Shame and Selflessness: A Personal Testimony

The Lord truly is forming a remnant. Some days it feels so, so, so small – because it’s not made up of satisfied churchgoers! But some days you just know the Lord has touched that one heart, and they are now too part of the small remnant.

I used to be one of those satisfied churchgoers – completely comfortable in who I thought God had made me to be and somewhat scared at the idea of face-to-face evangelism.

Then the Lord turned my parents’ lives around when they went through Holy Spirit Encounter in 2012, when I was eight.

(Sidenote: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE check this ministry out. It will change your life. If possible, register for a weekend. You will be ultimately strengthened in your walk. Then start walking in your call through the Great Commission! (which is still your call today, even before you go through a weekend) )

When their lives were changed, mine was too. We began spending time at conferences, doing deliverance sessions, and traveling America to learn.

I LOVED traveling – still do. We traversed America by car and by plane, not only for ministry and learning how to do it, but for enjoyment. So I didn’t mind this conference stuff very much.

But this deliverance session stuff – it was another story.

It wasn’t that I objected what my parents were doing, after all, I saw the results with my very own eyes in people, some of which would become close friends to my parents, others would be in our lives for a season, and others just for occasional contact.

I supported what my parents were doing, and I appreciated it for my own life when I felt fear or guilt or panic or sickness.

There was just one catch: the demons in me didn’t like what was going on and protested it with all they had.

They tried to get me off track with all number of things.

Not only that, they tried to block my ears from the environment I was in.

Oftentimes on the road, my parents would talk about various teachings by various preachers and deliverance ministers, play recordings of preachers and deliverance ministers, and read books and papers of those ministers. They would even play tapes from old preachers on our car radio. I always tuned it all out.

I always noticed something strange happening with my eyes that I could not stop: sometimes if someone tried to get truth to me, my eyes would unwillingly glaze over and it was like my ears had earmuffs on. Yes, I heard them, but I was not able to listen. I was able to repeat what the person had said back to them, but there was never any memory of what they said when I got home.

The devil was trying to block me from hearing all this.

Not only that, I was the one in the corner of the basement or attic or lower story or upper story for hours on end with a book.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like reading in the corner – I’ve been doing that since I was three.

It was that the devil built up resentment within me.

Out of all of the resentment, street ministry was the worst.

I would hunker in the backseat of the car we had then – an embarrassingly old “blue boat,” as we soon dubbed it. It wasn’t old enough to be vintage and cool, but it most definitely was not new enough to be cool. I was so embarrassed of that thing, but I was more embarrassed of having to go out into people and be Jesus freaks.

I would duck into the next aisle when my parents began to pray for someone, especially if they were drunk or tattooed or had strange piercings or hair dyeings.

And when my dad began to sing “10,000 Reasons” in Wal-Mart (!!!!), I always felt like hiding in the corner and crying.

Oh, did I mention my dream job at the time?

Just give a wild guess.

Just one.

 

 

I wanted to be a missionary.

Mh-mhm. Yep.

Missionary.

I was ashamed of the Gospel, but I wanted to be a missionary.

Shur nuf.

 

But as I began to read my Bible, my life began to turn around.

I began to realize that being a missionary wasn’t my calling. It was to 1) love the one in front of me, 2) tell people that it was their call, and 3) travel the world doing it.

I slowly began to change and become more and more radical in my faith. Forget hiding in the blue boat. I’m out of it!

I didn’t care what people thought of me after that, and knew that when the Lord called me to do something, I would do it. It was such an exciting life!

Then the devil began to whisper lies again, and I began to believe them. I was ashamed once again.

Then more breakthrough.

Then more lies.

Then more breakthrough.

Then more lies.

And I still struggle to this very day with shame when it comes to sharing the Word, but there’s still a flaming desire in me to see people not go to hell.

It’s been a journey, and I’m so glad it’s still going.

Please don’t miss your chance to share the Gospel. Do it while you can. Please! Please!

Share the Word while we still have time and before the people around you go to hell.

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