brakelite said:
It seems that the proponents of OSAS would claim that I was not truly a Christian before returning to a life of ungodliness and apostasy. The situation I speak of is not one I remember with pride, but with embarrassment and shame...however, from one perspective of hindsight I can claim that in accordance with Romans 8:28 things turned out better in the long run, both for me and my family. Here is my testimony of my first new birth...if after reading this you still say that my conversion was not real, then this conversation is of no value to anybody when our personal testimonies are not believed.
Nearly forty years ago at age 24, after too many years spent in quiet but determined refusal to acknowledge or consider God, His ways or His people, and imbibing in practices and substances and a lifestyle which pleased me well, but impinged greatly on other’s rights and freedoms, I was asked a question that challenged me to the core.
“Do you think the life you are leading is pleasing to God?”
Today, after all these years, I like to think that my immediate response was a humble expression tending toward the negative, however, in light of what transpired later in the evening, I think that possibly my response initially may have been more of a non-committal grunt. To be honest, I can’t even remember how I responded at first, if at all. I was at that time in no mood to consider religion, I was quite content with my life, or so I thought thank-you very much. I was happily single and had a well paying job; for my home a little cottage in the country side adjacent to some of the best surf beaches in New Zealand ; I was debt free and little or no responsibilities and parked outside was a vehicle of no mean repute to get me anywhere I wanted to go. Life was good. For what purpose did I need God?
Several hours later however the question still rang in my ears. Was God pleased with the way I was living? Well, was He? The question kept hammering at my brain until I began asking it myself. I think it was at that moment that God knew that He had me. Because until that time, I didn’t need to answer the question if I didn’t want to. But the moment I began asking it of myself, it demanded a reply. And because of the importance of the question, it demanded an intelligent and honest reply. And the answer was simply no. Not by any stretch of the imagination, nor by any indulgence in mental or spiritual gymnastics, could I rightly and honestly justify my behavior or lifestyle before a holy and righteous God. And it was as I was laying on my back contemplating these things that very night when I admitted as much. I took a long and honest look at myself and didn’t like what I saw. So I asked God for His forgiveness, and to make my life something that He could attach His name to without being ashamed. You see, until that night if anyone had asked me if I was a Christian, I would have replied in the affirmative. I believed in God. Sure, I had done a few things wrong, but I hadn’t killed anyone. At least not yet. I wasn’t that bad. I was judging myself however by human standards. For a while I thought I could ignore the question; there had been in the past the odd moment that such religious conversations had come up on the beach, in the pub, at work, but I dutifully ignored them and by and by they would slip away into forgetfulness until the next time. This time however it didn’t go away. There was no-one else present to talk to to distract me. The surf was non-existent. As far as human companionship was concerned, I was alone, with only that question rattling around inside of me for company.
I had grown up in a church which taught auricular confession to a priest. There was no priest there that night. Just me and God. As far as I can remember, I didn’t confess any specific sin. Rather, I confessed my entire lifestyle. As I surveyed my past years, I could think of nothing good to commend it. No mitigating circumstances to lessen the guilt of a life devoid of godliness, a life empty of any spiritual worth. I have come to realize since, and the scriptures teach the same, that a life without God is a life of death. It is a life without hope, a life without substance.
Why did God choose to come to me that day, and issue me with that challenge? I don’t know, but perhaps He knew something I didn’t. That deep down I knew, if I was willing to be honest, that I wanted something better. Something other than the superficial. Something more than window dressing and good-times. I suppose my prayer that night, as far as prayers go, was fairly simple. Nothing ornate, or even overly religious. I wasn’t kneeling, I wasn’t in church, I didn’t own nor had ever read a Bible; just a simple “Please make my life one that you would approve of.”
I didn’t know what to expect as a result of that prayer. I wasn’t even giving that any consideration. My focus was being honest with God, and giving Him the opportunity to do whatever He needed to do. How He did it, and when, was up to Him. What did happen though would have been the last thing I expected if I had thought about it. The moment that prayer was uttered God personally stepped into my room, and into my life. My confession and admission of guilt was all the reason and excuse He needed to flood my room with His love, and to tell me I was forgiven. Not with words, because He didn’t need to speak. I knew. His presence was powerful, palpable, and very, very real. Have you ever been bear-hugged by love itself? I wept with joy for several hours until I fell asleep, and awoke in the morning a different person.
My entire view of life radically changed. From that first morning I began to hate the things I once loved, and loved the things I once hated. I was born again.
Brakelite, that took a lot of guts. You have me in tears here, my dear, dear brother.
It wasn't that long ago that I also bared my soul in this forum. I revealed my own "dark night of the soul".
It was several years after my husband died...I had worked, and worked hard, sometimes from before dawn till after dark, trying to keep my brood together, and get me some skill that would make me employable. I had gotten an Associates in Legal Studies...enough to qualify me as a Certified Legal Assistant...a career I thought would be interesting, and my credits were transferable, should I ever get the urge...
I got a good job that set me free from the back breaking dawn to dusk scrabbling and gave me a bit of dignity...bought me some fancy downtown office duds (though I never did get the knack of walking in those ---- high heels....I'm sure those torture devices were not invented by women...perhaps some oriental sadist...
But I digress.
Once I got myself settled, and the kids were used to having a Mom again, and I began to have a bit of time to contemplate the roses....I met
him. He asked me out. At first, I refused. It just didn't "feel right". But then, my husband was dead....and he wasn't coming back. It couldn't be wrong to get to know a few men...maybe...just maybe...I might fall in love again.
So I accepted, and he took me out for dinner and a movie....and that was the beginning.
As you probably guessed, we had an affair. And I thought I was in love. We began talking about marriage....and then, he revealed his big secret.
He was married.
He would leave her for me, he promised. After all, his kids (KIDS?!?) were just about grown...they didn't really need him any more, and...but I couldn't hear any more.
I tried to convince myself that I was innocent...after all, I hadn't known. But God wasn't having any.
Count one....I had known him for over a year, and I had never been to his home, or asked about his life away from me and my kids. I realized that I had always suspected that he had a secret....and I didn't want to find out what it was.
Count two...I had allowed myself to be seduced...worse! I had co-operated in the seduction! But I knew that sex outside of marriage was a sin!
I tried to convince myself that I had thought we were in a committed relationship, and after all, God did not require a marriage license, but again, God wasn't having any.
No matter how I tried to squirm, it was no use. I had sinned...willfully and knowingly, I had turned my back on God, choosing instead to please my flesh. The truth was that, from the time this man had come into my life, I had put God in the sock drawer and forgot about Him. We hadn't even discussed our religion. I didn't even know if my lover even believed in God, because the subject had never come up. It just hadn't seemed important at the time.
I had been lost, and I hadn't even realized it. If I had died....it doesn't even bear thinking about.
I even tried to reason how I could continue in the relationship...but...well, you know the answer. God wasn't having any.
My lover had to go.
It wasn't easy....I had been so lonely before I met him, and I really think he did love me, in his own way...but he had a wife and kids, and that was that.
Like you, I said my prayer...and like you, I felt that cosmic hug.
Like you, I know from my own bitter experience that OSAS is a lie.
