Testimonies of Salvation and Answered Prayer (Devotional Thread)

3/14/2021 | .30Carbine

[.30Carbine]

In the fall of my 29th year I was married to my second husband. He was a mechanic at a local car dealership, which was handy because I worked as a part-time rural mail carrier and my 2 vehicles often needed repairs. I also worked nights at two different jobs; one was at the neighborhood country store, and one was as a bartender at a mid-range restaurant, known for its beer selection, in the same town where my husband worked.

The restaurant policy was to give the workers a free shift drink at the end of the night. One night my husband came back into town to have a drink with me there, and then we went out to a couple of other bars. By the end of the evening we were pretty toasted, and we landed in the seediest dive around, a pool joint, at closing time.

My husband had a tendency to change personality when he drank. The drunker he got, the meaner he became. We had been married about 4 years; I had noticed his rages accelerating, but he had never hit me.

At last call I turned from the pool table where a couple of other guys were talking to me, to look for my husband bent over his beer on a bar stool. He wasn't there. His jacket was gone, too. I asked the bartender if he knew where my husband had gone.

"He went to get the car, I guess," he said. Well, I knew that could not be the case, as both of us had cars parked very nearby, being that this bar was across the street from where my job was. I started to feel a little nervous then. I got my things and headed out to the parking lot. It was somewhere between 2 and 3am.

My husband's vehicle was nowhere in sight, but as I unlocked my car, got in, and started it up, I heard the squeal of tires coming around the corner onto Main Street. It was him, and I knew I was in for an argument, probably about the two guys I had been talking to at the pool table. I headed out onto Main Street and turned left toward home. My husband pulled right up onto my bumper. We never should have been behind the wheel at all, and it was (in hindsight) a miracle that we both survived the trip home.

The fight started in the driveway. Our neighbor's house about a hundred yards away was dark and quiet. My husband followed me into the house where the screaming and finger pointing continued. I argued back, protesting my innocence. It only enraged him more. I was afraid that this time he was going to hit me. I thought for sure if he started hitting me, in the condition he was in, he would never stop.

My dad, it suddenly occurred to me, would be up, watching the Turner Black and White Movie Channel about then. I often called him before I went to work at the P.O. early in the morning. I staggered over to the phone, which in those days was hanging on the wall (this was way before cell phones).

I was barely able to make out the numbers on the dial I was so drunk. My husband continued to scream in my face. He suddenly reached out and ripped the entire phone off the wall! He threw it across the room. It jangled and burst into pieces. I was in absolute terror for my life.

My dad had raised me to know how to shoot. Both my husband and I had guns hanging on a rack in the living room, with the ammo stored separately but nearby. I went for my .30 carbine and its clip, which had 10 rounds in it. I was so drunk that I could not line up the clip with the well of the magazine to load the gun. While I was struggling with it, my husband tore it out of my hands.

I turned and ran for the front door as fast as I could. I made it off the deck and down the seven steps before I fell, landing on my hands and knees in the dew-covered grass in the front yard. I was crying and screaming. My husband followed me out and walked down the steps. I heard his work boots on every wooden plank. I heard him load the gun and chamber a round.

"Daddy! Daddy!" I screamed. "Save me! Make him stop! Daddy! Make it all go away! Daddy! Save me!" The only excuse I have for crying out for my dad was my drunkenness. I never called my dad "Daddy."

My husband did stop! He turned around and walked back into the house! I got up and stumbled to my car. I thought I would lock myself in and sleep until daylight, but the keys were in it. I never leave my keys in my car, but to my surprise there they were! I drove away, just a couple of miles, to a pull-off near a brook deep in the woods on a private, dead-end road. I rolled up the windows, locked the doors, shut the engine off, and went to sleep.

It was so cold when I woke up. I drove back to the house. My husband met me in the driveway. He had his uniform on and was going to work. The sun was shining; that seemed so incongruous.

"I will be back this weekend for my things," he said through the little crack I made in the window. When he drove away I got out of the car and went inside.

Over the rest of that week I felt something like a cancer growing in my guts. This was my second marriage, and certainly not the second of my relationships. They had all failed. I was a failure. I could not do life. I had nothing else to try after years of sex, drugs, alcohol, and myriads of other habits and distractions to try to cope with this world. I wanted to die. The feeling just kept growing as I got up each day and went about my business on autopilot – going to work at night or to the P.O. in the daytime if I was scheduled. I was scheduled that Saturday. When I got home his things were gone.

I sat on the rug in the middle of the living room as the sun was setting. I had a revolver in my hand. I was picturing how to hold it: To the side of my head, I decided. But just before I raised the gun I had a vision. I saw a vast dark space full of nothing but smoldering heat. I was the only soul there. It was the kind of darkness that presses against your eyeballs, and the kind of heat that makes the air difficult to breathe. I knew it was hell. I knew that if I pulled the trigger I would go there, that I deserved to go there.

I did not typically think about God, or heaven, or hell. I knew there was a god "up there somewhere." Anyone looking around at creation could see that. I also had been given a minimalist Roman Catholic education when I was very young, up to First Communion. My mother had later been "saved" in the "Jesus Movement" during the 70s. She spoke in tongues. I thought it was weird.

But in this moment I spoke to God out loud for the first time ever as an adult. It was also the first time as an adult that I used the name of Jesus Christ as anything other than a curse.

"God, if you're there, I really need you. I’ve made a complete mess of things. I don't know how to make life work. I've tried everything I know to do and I am at the end. If you're there, and if you can hear me, I need you. Is it true what I've heard, that Jesus Christ died for my sins on the cross so that I could go to Heaven? If it is, I need you to take over. Please forgive me for the mess I've made. Please show me how to live."

I went so far as to make a deal with God. I found out later you are not supposed to do that, it supposedly never works, but I also discovered God’s incredible mercy.

"If you bring my husband back, I’ll know that it’s you doing it, that you have heard me. I will read the Bible, and I will tell everyone what you’ve done for me."

That was it. I stood up. I felt as if I could go on. One might even call it peace. The feeling of cancer in my stomach receded. I put the gun away.

God did bring my husband back. I did read the Bible (my husband was jealous of that, too). One day a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses came to my door. "God sent you to teach me how to read the Bible!" I told them enthusiastically. During one visit they asked me what, if any, Scriptures I knew. "I know the ten commandments," I said. They knew exactly where to turn to find that passage, Exodus 20, and I was so envious of that ability! Later that afternoon before my husband came home from work I sat on the couch and read that passage over and over again.

On the first reading I thought, 'I've kept most of these. I’m a pretty good person.' By the time I had read the ten commandments through about five times I knew I was guilty of breaking every single one of them. I sobbed, literally sobbed, for over an hour. My heart was broken. If I had not already believed at that point that Jesus died for my sins, including the sin of murder when I aborted my child, I could not have endured the conviction I felt. God was holy; I was not.

One of the customers on my mail route was a pastor. He started meeting me at the mailbox and talking to me about what I was reading in the Bible. Eventually I was baptized by him. I joined his church. I quit drinking and drugs and years later cigarettes and even coffee. I learned and grew and changed by leaps and bounds! I even became a Sunday school teacher, first for children and then for women. I have been a Christian now for 26 years. Jesus has never left me nor forsaken me, though my husband, who never understood the changes I was going through, did. I call God “Papa” in my prayers, which is very close to “Daddy.” I know Bible verses now that explain why I screamed “Daddy!” on the night my salvation began:

Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts,
the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.”
~Galatians 4:6 NIV

For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received
the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.”
~Romans 8:15 NKJV

[.30Carbine]

I had started working at a local dairy farm at age 14 (dad said I was either going to get a job or work around the home property. I chose what I thought would be the easier alternative)

Only a man without experience could imagine that farm labor was easier than home chores! I'm sure you learned quickly!

(Still reading!)

[.30Carbine]

then when I heard that salvation was by grace, and not by any merit of works that I had done or could do then I immediately told God (even if it meant pulling my truck over) that I trusted Jesus Christ for my salvation and not anything that I had to offer.

Amen! The gospel!

(Still reading!)

[.30Carbine]

I started realizing I needed to thank God for what he had done for me such as in making me a "new creation in Christ Jesus," "accepted in the Beloved" " bought with a price."

Hallelujah! Yes!

(Still reading!)

[daniel1212]

In Florida, I became a Music Minister for an outdoor church that reached out to “outlaw” Bikers. The church still exists in Pompano Beach, although I have moved back to Boston. I am president of the Boston Chapter, and still have my colors.

Good to know there is outreach in the land of the frozen chosen. Do you know or recognize anyone in this video: VIDEO INTERVIEWS: BOSTON STREET EVANGELISTS

[.30Carbine]

but only God deserves credit for salvation and for anything good done thru me, while the only things I can and must take credit for are my too-often failures in the full obedience of faith.

So, so true!

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us (2 Corinthians 4:7).

2 Timothy 2:20 A large house contains not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay. Some indeed are for honorable use, but others are for common use. 21 So if anyone cleanses himself of what is unfit, he will be a vessel for honor: sanctified, useful to the Master, and prepared for every good work. 22 Flee from youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, together with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.

Thank you SO MUCH for sharing your detailed and very moving testimony of salvation and deliverance!

[left that other site]

I have seen some of those folks around, but I am mostly on the South Shore Plymouth County area now. I recognize those locations though!

Park Street Station near Boston Common has ALWAYS had an Evangelist or two, even back in the 60’s when I used to hang out there.

To my Brothers and Sisters in the Southern States, “Boston” can be anywhere south of Canada and north of New York City. LOL.

[Iscool]

Thanks for this post...

My testimony is too long and probably too shocking to post...But I do have one...

I'm the reason Jesus was Crucified...As he was carrying that Cross stumbling up the hill he was telling his Father, 'Father', I don't want to do this'...
And the Father tells him, 'there's a fella a couple thousand years up there in the future and he's a mess'...'You have to do this for him'...
Thy Will Be Done...

My dad was raised in a Christian home...Reformed, I believe...My mother says she got saved as a teenager...They didn't go to church but my mother made sure the church school bus picked me up on Sunday mornings...

My dad was on the battlefields of Europe from 1941-1946...He came home as an alcoholic...Wouldn't even allow hunting guns in the house, 'he had seen enough killing'...He was however a proud and patriotic American...He marched in all the parades where VFWs and the other organizations marched...And in spite of himself, he was a great dad...

Went to confirmaton class at about 13 at a Covenant Church and received my free bible (which I still have)...Went thru the motions of getting saved...Never got baptized...
At 14 or so attended the church youth groups...The counselor would take us roller skating, hay rides and other things and often he would just pick up a bunch of wine and we'd all ride around and get drunk...He introduced one of my best friends to the queer lifestyle...And that poor kid had one rough, tormented life as a teenager...He died at 37 from AIDS...

Left that hellhole and never went back to church for about 20 years...But God gave me a conscience and always seemed to have his hand on my collar, even if I didn't recognize it at the time...And I was right up there with Satan putting Jesus thru his paces...

When I hit the bottom is when my wife left me and I had contracted the somewhat rare cancer that had killed my 26 year old sister the year before...One night, must have been a Wednesday, I was driving around crying and drove by a church that I didn't know existed and pulled right in the parking lot...Like the truck had a mind of its own..Parked the truck, went up the few stairs and in the door for the first time in 20 years...Immediately a group of people walked up to me, put there arms around me almost like they were expecting me...They prayed over me and for me and I prayed...

That's a quick outline of my testimony...

Of course when I got close to God the devil got even closer...I would have made the prodigal son look like a saint...God drug me thru or out of the mud so many times I lost count...

My most memorable account as a Christian was at my baptism...A man who I became friends with after my divorce used to be a lead singer in a band of a bar I would frequent...He came to Jesus just before we became acquainted...He somehow moved into a beautiful house sitting on a beautiful lake...It was at this house that the pastor of my newer friend and a good share of his congregation agreed to come to this house for a baptism...One baptism...Mine...

Out in the lake with the congregation on the shore singing hymns...Couldn't have been better if there had been angels stand there singing...And maybe there were...

But at the end of this, my dad in his sixties quit drinking and ask Jesus to save him...At the time he was divorced from my mother...And at almost 70 my mother started going to church with me and asked to finally get baptized...And she did...I thought she was going to drown...I think she and the pastor did too...

Now, to the people who claim there's no such thing as a sinner's prayer, or that we can't have a personal relationship with our Lord, you do not know God...You might know who he is but you don't know him...But you can...It is far better to call on the name of the Lord long before you hit desperation...Life will be so much easier for you...

[.30Carbine]

Wow, that is about a dozen testimonies in one! Thank you so much for sharing! God bless you as you continue to know and serve him.

[SisterK]

Thank you for sharing your testimony. Sometimes we have to fall to the very bottom, as you did, as I did.

But praise God! Once we surrender to Him, knowing that He is our hope and salvation, then we can be filled with joy and peace.

It took me years to walk away from a self destructive, dark and worldly life, into a life of confidence: my place in His Kingdom is secure through the blood of Jesus Christ.

[SisterK]

Thank you both, for sharing your testimonies and the love filled invitation to others to accept Jesus as Lord.

[SisterK]

the Church is the Body of Christ, not a building, or a denomination, or a conference, or a synod. And, although I went through some really horrible stuff and did some SERIOUS sinning, Jesus never left me nor forsook me.

What an extraordinary testimony. Thank you.
Yes! We are the Body of Christ. We are family. We will have to bind together, even more in love; we may soon become persecuted people.

[.30Carbine]

Simply and beautifully written. Thank you for your testimony.

[SisterK]

Of course when I got close to God the devil got even closer...I would have made the prodigal son look like a saint...God drug me thru or out of the mud so many times I lost count...

Ditto. My family was into witch craft and devil worship. Decades long dirty, bloody and ugly fight to get me to the Solid Rock. If the Lord can scrub me clean, He can wash anyone whiter than snow.

[daniel1212]

Only a man without experience could imagine that farm labor was easier than home chores! I'm sure you learned quickly!

Actually it was not the hardness of the work that was determintive but the thought of being tied to the home base and its supervision, versus a new experience away from home. I mean I was 14, the age you do not even want to be seen with your mom. Ask me how I got 2nd degree burns by forsaking the law of my mother!

[daniel1212]

I have seen some of those folks around, but I am mostly on the South Shore Plymouth County area now. I recognize those locations though! Park Street Station near Boston Common has ALWAYS had an Evangelist or two, even back in the 60’s when I used to hang out there. To my Brothers and Sisters in the Southern States, “Boston” can be anywhere south of Canada and north of New York City. LOL.

South Shore Plymouth County area! Why that is South of New England's largest parking lot (the SE "express"way)! But fellow-soldier brother Bob in the video has outreached at the Plymouth Thanksgiving parade a number of times, by the grace of God.

[boatbums]

Thank you for opening up to us and testifying to how God reached your heart and brought you to salvation. He promises He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him and that He will be found when we search for Him with all our heart. I praise God that no matter in what circumstances or place we are in our lives He is right there ready to come in and make us His own if we sincerely ask Him to. Nobody who really means it is turned away and our lives will be forever changed.

As a 16 year old "cradle Catholic", I was yearning to know God and on my walk home from Mass one Sunday I prayed, "God, if you are real, if there is any such thing as truth, I want to know it.". Within a month or so of that prayer, I was in a Sunday school class at my Grandparents' Southern Baptist Church and the teacher handed me a Bible and showed me John 10:28-30. I read:

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one.

A light turned on in my soul and I understood for the first time that I can know I have eternal life through faith in Jesus Christ and I will never perish or be taken out of His hands. I received Jesus as my savior that day and my life was not the same. I don't claim to be a perfect Christian or that I don't have ups and downs in my walk with Christ, but He has NEVER given up on me. He was/is always faithful to forgive me and cleanse me from all unrighteousness. He keeps His promises. He knows His own and we hear His voice and follow Him because He is the Good Shepherd. His grace, mercy and love are inexhaustible and I praise Him every single day.

[444Flyer]

Thank you for that miraculous testimony! It is so amazing that the Lord, in His great mercy and love, stretched out His hands for us on the cross of Calvary as the perfect sacrifice and now stretches out His hands of love inviting us to be redeemed. Your testimony reminded me of this scripture...

[444Flyer]

[.30Carbine]

When I posted last night I was half asleep. I have been reading your testimony over a few times more this morning. There is so much to it, so many miracles - your poor sister, dying so young, and then your prayed-for deliverance from the same fate! The hand of God as Conductor of the orchestra of your life is so obvious. And to see BOTH your parents saved and baptized, too, what a gift of grace. Yet satan worms his way in there, too, even into your youth group through that pedophile who so harmed your friend. So many close calls; we can see our enemy is fighting to steal us from our Father's care constantly.

Couldn't have been better if there had been angels standing there singing...And maybe there were...

I was also baptized outdoors, in my case in a pond. I was so moved by the beauty of it all that I blubbered like a baby through the whole thing!