How I Came to Be a Christian

Last year, you heard how I came to be a church lady. But church ladies are not redeemed by their talent for making hot dishes or organizing bake sales. They, too, must be redeemed by grace through faith in the atoning death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Sometimes, when I want a laugh, I speculate on what my testimony would sound like as an episode of Unshackled. If you’ve ever heard that long-running dramatic radio program from Chicago’s Pacific Garden Mission, you know the dreadful circumstances from which the profiled men and women are delivered; and the wonderful things that God has done through them.

By contrast, my life has been idyllic. It won’t come as any surprise that I’ve grown up in churches. My earliest memories were of nursery Sunday School at an local Methodist church. My childhood stories were Bible stories, I was interested in knowing what the Bible said, and always preferred a regular church worship service to "children’s church." But all that grounding in the Faith led to one problem. I knew about Jesus, I knew about church ritual, I knew about doctrine, and I knew and believed the Plan of Salvation. But, by the time I got to high school, I wasn’t sure whether I was saved. Yes, even "nice" people need to be Unshackled.

The issue was that, though I knew what the Bible said, and I trusted it was true, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I really believed it, or whether I just thought I did, or whether I just wanted other people to think I did. It may sound odd to tell, but when you’ve always belonged to a group, it’s sometimes hard to tell whether you belong because of habit or whether it's your own choice. I had been confirmed, and had stood up a number of times at altar calls, but I also knew what counts with God is attitude, not action.

Well, in high school, one of my friends was asking me regularly how I knew I was saved. I had been around church long enough to know the right answers, but I wondered whether I gave them because it was expected, or because I really believed them. I thought I really believed them, but, because they were a habit, I wasn’t sure. Finally, when the church youth group was planning to do a study on other faiths, the leader said solely that, because of what we were going to be discussing, all of us needed to be sure we believed in Jesus. When he said that, it was as if a voice inside of me said, "You’re not sure!" And it frightened me, because I wasn’t. But then I heard another internal voice – a voice that was not mine – say impatiently, "Well, Sarah, if you aren’t sure, ask Him now!" Until then, though I would have trusted God with my soul without wavering, it had never occurred me to give God my uncertainty. I prayed silently something to the effect of, "Heavenly Father, I know You are true, and I do want to belong to You, irrevocably, now and always. If there’s anything wrong with my attitude or my faith, fix it, because I do want to belong to You." And He did fix it, because I haven’t been troubled with doubts about my salvation since. In fact, since then, whenever I have any doubts about my attitudes or motives, I present them to God for appropriate alteration.

I tell this story, because we had a situation at our church recently in which someone needed assurance, and, due to an aggressive brain tumor, needed it fast. He knew that Jesus died for rebellious sinners; that He rose from the dead, proving He had paid the price for their rebellion, and that He gives eternal life to all who completely trust Him. But he wasn’t sure he really believed it. I tell this story now, as a reminder to anyone who might share this dear man’s uncertainty: that God can be trusted even with that.

When I think of my story of coming to assurance, I also think of that silly old joke about the married couple trying to go to sleep one night. The man tossed and turned, so much that his wife finally asked him what was bothering him. He said, "I borrowed money from McGee next door. I'm supposed to pay him back tomorrow, and I don't have it." The wife got up, opened the window, and shouted, "Hey, McGee! My husband can't pay you the money he owes you!" She got back into bed and said,, "There. Now go to sleep and let him worry for a while." That's one more lovely thing about God: we owe him everything and He already knows we can't pay Him back. We can let him worry about that, too!

Incidentally, if you’re wondering about the man who needed assurance, his story has a happy ending – at least by eternal standards. At his funeral yesterday, one of his friends told how he had been with him in the hospital when he committed his life to Jesus. We had been praying for his assurance, and through that reassuring story, his assurance became our assurance: God does answer prayer, and it’s never too late to pray for redemption.

On Village Idiots – and Praying for Celebrities

A couple of years ago, my adult Sunday School class studied the Gospel of John. I have seldom felt more inadequate; but seldom learned more about the Bible, and about God. For instance, Chapter 10 is a complete refutation of the idea that God is a cranky old grandpa looking for reasons to punish people. Chapter 1 uses language that combines Greek philosophy and Jewish sensibilities to show that Jesus was the answer to both. And, in the upper room, Jesus tells His disciples about the Holy Spirit, saying, "And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever. Even the Spirit of truth… .: (John 14:16). William Barclay's commentary explained that the word translated "comforter" also had the idea of encourager (for, by derivation, com-fort-er means "with-strength-er"), and advocate. Advocate, he pointed out, included our idea of professional advocate: in other words, a lawyer. Barclay elaborated by showing how the Holy Spirit doesn't force people do things: He reasons them into doing them, much as a lawyer reasons with witnesses when presenting evidence.

That news startled me. Not because the information was so surprising, but because, suddenly, an event from my childhood made sense.

One day, while I was a young teenager, I was working in the kitchen. Suddenly, for no good reason, I thought of a character in a movie I had enjoyed. "You really like that character, don't you?"I could almost hear someone say. I did like the character, so I agreed. "The fellow who plays him must be pretty nice, don't you think?"the almost-voice continued. Again, I agreed. "Why don't you pray for him?" it suggested. I thought that was a wonderful idea, and agreed to the urging enthusiastically. Then I had, not exactly a doubt, but an uncertainty. "But what if he's a jerk?"

"Then don't you think he'll need it even more?" was my answer. I couldn't argue with that. And that's how the Holy Spirit reasoned me into including celebrities in my prayers: something I've been doing earnestly ever since.

I tell this story, because it was the first time it had ever occurred to me to pray for a celebrity. After all, they're celebrities! Why would they need prayer?

Over the years, the answer has only grown more obvious. They need prayer for the same reasons you, and your family, and your friends, do. They get sick, and tempted, and bewildered, and convicted, just as much as anyone else. Perhaps even more. What gets attention these days like celebrity news? And what kind of stories make the news? Scandalous, sordid, disappointing foolishness. Things that would never make it to any church's prayer chain for sounding too much like gossip! Celebrities often carry on like a band of village idiots! Why pray about that!

But even village idiots have their place in society, as Monty Python's Flying Circus so insightfully pointed out in the skit "The Idiot in Society" (Monty Python's Flying Circus: Just the Words - Episode 20: http://www.ibras.dk/montypython/episode20.htm#13.). At one point, the village idiot, upon whom the "investigative report" focuses, remarks, "There is this very real need in society for someone whom almost anyone can look down on and ridicule." Judging from the tone with which the celebrity news is repo9rted, this seems to be a role frequently filled by our poor celebrities. If we didn't feel superior to them, we wouldn't shake our heads over them, or roll our eyes, or chuckle at their misfortune. We would pity them for being, well, jerks. And, as was pointed out to me so many years ago, then don't you think they need prayer even more?

So the next time you're tempted to laugh at, or rage against, some notable's poor decisions, or indecorous behavior, or idiotic life choice – or, for that matter, the anonymous village idiots who cut you off in traffic, or have too many items in the checkout line, or … well, you fill in the blank – try praying for them, instead. God changes lives through prayers, not curses. The life He changes may turn out to be be your own!