children. At some point in the rearing process I think it was when our firstborn was about 18 months, I had a grand revelation that moved me one step towards my conversion. Even though I had been able to extract certain behaviors (whether she liked it or not) from this blessed "charge" that God had given me...I was unable to make her think the way I wanted. This was distressing. From the time I was first exposed to misbehaving little ones, I determined I WOULD raise perfect children. This criteria fit into the role of my Christian expectations because it was right, just as any good Christian knows.



Heretofore, I had been living with "all the answers" but suddenly this little 20 pound bundle of cuddles (and struggles) pulled the rug out from under my feet. THIS revelation was a serious blow, indeed.



I then attended Nursing School where I learned that there is so much information in this world that I did not know. I actually did not have all the answers. The more I learned, the more I knew I didn't know. This humbled me, bringing me another step toward conversion.

When I started a nursing job, we were required to attend Conflict Resolution classes. These were extensive and very valuable! Every person on earth should be required to attend them. What a blessing! It was here that I learned how people's different experiences affect each person's behavior. I learned that if someone didn't behave just as I thought they should...they might have had a different upbringing, different exposures, and perhaps it was not their lack of integrity that caused their behavior, but rather their lack of knowing the truth. I was again humbled, realizing that I was not so intelligent at evaluating other people's value systems...like I once thought. At that point, I learned to love and pity those souls whose behavior betrayed their lack of guidance, love and support in growing up. And I learned to be thankful for the upbringing that I had. I praised God for giving me the brotherly love that moved me one more step closer to Him.

As the years passed, we were active in church. In 2000, Black Hills Mission College of Evangelism presented an Evangelistic Series in Forest Grove, OR. Our church was to sponsor this event. We were among the usual 12 families who ALWAYS supported church events. It was the right thing to do! So, we attended the meetings to be supportive, but what we heard we had not heard before, same Bible, different stuff. The great controversy between Christ and the devil became so clear...so real. What struck me so significantly was the concept of seeing not only what God said in the Bible, but what He DIDN'T say. Suddenly the Bible came alive! Is was no longer superficial. I didn't study to prove the other guy wrong. I met the Lord on a more intellectual level than I had before. It was exciting and invigorating to explore. Though I had learned my memory verses in school and I knew the basis for Biblical doctrines, for the first time in my life, I consumed the Bible and I found myself falling in love with a 'Man' named Jesus. Now I longed for baptism, but it had to be at just the right time. It had to be perfect. It had to be memorable.

Time went on...life went on and in keeping with my upbringing, I saw more and more in the Bible of how I must behave, especially now that I loved Jesus. This presented a problem. Each time I made a mistake, I was even harder on myself. I began to work harder, to focus more...I could do it if I just put forth more effort! But what I saw in myself was so pathetic. I began struggling spiritually, trying to mix my love for Jesus into my old legalistic lifestyle. But as Satan exulted, he didn't leave me with just that. He threw every other aspect of life into the mix that he could.

Physical....
It started two years after the meetings. Not only did WE move, but we moved our house. God was leading and we could see that, but this move put us out of a place to live..literally, for four months. When we did move back into our home, there was one hassle after another and it took a total of two years of hard physical work (heavy work that women just aren't built for, and for 12-16 hours a day). Then there was always some urgent or essential thing that had to be done and I remember having about 5 literal days during those two years when I did not work each day to the point of exhaustion. Even Sabbaths were spent extending hospitality, which I derived pleasure from, but still taxed my physical resources. I felt like my life was set by everyone else's time frames. I couldn't do it anymore.

Mental....
I had changed jobs. I am an emergency room nurse. This new job was my first experience with serious trauma and critically ill cases coming at me from all directions. Our unit was short staffed for the high acuity patient population that we served and I ran 12 hours a day with minimal breaks. Many times I had more than one patient that needed treatment NOW and I had to choose which person was going to get help first...knowing the other might not survive until I got back to them. The stress was beyond comprehension for me, day after day for almost a year and it impacted every aspect of my life.

Emotional...
While trying to keep all issues of my life under control, I found another aspect very out of control. A misunderstanding occurred with a brother in the faith. I held him very dear to my heart and it was a painful experience to add to my agenda. In fact, my mental capacity was quite affected by my emotional response. Yet again, I had to keep moving. I had to go to work that day. I kept thinking I should call in sick, but I couldn't. Good Christians, who did things right, do NOT call in sick when they aren't physically ill. I went to work and asked the charge nurse to put me in the less acute area of the Emergency Room, somewhere that I couldn't "kill" somone. My emotional state was that of deep distress and I feared making a big mistake.

Within fifteen minutes of my shift I had over-medicated a sweet elderly lady, I gave the usual dose, but only 1/2 that dose was ordered. The lady ended up in ICU with tubes going everywhere, including directly into her chest. I do not know if she survived. She needed only to survive the eight hours until the drug wore off and then she would be fine. This was the only time in my life that I chose to avoid knowing the truth. I chose to remain in denial. To this day I do not know...but I have faith.

Spiritual...
I was unable to emothionally handle all of this, which tells me where I was spiritually. In my attempt to meld this new love for Jesus into my old thought processes, I was making my own life miserable. The last two years had been difficult indeed. That last two months had been excruciating. I was not dealing well with the physical and mental exhaustion, but more than that, I couldn't deal with the emotional component...the emotional turmoil of the result of my own actions.

Continued in next post

PAM'S STORY

"END OF CONSTRUCTION - THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE" Ruth Graham Bell died June 14, 2007, this was on her tombstone.

My testimony is one of a demolition and reconstruction story. Over the years since I have personally known Jesus as my Savior and have the Holy Spirit with me at all times, there has been one construction project after another.

The summer of 1976 I was introduced to the charismatic renewal in the Catholic Church. My sister and brother-in-law had just received the baptism in the Holy Spirit in southern California and moved back to Forest Grove. We then started a charismatic prayer meeting with ten other people. The first 15 years it was exciting to participate in the movement of the Spirit. Many healings were performed, spiritual as well as physical. There was a man who had his leg lengthened, a man who was cured of a brain tumor, my healings were of a more spiritual nature.

My most life changing healing took place at a retreat where I was exorcised of a demonic spirit of defiance. The removal of that spirit opened my self grafted and protected soul/spirit to many other healings. Fear of the dark was another healing that took place as a result of the brothers and sisters of the St. Anthony's prayer community praying with me. Measuring LOVE out in small quantities was healed in my spirit. I used to believe that you cannot 'really love' more than one person at a time. This misguided psychological behavior seeded itself in my soul in my youth when I was just 5 years old. Jesus took me back to that moment in time; let me re-live that experience with Him present which allowed me to learn to LOVE all people all the time. I became aware that there is no limit to the amount of love that one can give or receive.

I am a cradle Catholic born and raised in the church. Since 1976 I have come full circle from denial of all that is liturgical and regulated to being open to the catechism. I have not yet decided that I believe all that the catechism states but I am on a quest to study and decide. Everything I read I digest according to the Holy Spirit that abides within me. This interaction of the Holy Spirit is who I am and what I am. My construction period is not nearly finished; we, the Spirit and I, have a long way to go, but daily communication with Jesus is remodeling me into a child of God and sister to all.

My favorite spiritual author is Henri Nouwen. Henri, through his writing, leads me to change. Holy Scripture, as always provides a solid background for thoughts and actions of a child of God. Over the years when the Lord requires a change in me - the Lord sets the stage, provides the props, actors, and script to lead me to the next step toward Heaven on Earth. He beckons me to follow and then allows me to choose to follow His script or write my own play. In the past when I have chosen to write my own script or make changes to the play--I always end up back at the beginning. Try again is the message I hear. When I follow the Lord's script I take a step in the right direction and for my correct choice I receive: peace, love, joy, that sooths my savage soul. Dear friend, you would think by the age of 58 I would choose life each and every time - I don't - I find myself still choosing "the world, the flesh and or the devil".

As always my plan is to continue to quite myself, listen to the Holy Spirit and act on the promptings that say: Love God, Love your neighbor as yourself. When I make the wrong choice, as I often do, I repent and start over knowing that: "The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger (has a lot of patience) and rich in LOVE." Psalm 145:8

AMEN ALLELUIA
Love and Blessings to each of you

CAROL'S STORY

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart" Jer 29:13

I can't really remember NOT being a Christian - raised in the Catholic community of St. Paul where everything seemed to center around the beautiful historic church that sits magestically in that small town as a centerpiece on a beautiful table. I was raised in a culture that believed in Jesus Christ and celebrated that daily with mass and confession, fear of mortal and veneal sins, beautiful Christmas Eve services and all this was woven into the fabric of daily life as people used the church and its dictates to structure their lives.

My mother, not being Catholic, but married to one, hiked us off to the Presbyterian Church in Woodburn eight miles away. She began going to that church as a small girl. It was 1 1/2 blocks from her home. She went faithfully even though her parents did not attend church. She still attended the same church at 91 years of age.

She was my Sunday School teacher. I remember as a young child, 11 or 12, vivid dreams about the world ending and me being left behing. It scared me and I knew I was not ready to go.

One day a young man and young lady knocked on our door and invited us to attend a Sunday School class they were starting at the public school. I know now that they were students at George Fox College who had been led to do this. It became an important event for me because it was at these very small meetings, just three to five of us Protestent children that I made my committment to Christ. (Never underestimate small works!) They can be very fruitful.

This was a turning point in my life, an official decision on my part to accept Jesus into my heart and follow Him.

I grew up with my belief system in place and when I attended church, many times that excitement of the presence of the Holy Spirit was there.

When I was a young adult, I never abandoned my faith, but what took over were the unmet personal needs of my life. The deficits of one's soul and I pretty much walked in my own ways - selffullfilling, sinful, and selfish and as a result caused a lot of pain for myself and others.

I was sitting in the debrie of that in 1972 when I read an article about an event that had just taken place in the colliseum in the spring of '72.

The "Institute of Basic Youth Conflicts" and my Spirit leaped within me and said "GO!!" It was coming back in the fall on Oct. 1972.

I went, and was overwhelmed with God and recommitted my life to Christ, this time out of despair with my own condition.

When was I born again? I say Oct. '72. What about before? I believed.

Then supernaturally I was invited to Banks Methodist Church under Chaplin and Willa Hayes and the Charismatic Renewal was sweeping through the nation.

I attended almost daily Bible studies, prayer meetings, awesome gatherings where the presence of God was so strong it could flatten you. My husband became a born again Spirit filled Christian. We ate, drank and lived in the presence of the Holy Spirit for about 10 years. It was a magical time. It was beyond description, wherever you went the Holy Spirit was around us.

Then it moved on, and the presence was no longer so external and we now were left with seeking Him on our own and bringing our own thoughts into captivity to the obedience of Christ.

It was like a marriage. The flush of romance when you can leap tall buildings with a single bound, and then you are left with your marriage partner and need to learn to put them first, yield, not go with your own emotions.

So now these many years after 1972 when I fully surrendered to Christ, this is my life. Daily I seek Him, I find Him when I seek Him with all my heart or I can walk in the flesh and reap that.

I believe for me, Revival is as close as yeilding. Sometimes it is helpful to go somewhere, but mostly not, because if my heart is not fully yielded, when I get there, I still find me.

Carol's life was not all roses, even after her surrender, she lost her husband to cancer, but then married her pastor who had lost his wife to an aneurysm the year before. She and her husband pastor a small church in their hometown.

HAZEL'S STORY - Part 3

The End Of The Journey - The Beginning Of New Life

Following the time when my husband left us, I fell into a terrible depression and really began to question everything. But to whom could I turn? If you dared speak anything negative you were considered to be Satan's seed and you would be shunned. With time the messages and revelations became more distorted, even including some Hindu influences. There were times I would desperately call out to the Lord for deliverance and understanding.....Now we were required to have all night chain praises. Laurie decided that from 11 pm to 6 am we would sing and praise. In fact he had overseers that would watch and make certain that we wouldn't fall asleep or stop. We became exhausted.

One day I was bitten by a scorpion at the end of my great toe. The pain was excruciating. What was the local remedy?? They took a needle to make the hole significantly larger, then packed it with sea salt. Just when I thought I could endure no more, they then lit the salt on fire and the pain that radiated up my leg was definitely a ten!!!! However, when the pain subsided, I had no more problem as I am certain any poison was cauterized. So what did I know about scorpion bites: I needed to trust their ancient methods; and by the grace of God it worked.

Now, at this time in Madras state there were some communistic uprisings and the state fell under Marshall control. For us this meant the political climate had changed towards foreigners and also that it was difficult to get food. I recall eating rice that was rancid because it had gotten wet. It smelled like pig manure when cooked. However, we were so hungry, that we would close our noses in order to swallow and get something into our stomach. I remember stripping leaves off trees and trying to cook them so the children would have some form of vitamins.

The German, Swiss and US governments had advised their citizens to return home. Now many of the residents were contacting relatives at home for return tickets and leaving. There was no choice now for Laurie but to allow the people to leave, it was beyond his control. Because Canadians were part of the Commonwealth, they were not asked to leave. Finally, in July 1977 the Indian government informed me that my eight your old American son would have to leave; thus was the hatred toward Americans at this time. It was then that I was allowed to contact my now ex-husband. He was faithful to his promise and did send return tickets.

Upon my arrival in Canada, I made a collect call to the children's daddy. He happened to be home that day sick and we were able to talk briefly. To my shock he arrived the very next morning with his new wife, even before I was awake. I was terrified, thinking that he would take the children away from me now. As we faced each other we began to cry and it became apparent to all present, that there was still love between us. As I had faithfully told the children over the years that they had a wonderful daddy that loved them there was no fear for them to see him, only joy. That day they spent with him. Later he requested that I return to the United States so that he could spend more time with his children, and I concurred.

The culture shock was horrendous. I knew nothing of 'Watergate', fashion, changes of the past six years. After almost eleven years away from the workforce, I would return to nursing to try to support myself and my children. The spiritual confusion was worst of all. I had lost my reality with truth. I was taught that all denominations were of the Babylon system and now to whom should I turn to for support and fellowship?? Oh yes, I continued to pray, but my theology was wrong and I had believed a deceiving spirit. What I actually needed was to be 're-programed', but at that time it did not seem available.

After months of sleepless nights, I finally made a decision to seek help from a minister. When I shared my story with him, I could see he was at a loss as to how to help or even pray for me. I left in despair. Emotionally, it was also difficult to remain in the same city as my former husband. I then moved five hundred miles away to pick up a relationship with a man I had known previously. Here I began to attend a small church where every Sunday I heard the message of the love of God and His mercy. This penetrated all my darkness and fear. How soothing it was to my wounded soul. For so long I had lived under fear, not love; bondage, not freedom; confusion, not truth. I had allowed someone else to tell me how to behave, what to believe rather than taking responsibility for my own spiritual growth. I now realized I needed deliverance from all the lies and thoughts that were still tormenting my mind. Would God forgive my blatant error, my willful sin? When I approached this minister, he simply told me to come after the service every Sunday evening and he would anoint me with oil and pray that my mind would be set free of all previous teachings. This is did. I can tell you that no longer do I, nor do I wish to recall the twisted doctrine of lies that I heard preached. For me, the struggle I had was accepting Gods' forgiveness. I was tormented with guilt realizing all the damage I had caused. My broken marriage, my children without their daddy in the home; I was so ashamed. Because of this shame I did not want to tell my story for years. I realize now that I should have had counseling, which may have saved much heartache in relationships, in matters of learning to trust again, or to accept authority. Decision making became extremely difficult for me as I would always second guess myself. The question always came up, "was I taking another wrong turn, was this decision going to impact someone else's life??"

Little by little the Holy Spirit would reveal these things as I struggled with them and helped to set me free and find balance again. More than ever before I saw the importance of 'rightly dividing the Word of Truth', and this became a mission for me as I studied the Bible. Anyone can read the Bible and make it say what they want to by taking scriptures out of context. I now ask the Holy Spirit to reveal the Word to me and let the Bible speak to me.

Some of the lessons I learned from all this:

1. Before you make major decisions, seek wise counsel from elders--and not among your peers or own fellowship group as they well only agree with your opinion.

2. Don't believe that anyone person or group holds all the truth or revealed word of God. This is arrogance. (read Ezk. 13-14) about prophets that prophesy out of their own imagination saying, "the Lord declares". Also in Rev. 22:18 about anyone that adds to or takes away from the word of God.

3. It is important to become mature in the use of Gods' word. Heb. 5:14 says, But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil. Remember Satan often appears as an angel of light and many times sits in the front pews.

4. Fear the Lord; meaning to respect Him and hate sin as He does. Do not fear man or be ensnared by his words. Christ has set us free to live and be led by the Spirit.

5. Have a heart quickly ready to repent when you know you have taken a wrong path or listened to a wrong spirit. Arrogance and pride God resists, but with those of humble hearts He will restore by His grace.

I thank God everyday for His forgiveness and His restoring grace in my life. I pray that this testimony will bear witness to the mercy of God to deliver when we are led astray. He doesn't abandon us when we turn to Him with a heart full of repentance. In these days when there are many voices screaming for our attention and saying that we have the true way, stay with the simple truth of Gods' word and let Him guide you into all truth.

HAZEL'S STORY - Part 2

ARRIVING IN INDIA

Our anticipation was high arriving in India, we knew the trumpet call of Christ was near. As the plane descended, the smell of curry, sweat and humidity came up into my nostrils and I wondered, "do I have what it takes to endure???" The temporary discomforts of heat, bugs, strange foods, strange languages, strange customs, "would be endured with gladness and no murmuring", we were informed. The six yards of sari that I wore were soon drenched in sweat as our Ambassador car journeyed onward to our destination. Setting two deep in the car, being overcrowded was soon to be an everyday occurrence . As we arrived in a small village, Gandinager, we were now only fifty miles up from the tip of India. Truly, we were in a remote area of south India. Many of the Indians there had never seen white people before. Both of my children were blond and many of the natives just wanted to touch their skin or their hair. In their world only their gods were white skinned.

Daily, people arrived from many countries. There were some from Switzerland, Germany, Canada, USA as well as from different states in India.

We attended services twice daily on the house rooftops. The services went on for many hours as each message had to be translated into five different languages. Housing was provided there for six months while an 'ASHRAM' was being prepared for us in a desert area about fifteen miles from there. In each house several families were placed, trying to cope with cultural changes and with different personalities. Each day held new challenges. The constant battle with bed bugs, food too spicy for children and adults, and diarrhea wore on all of us. As time elapsed, P. Laurie kept us encouraged with his messages and new revelations. Finally, the time arrived to move to the desert and we were placed in small cement rooms with a large pundle in front, which was like a large cement patio with a palm thatched roof. This was a common area for all during the day. Foreigners were in one long block and the Indians were in another block. We met in the open aired tabernacle at sunrise and sunset. For meals we sat squat legged on the cement patio with our tin bowl and ate with our right hand as do the Indians. Breakfast consisted of a black bean called 'carnum' a food usually fed to goats, high in protein. The evening meal was usually red rice and a thick vegetable and dhal sauce. Saturday, the Sabbath, was a day of fasting for all, including the children. If they cried with hunger we just gave them another drink of water. We were required to read ten chapters of scripture daily. My son and daughter both learned to read in this manner. Following services in the morning, the women would rush to the large well to wash their clothes on the rocks and dry them in the breeze before the intense heat of the day. In the afternoons we would lay on our straw mats on the cement floor to rest until the heat or monsoon rains had passed. In the tropics darkness came at six pm. Before this, we all would have a simple shower by pouring water over ourselves from a bucket, and be prepared for service. Our evening meal consisted of a slice of bread and some sort of sauce; small pieces of meat in a sauce was only allowed once a week. Sleeping was simple, you just lay down with your clothes on, upon your straw mat side by side with probably six or seven persons in a small room. In monsoon season we had mosquito nets over us. This was our daily routine.

We saw many strange sights, there were oxen trampling out corn and women winnowing out the chaff for straw baskets. Oxen drew water from deep wells with a rubber bladder made from inner tubes. There were snake charmers that were called in to eradicate the cobras from their holes; then they were put into large gunny sacks and taken on local buses to the universities to be used for their venom. I once rode in a taxi with a dead woman sitting upright next to me, with her jaw securely tied with a red ribbon. Later as we stopped by a well, I was told to wash and prepare this woman for her burial, which was in the next few hours. This of course had to be done because of the intense heat. We saw small ribbons of lights in the night as oxen teams pulled wooden 'red river carts' on their way to the markets. We saw goat herders in the desert with only a lunge (loin cloth) and their staff. The goats would climb up the branches of the acacia tree for the green leaves. We witnessed low cast Indian women running after oxen to pick up the moist dung and put it in baskets on their heads. This would then be plastered on the sides of huts like hamburger patties to dry in the sun and be sold for fire fuel. These poor women in their tattered, faded saris had no blouses underneath, no shoes on their feet. In their ears were strange earrings made of small cubicle blocks, covered in gold. because they were so heavy, the skin of the ear lobe stretched like a stirrup down to their shoulders. Then there were the sacred cows that wandered through market places and pushed over vegetable stalls, no one seeming to mind. Thousands of Hindu gods could be seen, displayed on the outsides of their temples. All of this was India, yet, we were secluded in the ashram for the next five and a half years, waiting, waiting, waiting for the return of Christ. Here we had no electricity, no telephones, no newspapers, no radio or any other communication with the outside world.

After three years, suddenly my husband arrived. Before his arrival some of Laurie's spies had informed us that he was on his way to the ashram and we were told to quickly prepare. He, of course, was shocked to see how lean we were, and the heat rash all over the children appeared as though they had some terrible disease.

We were allowed to leave for a week with him to a resort area where he attempted to talk some sense into me. I was so filled with fear that I may lose my salvation if I left, yet, everything in me cried out to leave. I was also very aware that I was being followed by two of Laurie's men, as they anticipated that my husband may try to kidnap us. Finally, I asked my dear husband to forget about me and go on and make a new life without me. He saw only how brainwashed I was, and in frustration he decided to leave. Through tearful good-byes he promised to send me airline tickets whenever I came to my senses and wanted to return to the USA. We had no money of our own, and no way to leave otherwise.

(To Be Continued)

HAZEL'S STORY - Part 1

I was blessed to be raised in a Christian home with parents that loved me. At the age of five years, Jesus Christ was very real to me and I knew He would answer even my simplest prayers. In our small village in Canada, there were only three churches. Our church had just a few families, so the bond of love was tight and comforting as I learned the stories of Jesus. At the age of thirteen, my family attended revival meetings in another town and I heard for the first time about the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the gift of speaking in tongues. I couldn't wait to be prayed for. This infilling was probably one of the most significant events of my life. The joy and encouragement of this gift has sustained me in many dark hours, and continues today.

Following graduation from nursing school I made the decision to go to the USA where there was a group of believers functioning in the gifts of the Spirit, as in the early church, and I wanted to learn more. Here I studied God's word and had time to meditate. However, after one year this group began to disintegrate as the leader left. Many of the believers were wounded aand disorientated by this experience, and my faith grew cold as well. Quickly my mind turned to other things; I returned to nursing and looked for another group of believers to fellowship with, but found none. Within a short time I met a young man in college and married him.

Now, my husband, a non practicing Catholic, did attend church with me after moving to Colorado, spiritual things were not particularly high on his radar as he was interested in getting estabished in his career. For the next two years I again was being convicted by the Holy Spirit about my lukewarm condition and repented. By this time we had moved back to Canada where my husband accepted a veterinarian position in a small farming community.

Here, I became very isolated and lonely. To establish a practice required long hours of work and many days on call. Because I felt like a wife alone, I desperately wanted fellowship and friends. I also wanted to grow spiritually. In this small community I found a group of believers studying the bible in their homes and was invited to join. How excited I was. Soon I discovered they were talking about an end time prophet named Marion Branham. This man had held large tent meetings with healings in the USA. Apparently God had given him many revelations about what was to happen before the final rapture of the Bride of Christ. Though Branham was now deceased, they were devouring his books to learn abuot the end times and the book of revelations. All of this was very stimulating to someone so hungry to learn more about the things of God. It was all so new.

Little by little I began to withdraw from things of the 'world' and prepare myself for that day. I wore long dresses and long hair, and had all the outward signs of a believer; so I believed. It was then discovered in some of his writings that he foretold of a man that would succeed him, who would come from the east and gather the Bride of Christ together in a desert area. As people were reading these books all over the world it wasn't long before someone came from India declaring that he was this person.

He began to produce his own writings that dovetailed with Branham. Many people questioned this, however, the group that I was with were convinced that this was the fulfillment of prophecy. Paulaseer Laurie then made a trip to Canada and further convinced the believers that he indeed was called by God for this purpose. He was masterful at using the book of revelations to prove his point. So it happened that after he left, two Canadian men actually made a trip to India to see where they were to take their families and test if this really was true. Upon their return, the 'believers' began to sell their houses, farms and rid themselves of all their material possessions.

We had by this time returned to the United States for my husband's job, and though I was absent from the group, I was still in contact with them and now in a personal quandary. I had two beautiful children, how could I possibly go to India and leave my husband? Yet, I was convinced that this is what I needed to do if I truly loved Christ. I felt it was a test. Did I love earthly things more than I loved to be with Christ? Therefore, my prayer was, "God, if this is of you, then make a way. I need airfare, I need my husband to agree that I take the children, and to sign their passports." My husband had noticed the changes in me, but because I was still a good wife and mother, he chose to ignore these signs. He continued to be very busy with his practice. I continued to move forward to my goal and get rid of all my earthly things, taking many trips to the Goodwill. Finally my husband said, "I don't understand this pull that you have to go to India, but I can tell you that if you are there for 1 month you will get your fill of heat, snakes and bugs, and then maybe you will be able to come home and put this foolishness behind you. So I will sign for the children's passports."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, surely this could only be from God, right? So, with my two year old daughter and three year old son, we drove to Canada to join the others that were headed to India. My husband and I said our sad good-byes; very difficult, he believing that his wife would return soon and forget all this, and me believeing that it would all soon be over and I would be raptured and all earthly sorrow behind me. It was July 1971.

DIANE'S STORY

I was raised by intellectuals who professed that God is nothing more than a human manifestation of what we can't answer for ourselves, and they both totally believed in science. They truly were the Karl Sagen generation. However, we did go to church, the Methodist Church. At the age of seven we lived right next door to a Methodist Church. The parsonage was behind it. I absolutely loved visiting the pastors wife. She was probably the first real Christian in my life.

As I grew up and became more sophisticated, and being an individual, decided to take my own path to true enlightenment. This included Baba Remdos, Metaphysics, Interpersonal Dynamics, etc.

In my 40's I realized that everything I had based my decisions on was worthless. There was a song out by Simply Red called, "Holding Back the Years". One of the lyrics went like this, "holding back the tears, because nothing had a chance to be good, because nothing ever could". It expressed the condition of my life. I had failed on every level, as a mother, wife and I felt, as a person. I was a walking cadaver. I had been married twice. My first husband deserted us. Us being my blind, autistic, retarded daughter, who was now in a group home. The second was a physically abusive, very well decorated Vietnam Vetern. My life was a shambles. Where do you turn? I felt I had no choice. Either I could continue on the same path, and expect different results or I could change my path. I thought it smarter to change my course completely, so began my seeking God.

I took courses at Portland State, in Women's Spirituality, part of the women's studies program. Some of it was great, and some I could have lived without. Especially the part about Wicca's and Witches. Because I had felt that I had known God as a child, I decided the intellectual path was the wrong way for me to seek Him. So I regressed to that very special and spiritual place that I had known Him as a child. Growing up I spent many hours in the woods. Basically I'd only return home if I was hungry or tired. I experienced God in those places with the beauty of His creation all around me. I started to talk to Him, and I had a sense that He was always with me.

As an adult I had to return to that simple understanding and faith. So I started to seek a church, a body of believers, that could help me with my journey. I went to seven different churches in one year. I settled on Living Enrichment Center. They seemed to be loving, non-judgemental, and offered a positive message, rather than negative.

Little did I know, again this was still the wrong direction. In that same yar I met Reed, in the dust of a baseball diamond watching my then eight year old son play ball. Reed had a special quality about him. He also had some very strange relationships. There was obviously his son, (also on the baseball team) but the mother of the same son, and she with her new husband, and they all seemed to be friends.

Now, I had been through divorce , and it was anything but friendly. So at one of the games Reed and I ended up talking. We shared the devastation that divorce had caused in our lives. To make a long story short, one day he left tracts on my coffee table. I wish I still had them, so I could know exactly what it said, but it spoke to me about a lifetime of hurt, turned into good. It gave me the best promises I'd ever heard in my life. So on July 12th, 1989, all by myself, I gave my life to Christ. It was so personal I really didn't want to make it a public display, however, I don't judge the people who go up when there is an alter call. I absolutely love Billy Graham. I was there as a Chrristian in Portland, Oregon when he was at the Beavers stadium. It was awesome! So many souls saved.

Back to the saving of my soul, and to make another long story short, I married the man that led me to Christ. Reed also led me to what was the most perfect church for me as a new Christian to worship. The very first biblestudy I attended in that church was the study of the book of Acts.

My life has been anything but a walk in the park since becoming a Christ Believer. The one common thread however, is I'm no longer alone, and I'm learning to more and more just relax in His loving care. After being married for 10 years to Reed, one Saturday afternoon in April 1999, he collapsed with a brain aneurysm. He never recovered. There was too much brain damage. I was left with a huge financial mess, and three fully grown step children that felt they deserved more than what they were getting. I had to downsize big time, just to live.

I sold our big beautiful house in West Slope, and moved to the acreage we had planned on retiring to. It had a single wide trailer. God was still ever faithful. He had put circumstances together so that at this very time, I had Susannah living with me. She was a devote Christian young lady from China. She and I held each other up. She was my helpmate, friend and daughter.

Three weeks after burying my husband, I was in the hospital with thyroide cancer. Susannah made it possibnle for me to get through it. Not even my own children could have done what she did for me. We moved to the farm and she started school at Western Seminary, where she met her now husband. At her engagement party we had at the farm, she introduced me to one of her fellow classmates who had recently lost his wife. I told him if he needed someone to talk to, I was available, having lost my husband 10 months before. He ended up taking me up on my offer, and helped me gravel my road, and came out for dinner once in awhile.

Then in March, at a women's retreat, I was looking into the mirror of a brightly lit bathroom, and I noticed a little wrinkle in my breast. I felt it, and discovered in the deep tissue was a lump. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It turned out to be stage II, which meant I would need to have either a mastectomy or a lumpectomy, chemo and radiation. I had said I would never remarry when I lost Reed. It was just too hard to learn to live with another person, let alone the opposite sex. However, my heart was totally melted by this wonderful Godly man that Susannah had brought into my life. I felt I could trust him no matter what...but how could he commit to me now? I had cancer, and he had lost the love of his life to cancer already, why would he take the chance on another? But he did. We went through it together. My husband and his sons gave me my life back. I believe, had it not been for them, I never would have gone through this battle with cancer. So, for that first year as a new family, we took the time to grieve the loss of both Reed and Lydia.

I am now eight years out from cancer, and no sign of it returning. Chris who was 5 when he came into my life is now 13 years old and thriving. When we got married, English was Chris' second language, but since I was dyslexic, I understood his struggles. I spent many hours playing mama bear, with him on my lap reading together. He is now a 4. student.

My husband is a chaplain at St. Vincent Hospital, the very place we both lost our partners. God really can and does take very bleak situations and turn them into good, if we remain faithful to Him.

BARB'S STORY

He First Chose Me

I grew up in the Methodist church in Eugene, Oregon and went to church with mom and my sister. I didn't meet Jesus there, however. Dad had left shortly before I was born.

My teacher in 5th grade was a mighty black man (I mean African-American) by the name of Clyde De Berry. He could run any red light in Eugene and no cop would touch him. He was head of CORE, that's Coalition On Racial Equality, I think. I learned to debate but not many math skills. He gave us an assignment to report on the origin of man, and I chose the biblical account, instead of the more accepted encyclopedia version. Every Monday morning Mr. DeBerry would ask me if I'd gone to church, so I refused to go so I didn't have to tell him I did.

When I was a junior in high school, I heard a rock band visiting our school's auditorium singing about Jesus. The Lord touched my heart and I gave my life to Him. My boyfriend Ross, who I married some ten years later, thought I was crazy. I went home and told my mom. She was happy for me, but didn't really relate to my excitement. I conveniently placed Christ in my pocket for emergencies and went on my merry way.

After graduation I lived in various less than healthy situations and managed to contact Hepatitis B from slicing my foot on broken glass up the river. Before anyone knew for sure what was wrong with me, they removed my shrunken gall bladder and discovered my hepatic liver. They couldn't medicate me for post-operative pain, and I went a bit crazy at that point. With stays in the psychiatric unit and Salem State Hospital, doctors told my mother that I would never leave the hospital. Our precious Savior had other plans for me. One afternoon as I was contemplating
my own death and that of my mother, Jesus spoke my name and said, "You know better than all that, and I am here." That truly was the beginning of my healing road with Jesus. He rescued me numerous times after that, and brought Ross back into my life after he'd found the Lord.

But that decade from age 18 was wrought with flesh and disobedience with me not yet appreciating just what God did for me through His Son. Having had no earthly father, I was determined to find out all I could about the male of the species. Could they all be like Clyde DeBerry? Being a child of the 60's and 70's. "Love the One You're With" was my anthem. I was putty in the hands of Planned Parenthood with their "just a mass of tissue" lie, and subsequently had three abortions, one of which they labeled a 'period inducement' and told me that I didn't want to know the result of the pregnancy test. When after marrying Ross I miscarried at the same 5 weeks that I'd aborted before, I just knew that was the end of babies for me. We now have four children. That's the kind of redeeming God we have.

I received phenomenal healing through working and counseling at the crisis pregnancy center when I was first married. Then one day some years later, God showed me my four babies on Jesus' lap. He loves us so much.

"Steel sharpens steel" surely describes our marriage. I'm grateful that Ross and I were baptized together when we were first married. God has been profoundly faithful in every way, but especially how He, or the Holy Spirit, has spoken to my heart just when I needed to hear Him. Fibromyalgia is a challenge, but causes me to be more dependant on the Lord. Probably had its beginnings when I knocked my front teeth out on a parked car from a sled when I was seven.

I cling to His Living Word, and remind myself that He said, "Fear Not," "My Grace is Sufficient", "Stay the Course" and "Wait upon Me". He's saved me from physical and spiritual death, and I will praise Him all the days of my life.

MARNIE'S STORY

Psalm 139:16; "and in Your book they were all written, the days fashioned for me. When as yet there were none of them."

My testimony is not of salvation, but God's faithfulness to me. My assurance is that I am His and He takes care of me.

Psalms 139 tells me that God, Himself, "fashioned my days." He knew I was being born into a violent home. My mother was eventually diagnosed schizophrenic and she had always been extremely violent verbally and physically.

My earliest memory of my mother was one of fear. I was about three years old crouched in the back of a dark closet, knowing I needed to stay quiet. I was afraid to be found by her. In that memory I was not alone. Someone was crouched with me, comforting me, and assuring me that I would be okay. It was Jesus.

At seven years old, I remember waking in the middle of the night to the noise of violence on the other side of my door. It was the most fear I ever remember feeling. Suddenly, at the foot of my bed, there sat Jesus, flesh and blood, not ghost like. I knew instantly who He was and felt safe.

Jesus laid His hand on me and told me that I never needed to be afraid. He promised me He would always be there to protect me, even when I could not see Him.

I never saw Jesus in flesh and blood again, but I felt His presence many times in many different circumstances from that time until now.

God knew the life I would face. He "fashioned my days". God knew I was going to need an experience to hold on to. The blessing of an unbelievably violent, fearful childhood was being allowed to know how very close Jesus always was to me.

Today there is no place I go, there is no difficulty I face, that Jesus is not there with me. I have nothing to fear. I have a book of promises of God's faithfulness to me.

It is never about whether God is in my midst, it is only about wheather I realize how extremely close He is.

God is not only in my midst, He is sovereign and promises "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5 NKJ). God sits beside YOU, stands next to YOU, puts His arms around YOU to comfort and encourage and strengthen YOU. There will never be anything for you to fear. God has fashioned your days and intimately created you for those days. He will always be with you and nothing is to big for the Lord.

FLORENCE'S STORY - Part 2

Florence's Story - part 2

My children were in school and they were being taught how to hate and to kill Americans. I didn't want them to grow up hating. I knew I had to get them out of the country to a better life. I prayed to God about this problem and asked for His help. A neighbor had arranged for passage for his family on a ship leaving Viet Nam. He had paid a deposit and then found a better passage. He agreed to sell me his deposit so that my children and I could leave. I still had diamonds that I could sell. The cost of the deposit was twenty gold leaves (each leaf worth about $900 US). I got exactly that amount when I sold my diamonds.

My oldest child, Henry, was ten, my daughter Marlene was eight, and my youngest son, Andy was three when we left Viet Nam. For the three day journey to Malaysia, 342 people were crammed into a boat about 60 feet long and 15 feet wide with a very small engine. There was no food, and very little water. A storm came up the night before the last day. The entire boatload of people were in terror crying and screaming. Many were sick and some died. When someone died they were thrown overboard. I prayed. I told God that if this was the way He would take me home, so be it. I slept, a very calm sleep. The next day someone sighted land, and jumped out and grabbed hold of the rope as they walked to shore. We had one tiny suitcase which contained the only possessions we had. I carried my toddler and told Henry to bring the suitcase. He tried to hold onto it, and I told him to let it go in the water. For some reason I thought it would float, and he could use it to help get to shore. We finally did get to land and I realized that my Bible was inside, wrapped in a blue towel! When we opened the suitcase, everything was completely waterlogged, except the Bible. While there was some water damage on the edges, the pages of the Bible were bone dry.
We were settled in a refugee camp in Malaysia which was opened in 1975 for boat people. Conditions were terrible, it was a very dangerous place especially for women. Maylaysian sholdiers beat and raped many of the women. To keep them away, I kept myself unkempt and smelly. Because of mosquitos, many were sick with malaria. An old schoolmate of mine who lived at the bottom of the hill in the camp brought me mosquito netting to protect my children. At Christmastime when I prayed that I would have something special to give my children, that same schoolmate brought me two apples and a handful of candy. I never saw him again.

It was 1978. Some of the refugees had been in the camp for a very long time. Red Cross workers interviewed us. They said that I would be sponsored by a country in the Western world, but I didn't know which one. I prayed that God would take me to live with His family. We were in the camp only eight and a half months when a Reformed Christian Church in Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada sponsored me and my children. They were good people, but very strict. They worked hard and expected everyone else to work hard too. They gave us a place to live and twenty dollars a week. That was all we had for food and utilities and everything else we needed. I knew no English and didn't know how I was going to take care of myself and my children. I felt isolated. But I remembered Isaiah 42:3, "A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice." I knew that if I trusted God, He would help me. I was encouraged by Romans 8:28: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."

When I had been in Bowmanville for about three months, I began to show the ladies of the church what I could sew. I began making clothing for them. Then I went to work for a dress shop at minimum wage. I prayed that I would be able to get a good education for my children; I asked God to enable me to earn enough money to do that. A men's clothing store sent the garments that needed alterations to the dress shop. When Jack, the owner of the store, saw the quality of the work I did, he gave me the space above his store for my own shop. I did all of his alterations as well as developing my own business. I worked sixteen hour days. I still do not understand how I could do what I did. We had arrived in 1978 with nothing and by 1984 I was able to buy a house. God is so good!

After I was safely in Canada, I tried to find out where my husband was. I learned that he had no interest in seeing me or our children. He was in Hong Kong, married with a new family. I felt that I was not to have a husband. I didn't want a husband! But God had other plans for me.

In the spring of 1985, Jean Marie Nadeau was working in Bowmanville, Kingston, 125 miles east was his home base, and he was getting ready to leave when he went by Jack's clothing store and saw a pair of pants he liked. He had shopped there often so they had his measurements. Jack's wife said that he could have the pants in ten minutes. He brought them up to my shop expecting the tailor to be a man. I told him they would be ready in ten minutes so he went out for coffee. When he came back he asked me what my husband did for work. I told him I didn't have a husband. He asked for my phone number, and I gave him the number at my shop. He came back a few days later and bought another pair of pants. He asked me out for coffee, but I didn't want to go. But he was very persistant. He sometimes bought pastries at a nearby bakery and brought them up to share with me. He bought five pair of pants and had them all altered. Finally my daughter and her friend, who were by now teenagers, urged me to go out with Jean Marie. I thought about it and the next time he asked me, I asked him, "If you die tonight, where are you going to go?" He replied that he was just asking me out for coffee, but then he said he believed in Jesus and would go to be with Him. I then asked him, "Do you drink?" He said "no", I asked, "Do you smoke?" He said no. I said that was hard to believe, and he said that if I wanted to find out more about him I would have to go out for coffee, so I said, "Okay, Sunday afternoon at two o'clock. And I'll bring my little boy with me." That was the beginning of our relationship.

I learned that Jean Marie had been born again in 1975 - the year my husband left me in Saigon. He had been divorced in 1968 because he had a drinking problem. But in 1975 he became clean and sober. In 1983 when he first moved to Bowmanville, he got down on his knees and told God that he would like to meet a woman who believed in God, didn't drink and didn't smoke. He added, "I'd like to meet an Oriental woman." By 1985 he had really given up looking for someone and had forgotten his plea to God. We were married on February 22, 1986 when I was 38 and Jean Marie was 45. As we said our vows he remembered that he had prayed to meet an Oriental woman who did not drink or smoke. He heard God say, "This is my gift to you my son!" and he started to cry.

My youngest soon Andy is a rebel and as he was growing up, he and Jean Marie often quarrelled. My older son and my daughter got along well with him. In 1990, my son Henry asked to borrow my car to go on a trip to the US for two weeks before his return to college in September. Because he is so dependable I didn't hesitate to say yes. He never returned. I tried to get the police to investigate, but because Henry was twenty-one and an adult, they said they could do nothing. I prayed for him all the time.

In 1987 we had sponsored my adopted mom and my brother to come to Canada to live. The whole time that Henry was missing, my mother was very sick in the hospital. One night Andy and Jean Marie were arguing. I couldn't take it anymore. I yelled at them, "Grandmother is in the hospital dying, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Why can't you guys get along?" My ear heard very clearly a voice saying: "Henry is not yours; he is mine!" I didn't understand then, but later I realized that God was telling me that Henry was with Him.

As my mother was close to death she was struggling and fearful. They called the pastor to the hospital. He read Matthew 11:28-30: "Come to me all you who are weary..." I translated for her from English to Chinese as he read and explained to her about Jesus. My mom stopped struggling and became peaceful. She told me, "Henry is okay." She died on March 17th and we buried her on Saturday, March 20th. The next night, Sunday, two constables knocked on the door and asked for Henry's dental records to identify a body that had been found in a national park in the U.S. We received Henry's remains the following Thursday and buried him next to his grandmother on March 27, 1991. On their tombstone we had engraved Job 1:21: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."

God is good! Praise His name!

FLORENCE'S STORY

God Is So Good - Part 1

I am Chinese, born to parents who had fled from China to Saigon in Viet Nam when the communists came into power in 1946.

My father was an opium addict. Addicts were not allowed to remain in Viet Nam and when he was deported my mother was desperate. She had three children and did not know what to do without a husband. I was just a baby.

Girls and women were treated as without value in the Chinese culture at that time. If a woman did not bear children so that her husband's line could continue, he was allowed to divorce her. My mother found a woman who had been married seven years and had no children. She sold me to that woman for $200 so that she would have money to take her other children to the border to join my father.

As a little girl I felt that my adoptive father loved me. Ironically, when I was about four years old, my mother became pregnant. Unfortunately, children could not save her marriage. My father fell in love with another woman and left my adoptive mother, my baby brother and me. My mother was bitter. She seemed to blame me, and took her rage out on me. She told me that I was "bad, bad, bad!" I believed that I was worthless.

I was always looking for love. I especially missed my father's love. When I was five I started going to school. Each day, on my way to school, I passed a Christian church. I was learning to read. On a sign outside the church was John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." God loved everybody! God loved me! I didn't know what that really meant at the time, but it was my first encounter with God.

My family, as most of the Chinese people I knew, were not Christian. They were ancestor worshipers. In high school I had a classmate who was Catholic, and who talked to me about Christ, but I wouldn't listen to her.

After high school I attended a special school where I learned sewing and tailoring. I was always looking for love and security. When I was nineteen I married a man twenty years older than I was. He was very wealthy and powerful in Saigon. He owned a chicken farm and a factory which made electrical wire. He didn't have much education because his father died when he was only ten and as the oldest boy, he had to work to help support his family. My husband was very smart, and some of his dealings were probably a little shady. I had no money worries and didn't know anything about handling money. When he had business dinners or parties, I had to go with him and look pretty and be friendly to his associates. I would smile and sometimes when we got home, he would think I was too friendly with some man, and was trying to get him to my bed. He would beat me.

We had two children and I was expecting our third, when two months before the fall of South Vietnam to the communists, my husband told me he was going to leave Viet Nam because he was worried about losing all his assets there. He would set up a business and establish a home and then send for us. I believed him, but never heard from him again.

When the communists took over they took everything. My husband had left a bank account and four vehicles as well as his businesses, but the government confiscated it all. They gave each family about $200 of their money. It was rather like getting 200 pesos for $1,000 USD. The government said that when that money was gone, they would give us more, but they never did.

Food was scarce. My mother and brother lived with us. I knew nothing about taking care of myself or supporting myself and my family. I sold my jewelry and almost all the personal property just to help us survive. I was very depressed, I even thought about committing suicide. I had a good friend who talked with me about Christ and urged me to go to church with her. I refused many times, but finally agreed to go. At the service they performed a skit about the prodigal son. God opened my eyes and let me know that He loved me. I was sobbing the entire time. My friend gave me a Bible and I read it all the way from Genesis to Revelation. For about a month my friend worked with me and answered my questions. Alone one night I cried out, "Christ, if you are real, show yourself to me!" First I saw His eyes looking into my soul and He said, "I understand you; I truly understand you." No one had ever understood me before. For the first time I felt valued. He showed me His hands with the nail marks.

My friend said that I should study with her pastor who could help me to learn and understand more. So for ten weeks he worked with me every Wednesday and Friday, answering all my questions. He told me that Christ was with us all the time. I had only to ask and He would show me His will for me. I still did not understand how He could have died for me - nobody would die for ME!

The Eagle Story

Remembered by Bobby McLeod; as told to her at a Canadian Baptist Women's Conference, by a missionary.

Eagles mate for life. They are found nearly everywhere in the world.

They build their nest together using the most prickly of branches and twigs and the nest which is deep, is usually a yard (or metre) wide with a broad rim around it. When completed the female pulls off all her down and lines the nest with it, making it a gentle cradle for her eggs. Both of the parents attend the eggs and after a natural time the eggs hatch into the downy nest.

Then the work really begins as now they have not only themselves to feed but the voracious chicks which are never full. The chicks grow rapidly.

The time comes when the nest is nearly too full of the chicks and they begin to hop onto the ledge and walk around. Soon they are all walking on the ledge and the time is drawing near for them to learn to fly. The mama eagle goes into the nest and removes any of the remaining down and the cozy home disappears, to be replaced by the prickly sticks.

Then the parents begin to push the chicks off the ledge. At first, the chicks just tumble down but one of the parents fly under and catch the small bird on their wings and return it to the ledge. Over and over again this happens; push off, fall, catch, bring back. They do it until the babies learn to fly and land on the rim of the nest. However, the job is not over for the parents, they must continue to feed the young birds and at the same time teach them to hunt. It takes a long summer before the young birds finally fly off and find an area of their own.

By this time, both adults are worn out. Their tail feathers are tattered, they are missing some of their pin feathers, and they can no longer soar like before. Their beaks are worn down and they have little or no flesh on their bodies but their parenting job is over for this season.

At this point, each of them goes to find a crevice in the hill and they back into it and lay down to wait.

Bit by bit the beak, the feathers, the down grow back and they can again fly and hunt, if that is the season of their life - ready to meet up and do it all again next spring.

Sometimes, there will be no 'new' spring but rather an aging. A time to just be until their life is over.

This should not be considered a sadness but rather a completion.

There are several points to be learned from this story of reality - and even this story has the Creator God in it. The eagles do not know how to praise God as we do, however they never falter in their God given life to complete what they were put on earth to do.
So it should be with us.

ARDA'S STORY

I was blessed from the beginning of my life to be born into a Christian family where the church was the center of our lives. I cannot remember a day of my years at home where we did not have our family altar each morning before going to school or other activies planned for the day. These years were also those where we attended revival meetings each year, and our family never missed going even though it meant my mother had to get five children ready to go. With this type of training the Lord touched my life very early and at the are of ten I accepted Christ.

I would like to say that I have always walked in the ways of the Lord but after leaving home I drifted away from Him but the Lord was faithful and in His mercy drew me back into the fold.

I remember in particular one incident in my life in my early teens when I was in a car with a group of young people and the driver lost control of the car, and we went over an embankment and into a ravine and I ended up in the hospital. When my mother came to the hospital, she told me the Lord had awakened her in the night and she felt led to pray for my safety and God answered her prayer in a special way. How grateful we can be for praying mothers.

I was almost 30 years of age before God gave me a son and it was at the time of his birth that I felt again the desire to be what God wanted me to be. My husband had never attended church but the church where my parents attended always had a Sunday night service, which was evanglistic, and before each service members of the church family met to pray for lost members of their families. My mother had frequently asked us to attend and finally one Sunday night my husband agreed to go and that night he was wondrously saved and he served to Lord until his death. My son is now a pastor of a Vineyard Church and I have three wonderful Christian grandchildren, one of them serving in a mission for handicapped children in Mexico.

I had a very frightening experience in my home in Mazatlan where I was attacked by a young Mexican boy and once again God saw fit to spare my life. I will never forget as I was losing consciousness the peace that the Lord gave to me and the assurance I was one if His. I pray for this young man that someone will come across his path and lead him to the Savior we serve.

I have been retired for a number of years and the Lord has blessed me with good health, and at the age of 81 I spend my time visiting shut-ins and doing other volunteer work. When in Mazatlan during the winter months I do what I can to help with the various outreaches of the Vineyard Church and my prayer is that the Lord will direct my life in the way that I should go and that I might be used of Him for the years He gives me.

JUDY'S STORY

I was brought up in the Roman Catholic Church, and that is where I had my understanding of God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit. This was settled without a doubt, unfortunately, forgiveness of sin wasn't.

I lived in constant condemnation, never feeling good about myself.

I came from a very dysfunctional family, we were always fighting and we were full of anger and unforgiveness. I didn't feel any love.

When I was seventeen, my mom left home and said I was the reason she was leaving. I believed her. She had a boyfriend, and I felt so bad for my father who was always drinking and just wanted his wife back.

When I graduated from high school I got married, thinking that my mom would come back to my dad if I were gone. She did move back, even though she kept that boyfriend until the day she died.

I was married for nine years and had three children. I tried to be a good mom and wife, but I was so unhappy with myself and the church just brough more condemnation by telling me I was a sinner because I practiced birth control.

I began going out to bars with my girlfriends after work. This opened the door to self destruction. I remember saying, "Well, if I'm going to hell anyway, I might as well enjoy myself!"

I got into drugs and started having affairs with other men, and soon left my husband and two of my children. I took the three year old with me.

I became a topless dancer, but took lots of drugs so I could live with myself, and to cover the conviction I felt from the Holy Spirit when I was straight.

I was a mess, and even to the point where I was about to be admitted to a mental hospital. The weekend before I was to go, I was taken to Calvary Chapel in California. It was 1973, and the beginning of the 'Jesus Movement'. There was a big revival in a tent and the Holy Spirit was present.

For the first time in my life I heard the gospel that Jesus loved and died for ME and would forgive my sins and wash me clean. Oh, how I wanted that!

I went to church every night that week, and by that weekend, I went forward and gave my life to Jesus. I felt a big black cloud lift and I was truly set free.

A month later I was baptized in the ocean and shortly afterwards, received the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

I knew God had forgiven me for leaving my family, but I did suffer the consequences of those sins, and my eyes were opened to the suffering I had caused others.

After the Lord came into my heart, I began work as a nurses aid in the hospital, and experienced so many answers to prayer. I was totally on fire for the Lord.

In 1979 I married again and had two more children. I believed this time life would be different, and in many ways it was. There are still valleys in my life as there are in everyones', but with God as my guide, He walks through them with me, and then He brings me back up to the hilltops, and I can say, "It is well with my soul." Thank You Jesus!

ADEY'S STORY

I grew up in Skokie which, at that time, was a largely Jewish community. I was a kosher keeping, Hebrew school attending, throw your sins in the river every Yom Kipper, Jew.

I was a participating member of the sex, drugs and rock and roll generation. I didn't like myself, but had no language for it, I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, good enough. But, I could sit around my dorm room passing around a joint, singing with Bob Dylan:

I would not feel so all alone,

Everybody must get stoned.

As I grew into adulthood I could hide the insecurities that plagued me but I couldn't make them go away. So I achieved. I got into my own business at 24 and had my boy friends to assure me I was OK. I had my girlfriends to talk about my boyfriends with, and I had money to spend on clothes and accessories that promised me friendship and security.

One day in my office I looked around at my situation. I thought, "Well, I've satisfied my goals. I have girl friends, and boy friends. I have a good job." I remember thinking, "O my God, if this is it, if this is what I worked so hard and long for, if this is the meaning of life, if this job and these friends and these clothes, and this purse, if this is it, I'd rather be dead!"

It's not that I was suicidal, I wasn't. It's that I felt like a veil had been pulled from my eyes and all of a sudden I could see clearly the truth that I exchanged for lies, the vanity and meaninglessness of my life.

It was very bizarre to talk to God. Some of you take it for granted. But the only praying I ever did was in Hebrew, and it was usually saying amen to a Rabbi. Normal people didn't talk to God! But I remember getting on my knees and saying something to the effect of: "Oh God!! my life is such crap, if you are there, please show me!"

The next months of my life were crazy. I don't have time to describe all God did, but the day before I gave my life to Jesus I was crying in my bedroom. These words came from my mouth: "God for the first time, in what seems like forever, I know that you are real and you are there. But, I need to know your name. Please, please, please don't be Jesus."

As a Jew, I understood that much of anti-semitism in this world has happened with Christians as active or passive participants. My whole life I believed that the only people I could trust were Jews. I grew up in the aftermath of the holocaust with relatives who watched it happen from across the ocean.

It was like the scene in Hotel Rowanda where hotel manager, Paul Rusesabagina, gets it. He gets that the world isn't going to respond. He gets that there is going to be a major slaughtering of his people. Maybe some of you have experienced bigotry or racism, in Jesus name. It's very damaging.

But, I was so desperate. I was so completely desperate, so I said, "But if you are Jesus, and you prove it to me, I will give the rest of my life to serving you! All you need to do is answer these three questions which were basically how this Jewish girl from Skokie could know Jesus.

The next day Eddie Longoria, a young Italian man I met at a party once and spoke to for five minutes showed up at my office and invited me out for a drink. He picked me up and we placed our order. He looked at me and said, "Adey, I am a Christian and I believe God speaks to us today. He told me to tell you 3 things." Then Eddie spoke 3 sentences answering my 3 questions. Every cell of my body seemed to spin out in 52 directions. I encountered Jesus Christ!

Today Adey is the senior pastor at the Iowa City Vineyard Church, serving her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

CAROLEA’S STORY

Faith is walking to the very edge and taking one more step. Carolea

I found myself in a very dysfunctional marriage. My husband was addicted to sex, pron and extramarital affairs. We had two sons. Matthew died of a childhood illness in 1978. I finally divorced my husband in 1987, when Joe, our last surviving son turned 18 years of age.

On July 31, 1989 Joe was killed in a single car accident when he was driving home on a foggy night, fell asleep and hit a guard rail, killing him instantly. I really struggled with what I was to do with my life. I took a year off from my job to do my grief work and heal. I had faith that God and I could get through this ordeal together. I did nothing in my own strength, rather I decided to rely on Him. He knew the Master plan, I did not.

In 1997 I sensed that God was getting me ready for a change. I had no idea what that might be and trusted that when it was important fo me to know, He would fill in the blanks. I took a vacation to Arkansas in the spring of 1998. By April 1999 I drove a rental truck to Mountain View, Arkansas loaded with all my household items to begin a new chapter in my life's journey. I did not know anyone in Mountain View. People asked me if I had any 'kin folk' here and I honestly answered 'no'. I knew this was the place God chose for me because when I first drove into the town and saw the sign announcing I had arrived in Mountain View - population 2,686, I choked up and was overwhelmed with tears and a deep feeling in my heart that I was HOME.

Another confirmation was when I put an offer on a piece of property, the offer was accepted and then I placed my home in Duluth on the market, within four days I had two parties fighting over the property, and I got more than my asking price. This all happened in less than five days.

I have been very blessed by many wonderful friends in Mountain View. A small group of us started a Lutheran Church in that town, many of those were also transplants from Minnesota, Wisconsin and Iowa. This gave me a wonderful church family.

God wants what is the very best for each of us. He found me my little piece of paradise on earth. I have never regretted my decision to trust and obey. He is an awesome God!!!