by
Kraig J Rice

To God Be The Glory

TABLE OF CONTENTS
(clicking on these links will move you down the page)

A Rumanian Love Story By Richard Wurmbrand
You Will Need This Jesus By Mohammed Shirajuddin Ansari
The God Who Died For Them By Ronald Q. Tuttle
A Tract, An Evangel, A Soul In Heaven By Terry L. Terrell
More Than Enough Reason For Living By Keith McBride
Just "A Little Bite" By Jeff Friend
Carl's Garden By Unknown Author
I Wanted To Belong By Muriel Larson
The Story Of The Pawned Book By William P. Mackay
The Secret: Just Himself By Mrs. Ralph C. Norton
An Atheist Discovers the Power of Prayer by Dr. N. Jerome Stowell
Out of Prison Darkness By Starr Daily
The (Communist) Deception By Stella Shepard

INTRODUCTION

Here are some testimonies of Salvation. Each one is from a credible source. The good Lord gets the glory for His dealings with each individual.

"An Indian chief constantly spoke of the Lord Jesus and what He meant to him. "Why do you talk so much about Jesus?" asked a friend. The old chief didn't reply, but slowly, deliberately, gathered some sticks and bits of grass. He made a circle of them and in the circle he placed a caterpillar. Still silent, he struck a match and lit the sticks and grass. They watched the caterpillar. As the fire caught around the circle, the trapped caterpillar began to crawl around rapidly, seeking a way to escape.

As the fire advanced, the helpless caterpillar raised its head as high as it could. If the creature could have spoken, it would have said, "My help can only come from above."

Then the old chief stooped down. He extended his finger to the caterpillar, which crawled up his finger to safety. "That," said the chief, glowing, "was what the Lord Jesus did for me! I was lost in sin. My condition was hopeless. I was trapped. Then the Lord Jesus stooped down in love and mercy and He drew me out of the horrible pit of sin and shame. How can I help but love Him and talk of His wondrous love and care?"

This article titled:
"Help From Above" originating from The Edifier, and quoted from the
The Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, February 2003, Page 9

A RUMANIAN LOVE STORY

"Note: As two CBN University professors lift him from his wheelchair onto a table at the front of the CBN University chapel, Richard Wurmbrand allows the men to place him wherever they choose.

The pale, quiet figure— 14 years a prisoner of the Rumanian communists for being a Christian— suddenly brightens as he begins to talk of Jesus . . ."

"As I lay on my prison cot, more dead than alive, and far too weak even to give myself a sip of water, I witnessed a love story that only Jesus Christ could write.

To my right lay a pastor on the brink of death from torture. To my left lay the very communist who had tortured him for weeks; now he himself had become a victim to the same treatment from his communist 'friends.'

But the communist was in more than physical pain, and my clergy friend knew it. The young preacher asked two prisoners to help him over to the dying communist. And he sat on his torturer's cot.

That pastor began doing something I have never forgotten. Gently, as a man would with a beloved wife, he stroked the head of his torturer. He spoke strange words to his enemy: 'I love you. Jesus loves you, too. I forgive you. Jesus wants to forgive you even more than you want Him to.'

The dying communist confessed his sins and asked pardon. I was watching Jesus being born in a man! What a beautiful love scene! This could happen only because of Jesus— this caressing love between a murdered man and his murderer.

I say 'murdered' because that young pastor was carried back to his cot, and he died that afternoon. That night, the communist died also.

Wherever Jesus is, even in a gray communist prison, there is much that is beautiful. There is love."

Richard Wurmbrand and his wife of 50 years, Sabina, who also was imprisoned for her faith, continued their work of preaching Christ's love for all men— including communists- for many years. He was the author of many books including Tortured For Christ.

This article quoted from
Quoted from CBN's Ministry Notes out of their Touchpoint Magazine, February 1989.

YOU WILL NEED THIS JESUS
by MOHAMMED SHIRAJUDDIN ANSARI

"After my father died, my uncle and my mother taught me about the Koran and the Islamic practices. These I followed sincerely.

During my college years I lost all faith in religion and in God. A Christian classmate would talk to me about Jesus at times. I would listen some but did not pay much heed. One day he told me, "The day will come, Ansari, that you will need the help of this Jesus that I speak of. When all help, religion, doctors, and medicine fail, He can help."

Sometime later my mother became seriously ill. We had some means so had the best doctors. Still it seemed that Mother would die, and we were much worried. Then I remembered the words of my Christian classmate. I began to pray, "Jesus, if You are the true God, heal my mother." The next morning I overslept and was awakened by my mother who had been so sick the day before. She was walking and much improved.

Three months later I became very ill with much pain. I didn't tell anyone but prayed, "Jesus, if You were the One who healed Mother, then prove it by healing me now." In 15 minutes my pain left. This convinced me that Jesus is real.

I desired to find some Christians to talk to, and across town I found a church. Someone invited me in. I heard the message and went forward for prayer; I knew the Lord had touched me. Riding home on my bicycle, I felt I was riding on air.

I began to visit a missionary, Esther Olson, and she gave me a Gospel of John and answered some of my questions. I read other Christian books also. When my family learned of this, they made strong objections; some of them said I must be going crazy and should have a mental check-up.

Learning of water baptism, I desired to be baptized. I was so happy and had such inward peace that no one could discourage or turn me from this way. Also I learned of the Holy Spirit baptism, and God filled me.

I felt the need to learn more of the Bible and God's ways, and I was told of Southern Asia Bible College. I came here in 1976, and my life has been greatly helped and my soul much blessed by the spiritual atmosphere of this college.

This article quoted from
THE PENTECOSTAL EVANGEL, January 18, 1981, page 17

THE GOD WHO DIED FOR THEM
by RONALD Q. TUTTLE

"Once P.C. Samuel, a 12-year-old Hindu boy, was walking with his mother through a village in North India. They were returning home from the Hindu temple where they had offered sacrifices of rice and flowers to the gods and goddesses and performed ceremonial baths in the Holy Pond. These had been daily rituals for as long as the boy could remember.

As they walked past an Assemblies of God church, the boy heard the sound of singing. "Ma," he asked, "who are those people?"

"They're just people singing about their God," she replied.

"But, Ma, what are they saying?"

She listened thoughtfully and answered, "Well, they are saying their God died for them."

This thought deeply impressed the boy. "None of our gods ever died for us," he said. "Their God must love them very much."

The idea of a God dying for people caused him to make more trips past the Assembly of God. He would walk very slowly and look in the gate.

One morning a missionary, Val Frandsen (now with the Lord), saw him by the gate. She called to him and brought him into the church where he heard about Jesus Christ, the God who died for him. He gave his life to Christ, was soon baptized in water, and later was filled with the Holy Spirit.

Sister Frandsen helped him through school and Bible college. After graduation from Southern Asia Bible College, Brother Samuel returned to North India. Two weeks later he went to Bettiah, Bihar, where he was married. His bride had been selected for him by the missionary ladies at the Assemblies of God girls' school in Bettiah. "When I heard her pray," he says, "I knew she was the girl for me."

The couple left immediately for Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, where they began their pastoral ministry. In the intervening years Brother Samuel completed a B.A. and two M.A. degrees, one in English literature and one in economics. He began teaching at the North India Bible Institute and in 1963 was appointed acting principal.

In 1968 Brother Samuel was installed as principal of the Bible institute and the same year was elected superintendent of the Assemblies of God of North India.

He held both these positions for many years and was appointed chairman of the Assemblies of God Committee. In February 1980 he received an honorary doctor of divinity from Southern Asia Bible College.

May the song of "The God Who Died for Them," which Brother Samuel heard in 1948, be continually sung until all India has heard."

This article quoted from
THE PENTECOSTAL EVANGEL, January 18, 1981, page 13

A Tract, An Evangel, A Soul In Heaven
By TERRY L. TERRELL

"More than 100 friends and family members attended Mary's funeral in our church. Nearly all were from Roman Catholic backgrounds.

So was Mary— and that is where this story begins.

A young girl in South Dakota, Mary had attended the Aberdeen Assembly of God with her parents. The man she married persuaded her to attend his church and raise their children in his faith. He was Roman Catholic.

When I first met Mary, she was in her 60s and very ill. Bedridden and dying of cancer, she had few lucid moments. However, she had kept her commitment to her husband and family and had raised her family in the church she accepted at marriage.

About 6 months before I met Mary, our church distributed literature packets in her neighborhood. It was a low-key approach to evangelism, for many people in our church had never done this.

We ordered several hundred Pentecostal Evangels. To these we added an invitation to visit our church and the tract, Isn't It Time for Jesus? published by the Gospel Publishing House. These items were placed into plastic door-hanger bags and left on some 500 doors in Mary's neighborhood.

We received about one visitor for every 80-100 bags we distributed. But Mary was not one of those visitors.

The night before Mary died, her family asked if someone from our church could visit. Our youth pastor did; so did I.

Mary was unable to talk with me. But I learned from her family that she had opened that bag of literature some 6 months earlier. The name of our church stamped on the back of the tract and on the invitation took Mary back to her youth.

Realizing she was going to die, she read the Evangel. She read the invitation. But most of all she read the tract.

The family showed me Mary's tract. It was wrinkled, crumpled, and scarcely readable.

They told me Mary had read the tract over and over and over. She prayed the prayer on it, applying the words personally and weeping.

What did Mary pray? "Jesus, I need Your help. I recognize that I'm a sinner, and I'm sorry for my past. Please forgive me and help me to regain control of my life. I believe You died on the cross for my sins and rose again to help me live life at its best. I ask You to come into my life right now. Thank You, Lord, for doing this. Amen."

Because of the praying Mary had done; because of the literature we had left; because of the visit we made; because of Mary's return to her faith in Jesus Christ, the family asked if I would conduct the funeral.

After I shared Mary's faith with those attending the funeral, dozens asked for copies of the tract.

When I shared that experience with our evangelism team, they became anxious to reach every home in our area with gospel literature. Since December we have distributed more than 1,000 Evangels, tracts, and invitations.

One Evangel, one invitation, and one tract equals a soul in heaven. It may do it for you too."

This article quoted from
PENTECOSTAL EVANGEL, JUNE 16, 1991, Number 4023, page 6
Terry L. Terrell was senior pastor at Minnetonka-Hopkins Assembly of God in Minnetonka, Minnesota, at that time.

MORE THAN ENOUGH REASON FOR LIVING
By Keith McBride

"Near_the bonfire, a single musician began playing the haunting melodies of old songs on a clarinet.

As he played, the drunk partygoers quieted until the only other sound was the howling of coyotes in the distance.

Keith McBride sat alone in the darkness beyond the firelight, lonely, sick of his life and completely empty.

As the strains of music carried his mind back over the wasted years, he thought, "There has to be more of a reason for living."

At various times throughout his 65 years, Keith had looked for meaning— he had tried several churches but the ones he visited seemed as meaningless as he was. Then he had experimented in Eastern religions, the Ascended Masters and astrology.

He had also been busy with many other pursuits.

He had traveled extensively through South America and Cuba. He had fished and hunted with Ernest Hemingway. His business successes had multiplied and he had become president of a large corporation.

Keith had lacked nothing he wanted materially. But he drank heavily and he was bored.

Finally, he sold everything, bought a liquor store in San Diego (he could get his liquor wholesale), bought a bar (he liked to play pool), and bought a 1,200 acre ranch in Baja (he loved Mexico).

He spent a lot of time at his ranch, selling it off little by little, and giving frequent barbecues, where he furnished gallons of margaritas and invited tourists, friends, natives and whomever wandered in.

Until this last barbecue . . .

A short while after the clarinet notes ended, a glass of brandy in his hand, Keith felt a crushing pain in his chest.

"I guess this is it," he said, and finished his brandy.

Keith awoke in intensive care, a near invalid. Still struggling for meaning in his life, he didn't want to live unable to drink and party. "After all," he thought, "everybody has to die, don't they?"

But just as he was discharged from the hospital a few weeks later, Keith met a man who was going to a Christian healing service. Keith went along out of curiosity.

That night, despite Keith's unbelief, God healed his heart. But even more important, God touched his mind and spirit. Keith became filled with an insatiable desire— not for booze, but to learn more about the man who had healed and forgiven him: Jesus.

Keith spent a couple of years studying the Bible.

But his love for Mexico, especially the Baja area, continued.

And today, instead of serving up margaritas, Keith offers the Gospel to the area— primarily by helping the many young pastors and evangelists who live in Baja.

These men are desperately poor and yet they enthusiastically serve the Lord.

Keith helps them with their material needs. But he's most excited about the video ministry he has started among them.

With the help of the 700 Club, Keith has provided 15 pastors with televisions, VCR's and, many times, generators to operate them.

"The results are amazing," Keith says. "You can feel the breath and excitement of revival being generated as all of the pastors and evangelists from all these locations get together for seminars, to pray together, trade tapes and organize crusades jointly."

Some of the results have been miraculous:
An old Mexican was healed of diabetes while watching The 700 Club.

While watching a tape of Ben Kinchlow interviewing a witch, a witchdoctor repented and asked Jesus to be Lord of his life. He then introduced more than 40 other people to his newfound Savior.

And at an impromptu crusade at a migrant camp, more than 2,500 Indians indicated they had accepted Jesus.

Far from being meaningless, Keith, now in his 70s, leads an active and happy life. "I'm so glad Jesus came into my life," he says. "And that God has allowed me to be a part of the explosion of His Word in Baja using VCR's as a tool."

"You can just feel the air of revival down there when you go."

This article quoted from
Touch Point, the Newsletter of Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN), August 1986

Just "A Little Bite"
By Jeff Friend

"During a weekend in May, 1993, I was able to catch up on a few chores around the house. It had been a perfect day— except for that annoying mosquito bite just above my right ankle.

The welt on my leg would not stop itching. I smeared a little first-aid cream on it and tried to ignore it. The next morning, however, the welt no longer was a little raised area. It had flattened out, was very red and looked like a sore. After a few days the sore had grown in size and obviously was getting worse. I reluctantly scheduled a doctor's visit. When the doctor saw it, he asked what I had done to it.

"I didn't do anything to it," I assured him. "It's just a mosquito bite that got carried away."

"No, I don't think so," he said.

The wound continued to grow, reaching five inches long and three inches wide. We tried every remedy and therapy the doctor could think of— medication, compression wrappings, whirlpool. The doctor finally admitted that he had no idea what we were dealing with nor how to treat it. The constant pain was indescribable. Every step I took on that leg was misery.

I was referred to a surgeon. He studied my leg and said it looked as if I had been bitten by a brown recluse spider, a fairly common spider whose venom attacks tissue. I had never heard of a brown recluse spider, but at least it sounded as if the surgeon knew what he was fighting.

The next two years would involve a multitude of doctor visits, treatments and surgeries. Nothing worked, and doctors continued to be dumbfounded.

I was now as low as I had ever been. I was in extreme physical pain, and I was depressed from the lack of medical success. As if my body and mind weren't in bad enough shape, my marriage also was falling apart around me. Years of keeping people— including Nancy, my wife— at a distance had taken a toll.

God had brought me to the place where I had to face myself. I always had known that I needed to accept Him as my Savior, but I would not give in.

I had been reared in a Christian home and had been active in church activities. I was the perfect Christian, or at least that's what I wanted everyone to believe. Actually it was a perfect scam. I knew all the right Christian phrases and how to say appropriate prayers. I had spent a lifetime building elaborate walls and defenses to keep people from finding out the real me.

In June, 1995, my world was in shambles, and I knew there was only one thing to do. In 1990 Nancy and I had moved to Florida, and we had become good friends with Randy and Maria at our church. Randy had since become an associate pastor, so I made an appointment to see him.

Nancy agreed to go with me to the meeting. Randy greeted us cordially, and we went into his office and sat down facing each other. After a few moments of light conversation I looked Randy straight in the eyes.

"Randy, you're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you," I said, as the tears began. "I've been around church all my life. Everybody would tell you that I'm a Christian. But, Randy, it's all a lie. All of it. I've never accepted Jesus as my Savior."

Randy broke into a big smile and leaned forward from his chair to embrace me.

"I am so proud of you," he said. "Let's take care of it right now! Let's pray."

As Randy prayed, I felt as if years of pent-up tears came rushing out of my eyes all at once. The emotions that I had refused to show came to the surface, and I felt as if I were experiencing them for the first time.

When Randy finished praying, I said, "Lead me in the sinner's prayer. I have to say the words myself."

So I finally said the words that had taken so long to come from my mouth and heart: "God, I'm so tired of playing games and trying to run from You. I know that I am a sinner, and I believe that Jesus died on the cross to pay for my sins. Forgive me for my sins. I accept Your free gift of salvation, and I promise to follow You and serve You. Amen."

I experienced a feeling of complete peace. I no longer believed I had to stay behind my "walls." I not only was forgiven of my sins, but I also was released from my self-made prison as well. I was free indeed!

The following Sunday morning I stood before the congregation and told them that I had accepted Jesus Christ. It was the most difficult thing I have ever done.

Also, I was able to talk openly with Nancy without worrying that I would let out any of my secrets. Now there would be no more secrets. We could establish open and honest communication, and we could look forward to the future together.

But I quickly learned that being forgiven of sin didn't mean that life immediately became rosy. I was still in constant pain, and the outlook for my leg wasn't any better. Getting through each day was still a physical and mental struggle. The difference was that now I had God to sustain me. Every day I had to trust God for the strength I needed.

Over the next four years I had eight more surgeries. But as a new Christian I learned the invaluable lesson of depending completely on Jesus for the rest of my life instead of on my own abilities. I gave up control of my life and let God take over.

By the end of December, 1999, my leg was healed. Although my skin finished growing over my healed wound, the growing in my spiritual life is ongoing. God continues to amaze me, and I realize that He can use any means in order to draw us to Him- even something as seemingly simple as a little spider bite."

This article quoted from the
Decision Magazine Newsletter, September 2001, pages 12-13

Carl's Garden
By Unknown Author

"Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much, but he would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over fifty years, no one could really say they knew him very well.

Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in World War II. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W. II, he might not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood, with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.

When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers to care for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up. He was well into his eighty-seventh year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you fellas like a drink from the hose?"

The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. The minister had witnessed the attack from his window, but was unable to get there fast enough to stop it.

"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking, as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle and started to water again.

Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," was his calm reply. Satisfied that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.

A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before, their threats went unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to toe in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over each other laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth-giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.

The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into the nearby evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him.

He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don't worry, old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly, still offering his tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, he pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the young man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet."

"I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?" The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate."

He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "Anyway, this bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.

Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.

He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular, the minister noticed a tall young man he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."

The following spring another flyer went up. It read "Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners, until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.

The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."

The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a respected member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.

One day he approached the minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday."

"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?" "Carl."

This article quoted from the
The Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, February 2003, Page 7
(Received via e-mail, author unknown)

I Wanted To Belong
By Muriel Larson

"I find it almost impossible to believe some of the things that have happened in my life. But they did happen. And to me they are indisputable proof that there is a God and that He does work in the heart and lives of people today.

Some of my one-time friends may seem to be right out of a TV soap opera, but their counterparts live throughout America- perhaps next door to you. How close I came to making a total wreck of my life I'll probably never know.

I grew up in a small resort town in New Jersey and attended the community church regularly. A naive country girl, I didn't smoke, drink, or swear. When I went to work for the U.S. Government, I entered a new world. At the USO I met Al Larson. Within six months we were married and on our way to a Naval base in California. I was eighteen.

Although I had been raised to be "religious," my husband had no such training. He was what I considered a good man, but he would scoff and say, "Oh, the Bible is nothing but fairy tales. It's obvious you've only learned one viewpoint."

I had left my parents, home, and church 3,500 miles behind. Al and I met couples from all over the U.S. at the naval base. They seemed smart, worldly, sophisticated; and I learned quickly.

For a while I continued attending church. But after our daughter came along, I fell away. My Bible accumulated dust, until I put it in a bottom drawer. When Al left the Navy, we returned to the East Coast. After a while we started making jewelry and selling it.

One day an acquaintance said, "Listen, bring your jewelry to my card club tomorrow night and show it to the girls. Can you play poker?"

"Sure," I laughed, "my brother-in-law taught me how. I'll come and win the pots!"

"You're kidding," she replied. But I wasn't. And even though I lived up to my promise of winning that night, the women liked me and invited me to come to their next meeting. Soon I was adopted into what I thought was an exclusive and sophisticated club. I was flattered.

I've come along way from that little country bumpkin I used to be, I thought. We drank, gambled until two in the morning, told off-colored stories, and visited bars together on our way home from club meetings.

As time went on I became better acquainted with my new friends.

"I just had my third abortion last week," Diana announced casually one evening. "This time it was because my husband snuck into see me when his girlfriend was out of town. The other two times it was because of my boyfriend." My blood ran cold.

"Why don't you get a divorce and marry your boyfriend?" I asked.

"Oh, my boyfriend wouldn't marry a divorced women," she replied. "Our religion doesn't believe in divorce. And anyway, he's married, too."

Another woman, somewhat older than the rest of us, within a year's time progressed from drinking three or four highballs to drinking her whiskey straight from the bottle.

Then I learned that four of the girls were using the club as a blind to meet their boyfriends. They were all married, but fooling around didn't seem to bother them at all- that is, until two of them got pregnant by their lovers.

My husband decided to go to business school. In order to supplement our income I went to work in an office. Another young woman started work a month later, and she became my coffee-break partner. Her name was Lillian. "I plan to be a missionary," she said.

I noticed a difference when I started going to the lounge with her. Before, there had been all kinds of dirty jokes. Now when we came in, that sort of talk stopped abruptly. I could see that my co-workers had a profound respect for Lillian. From her conversation and manner of living, we all knew that she was truly dedicated to God and His will for her life.

With my admiration for Lillian came a growing disgust for myself and my friends who casually did away with babies, became drunk before my eyes, or became pregnant by lovers. Now each time I went to the card club I couldn't help but contrast our lives with Lillian's. What useless, purposeless, self-centered lives ours were!

I began to remember when I had gone faithfully to church, when I had read my Bible and prayed. I took a good look at myself- and didn't like what I saw. I suddenly realized that I wanted to be like Lillian. "I love the Lord," she told me one day. "He gives me wonderful peace and joy." It was evident!

One day someone left a leaflet on my desk that told about Christ and His love for me and how He had died on the Cross for my sins. My memory took me back to that little country church where we used to quote, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life"
(John 3: 16).

Tears of repentance slid down my cheeks, and I cried in my heart, "Oh, Lord, restore my childhood faith in Christ and the Bible!"

At coffee break, I told Lillian something of what had happened in my heart that morning. "Please pray for me," I said. "And pray for my husband, that he will come to believe in Christ as his Savior, too."

Her eyes glowing, she promised to pray for both of us. "The Lord will show you how to tell your husband what Jesus Christ means to you now."

The next night was club night. I went, but without enthusiasm. When I got there, Helen, the hostess, was excited. "You should see the exciting pictures I have to show you," she exclaimed. I glanced at the pictures out of curiosity and was revolted by the pornography. I didn't enjoy the poker playing much that night, even though I won as usual. And I must have been a real killjoy. I didn't even laugh at the dirty jokes. I was a new person.

That was the last poker club meeting I attended.

I began praying for my husband and turning on religious radio and television programs. He began listening and looking with me. When one program offered a free Bible course, he sent for it. Through studying the Bible course, Al came to realize that Christ had died for his sins. He bowed his head one night while doing a lesson and asked Christ to be his Savior.

After that, Al's life and viewpoint changed greatly, even as mine had. As we prayed and witnessed, eventually all the members in my family came to Christ and became soulwinners too.

I praise the Lord for sending Lillian my way. Because of that faithful witness for Christ, hundreds of other lives have been changed through a remarkable chain reaction.

In God's providence. I became a writer for Him and have had 17 books and many articles published. After all, it was a tract that reached me!"

This article quoted from the
Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, May 2002, page 12
Editor's Note: "Dr. Muriel," was an E-mail counselor for Christian Women Today at that time.

The Story Of The Pawned Book
By William P. Mackay

"The Doctor's Bible:
Many years ago, when William P. Mackay left home at the age of seventeen for college, his mother gave him a Bible. On the flyleaf she wrote her name, his name, and a Bible verse.

The young Scotsman was a brilliant student in medical school and became a physician. In time, he became head of the largest hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland. His success in medicine was equalled only by the wickedness of his personal life. Open in his ridicule of God and the Bible, Mackay was elected president of a society of atheists in the city where he practiced medicine. The club members practiced a consistently vile and despicable way of life.

Into his hospital one day was carried a man who had been terribly injured, with the lower part of his body having been crushed. On his face, however, was a look of radiance and peace so pronounced that it amazed Dr. Mackay, who was accustomed to seeing people suffer.

The desperately wounded man asked the surgeon: "What is my condition, doctor? I want to know the truth. Is it life or death? I am ready and I am not afraid to die, because my trust is in the precious, shed Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ who paid the penalty for my sins at Calvary. I know I am going to be with Him if I die."

"You have, at the most, three hours to live," was the reply. The brightness on the face of the one soon to be in eternity did not dim at the news.

"Is there anything you need for us to do for you?" asked Dr. Mackay.

"Thank you," said the dying man. "In one of my pockets is a two week's pay check. If you can get to it, I wish you to send it at once to my landlady, and ask her to send me the book."

"What book?" questioned Mackay.

"Please, just ask her for the book. She will know."

The doctor made arrangements for the man's simple request to be carried out, and then started on his rounds through the hospital. But some of the dying man's words kept ringing in his ears. "I am ready... I am going to be with Jesus..."

Dr. Mackay had never been known to show a personal interest in a patient before, but for the first time he wanted to know how this one was getting along. He returned a few hours later to the ward where the injured man had been taken. He asked the nurse in charge about his condition. "He died just a few minutes ago," she informed him.

"Did his book get here in time?" asked the doctor. "Yes, shortly before he died." "What was it, his bank book?"

"No it wasn't his bank book," said the nurse. "It is still there, though, if you want to look at it. He died with it under his pillow."

Dr. Mackay went to the bedside, reached under the pillow and withdrew a Bible. As he did so the Bible opened at the flyleaf. There, in his mother's handwriting, was her name, his own name, and a Scripture verse! It was the Bible he had received from her years ago as he was leaving for college. He had pawned it in a drunken daze to obtain money for more whiskey.

Overwhelmed by precious memories, he hurried to his private office, fell on his knees, and prayed to his mother's God to have mercy on his soul. In repentance he accepted Christ as his Savior. "Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away: behold, all things are become new"
(2 Corinthians 5:17).

God had His eye on that Bible, and directed events to bring it back to the person to whom it was first given, in order to lead him to Christ. The doctor's first thought after thanking God for saving his soul was to write to his Christian mother and tell her the soul-stirring news! Needless to say, she fell on her knees, praising God for the salvation of her wayward son.

Mackay, the physician, became a minister of God; and as a minister he turned many to righteousness.

Someone is praying for you. Perhaps a gray-haired mother, an aged father, a loving sister or brother, an affectionate friend. But above all, God loves you; and He sent His Son all the way from Heaven to earth on your behalf. Won't you trust Him now? "For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life"
(John 3:16). God says that He "now commandeth all men everywhere to repent, because He hath appointed a day, in the which He will judge the world in righteousness by that Man whom He hath ordained"
(Acts 17:30, 31). "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him"
(John 3:36)."

This article quoted from the
Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, May 2002, page 8
(This article is available in tract form from the Gospel Tract Society)

The Secret: Just Himself
by Mrs. Ralph C. Norton

"How long a time I lived the Christian life without discovering the secret of pure joy and constant victory! But at last, one day, the beautiful secret was imparted to me, and life became a changed thing. And because of the wondrous change it brought to my own life, the desire grew within my heart to impart the glorious secret to someone else.

And now for the "Secret." It is very simple, for the whole blessed experience that came to me was bound up in two words, "Just Himself." Not His blessing, not His gift of power, nothing but "Just Himself."

And now I want to tell you how I came to know the blessedness of "Just Himself." But first, I must go back a little. There came the time that, as a child, I knelt in a special service and gave my heart to God.

Then as a young girl I made a fuller surrender to Him. But then I slipped into sin and mistakenly said to my own heart, "What you thought you had was only a myth," and my heart grew hard.

Then followed several years of spiritual barrenness and hardness of heart, during which time I found the world to be alluring, and gave myself to worldly ambitions and pleasures. But just as I reached my twentieth birthday my Lord spoke to me unmistakably, and very humbly I crept back to His feet. There were many friendships to be broken, many things of the world to be discarded, but one by one I was freed from the glittering entanglements of sin and ambition that had held me so long. So for many years I lived the Christian life, but the "Secret" was not mine yet.

Then came a day, a wonderful day - it is engraved on my heart. A day when, as I looked out across the sea from the book I was reading, I said to my soul, "But this saint of whom you are reading knew his Lord in a personal, real way; that is not your experience." And my heart made answer, "I wish I might know Him that way - and yet..." For I was being honest with myself that day. When the thought of Jesus and the possibility of a closer walk with Him confronted me, I knew that some things in my life wouldn't be pleasing to Him. Indeed, I couldn't imagine Him entering into them with me, and the words flashed across my mind, "Can two walk together, except they be agreed?"

And then the struggle began because there is no use denying that there were some things that I loved better than the possibility of such a walk with Him. Oh, the shame of it. But I was being honest with myself. And such trivial, foolish things they were, when compared with the incomparable privilege that He was offering me. And at last, feeling battered by the conflict but very victorious, I came to my Lord and held out the little trophy to Him. And said from my heart, "Dear Lord, I want to walk with You. I want to abide in Your presence, to be altogether with You, and to love You wholly. And because I know You could not walk with me while I pursued this pleasure, I give it all to You today." And then a wonderful thing occurred. He suddenly became very real, very precious. I will always love that little town in Northern Wales with a peculiar love, for it was there I learned to walk with my Lord.

I shall never forget the joy of my heart, walking the little streets, as I talked with my Lord. Sometimes I felt I could put out my hand and touch His garments, He seemed so near.

There had been years in my Christian life, I say to my shame, when prayer and the reading of the Word had been just a part of the day's routine. They were not essential to my happiness, only to my sense of Christian duty.

But when I let Jesus come to me to abide there came such a passion for His Word and for prayer, a passion which increases with the passing days. The very precious time in the morning when He speaks to me through His Word, and again in prayer while I hold myself in His presence. I can now see the faults of my early method of praying. A hurried presentation of numerous requests, a battling with wandering thoughts, an afterthought of praise, then a rising from the knees with a sense of duty performed.

But, oh! the glory, the preciousness of prayer when it is only the continuation of your walk with Him. The wonder of being able to bring, one by one, your problems, your temptations, and lay them out before your Lord. To wait in silence, with your heart open before Him, and your eyes upon His face, until He shall speak. And how wonderfully He speaks, sometimes through a word of Scripture that fastens itself upon your heart; sometimes by a word of counsel that comes almost as though audibly spoken. And, best of all, just the sense of being in His presence, with nothing to distract.

And now I think you are asking, "How about your personal victory over sin in your life?" I found that, too, for it is the part of the "Secret." It too, is "Just Himself." If you are abandoned, fully yielded to Jesus, if He has become dearer to you than all else so that He, and He alone, fills heaven and earth for you, then you will find that you love Him better than sin.

I faced early the fact that Jesus could not walk with me if there were sin in my life. And how well I remember those early months, as I would think of some pleasure I had given up for Him, then as I thought of exchanging my walk with Him for that pleasure I would find myself shuddering at the thought. So it came to be with sin.

When tempted to impatience or similar sins, my first thought is, "But it will grieve Jesus," and then, knowing my own utter helplessness, I cast myself upon His mercy and strength, imploring His aid, and never has He failed me.

To love Him better than anything that would deny you His fellowship and constant presence, to love Him better than any sin, so that you feel that you would rather die than grieve Him ever so little, to yield every waking moment to Him, distrusting yourself absolutely, counting Him, and finding in Him, your all, that is the life to which He has called us.

That is the great "Secret" that will transform all life for every Christian, that will allow you to find the beauty, the preciousness, and the victory-giving power there is in "Just Himself."
This article quoted from the
Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, December 2001, page 7

An Atheist Discovers the Power of Prayer
by Dr. N. Jerome Stowell

"I was a cynical atheist who believed that God was only a projection of man's imagination. I was not able to believe in a living, divine being, who loves everybody and has power over us.

One day I was working in the laboratory of a clinic. It was my task to measure the wavelength and force of the radiation of the human brain. I agreed to undertake a delicate experiment with my co-workers. We wanted to examine what occurs in the human brain while passing from life to death. For this purpose, we had chosen a woman who suffered from a brain cancer. In soul and spirit she was perfectly normal and generally known for her loving, cheerful, attitude. Physically, however, she was in very poor condition. We knew that she was about to die, and she also knew. We had been informed that she was a woman who had lived believing in Jesus Christ as her personal Redeemer. Shortly before her death we placed a highly sensitive recorder in her room. This instrument would reveal what would happen in her brain during the last moments of her life. Above the bed we additionally placed a tiny microphone to enable us to hear what she said, should she at all speak before dying.

An Overwhelming Experience

Meanwhile, we went to the adjoining room. We chose five scientists of whom I was probably the most moderate and hardhearted. We stood waiting before our instruments in suspense. The indicator was on "0", and was able to move up to 500 degrees to the right in positive registration and up to 500 degrees to the left in negative registration. Not long before, we had measured, with the same equipment, the output of a broadcast station that was broadcasting a program 50 kilowatts strong, worldwide. During this test we noticed a positive reading of nine degrees.

The last moments of the dying woman appeared to have arrived. Suddenly we heard her praying and praising God. She implored God to forgive all those who had wronged her during her life. She thanked Him for His strength with which He had supported her all her life and for the assurance that she belonged to Jesus. She proclaimed to Him that in spite of all her suffering, her love for Him had not diminished. As she recounted the pardon of her sins through the Blood of Jesus Christ, her words revealed an indescribable bliss. Finally she exulted in the joy and knowledge that she would soon see her Savior.

We stood around our instruments, deeply moved by her words. We glanced at each other and were not ashamed of our tears. I was so gripped by what I had heard that I was compelled to weep, as I had not done since childhood. Suddenly, while the woman continued to pray we heard a clicking sound from our instruments. Looking at them, we found the indicator to be at 500 degrees positive and continually beating against the limitation. The radiation energy must have exceeded the scale of our instruments. Only the small limitation pin hindered the indicator from climbing higher.

Our thoughts raced. We had now, with the help of a technical survey, made a tremendous discovery: the brain of a dying woman who was in contact with God developed a power which was 55 times stronger than the output of the worldwide broadcast message. (Here one is reminded of the statement Dr. Alexis Carrel, the Nobel Prize winner, made, that "Prayer is the strongest form of generative energy")

To continue our investigation we began a new experiment. This time we chose a man who was near insanity. After we had set our instruments again, we asked the nurse to irritate the patient in some way. The man reacted with insults and swearing, and then used the name of God in a blasphemous way. Again our instruments began to click. Our eyes were fixed to the scale in suspense. How shocked we were to ascertain that the indicator was on 500 degrees negative and had been forced against the limitation pin! We had reached the goal of our discovery.

Through instrumental measurements we had established what occurs in the human brain while transgressing one of the Ten Commandments. We had succeeded in proving scientifically, without doubt, the positive power of God and the negative power of the evil one. Very soon it became clear to us that a person living according to the divine laws and in contact with God radiates the power of God. However, by ignoring God's command, "Thou shalt not..." one finds as a result a negative radiation, which is satanic force.

At that moment my atheistic philosophy of life began to crumble. The thought overwhelmed me, "Could there be a God after all, who is able to receive the message sent to Him in prayer?" In that case, even I was standing before the omniscient God. The foolishness of my unbelief continued to become more clear to me. Since I wanted to be honest with myself, I could not close out the penetrating truth. Thus I became a happy disciple of Jesus and learned to believe in Jesus Christ as my personal Savior."
Quoted from the Gospel Tract Harvester Newsletter, July 2003, page 6.

The following two true salvation testimonies come from Guideposts: Treasury of Faith. I now quote these pages:



(clicking on these links will move you off of this page)

How A Red Chinese student found Christ
The Testimony of Kraig J. Rice
There are 3 salvation testimonies in these 2 Pentecostal Evangel Magazines including:
    I Became A Creationist Before I Became A Christian; Native American Finds Jesus;
    Testimony Of A Former Homosexual

Testimonies of Salvation from the Pentecostal Evangel Magazine(s):

The Last Hour of Faith article and "A Future Assured" Article

Setting the Captives Free article

Free to Live (Gospel Booklet)

  • Love Your Enemies article (another testimony of salvation)

  • Do you still have your first love?

  • The Unquenchable Bible

  • The Most Interesting Story I Ever Heard

  • Lonely Cabin Tract (a great salvation testimony)

  • J. G. Hall placed a brief segment "about salvation" in his book

    www.breadonthewaters.com


    Click here to go to the main testimony index page


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    As of February 9, 2007