Dum dum dum dum...

Thursday, September 16, 2004

true story of Michael D. Evans, one of the best-selling Christian authors today. I guarantee you will be blessed by his testimony. Very interesting.
The Life testimony of Michael D. Evans

" My mother’s grandfather was burned to death in his synagogue in Minsk Russia. The Russian Orthodox Church members boarded it up and burned the whole congregation alive and wrote “Christ-killers” on the walls as they burned it to death. Her aunts and uncles were burned to death in Auschwitz and called “Christ-killers” during that period of time. My mother survived and moved to America, but as a child, I pushed her grocery cart to the grocery store. Catholics and others would drive by in their cars and throw rocks at me and my mother, calling her a “kike” a “Jew witch,” a “Christ-killer.”

This was in the 1950s in Massachusetts. I was beat up for being a Jew. I was told as a little child, “You murdered Christ.” I heard that over and over, by Christians who were anti-Semites.
My father would go get drunk every Friday night at the Twilight Café, and he’d come home and beat up my mother and accuse her of being a whore. She’d wear sunglasses a lot because she’d have black eyes. And then he’d go to church Sunday and sing “Amazing Grace.” And haul us to church. And beat us with extension chords if we didn’t have devotions. Now six of my brothers and sisters will not enter a church because of this. My mother hardened her heart to the Gospel of Jesus Christ because of this.
One night, my father had strangled me and left me for dead in my dried vomit. I was eleven years old. Later that week, I woke up and heard my mother crying. I stood at the top of the stairs, and I desperately wanted to help her and didn’t know what to do. I was afraid, I was a skinny little kid, and I was scared he would kill me for sure because he almost did. I heard him say, “You are a whore, and that bastard upstairs is the reason I’m beating you.” I realized that my poor mother was suffering because of me. That he believed I was illegitimate, that my mother had an affair and that I was illegitimate--so not only was I despised and rejected by my father, but my mother was suffering horribly because of me. I ran into my room crying. I did not believe in Jesus Christ. As a matter of fact, I despised his name.
I was in a terrible state because number one, I had a speech impediment, I had a stomach ulcer, I had hundreds of fears because of the abuse. I had been beat hysterically until I wet my pants and thrown in a canning cellar for eight, 10 hours at a time as a little kid. He had abused me unbelievably. And that week I had gone to school and they said, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And I said, “20.” Now, everybody laughed, but I said 20 because I though he’d kill me before I was 20.
But that night when I ran in my room crying, I prayed my first prayer. And I’ll never forget, I put my hands over my eyes and I cried and I said, “God, why was I born?” And when I prayed that prayer, all of a sudden with my hands over my face, 11 years old, the room lit up like snow. I was afraid to look because I thought it was my father turning the light on, fixing to beat me, and I was getting ready to dive under the bed--but I peeked through my fingers, and as I did I saw two nail-scarred hands stretched out toward me, and it frightened me half to death because I did not believe in Jesus Christ. Then I looked up, and for the first time, I saw a man’s eyes smiling. The eyes were not blue or brown, every color in the rainbow was in the eyes. Jesus was standing before me smiling. I could see rivers and angels through the eyes. He looked at me, and then said three things that transformed my life. The first is a word I had never heard. He said, “Son.” The first person to call me “son” was Jesus. Second, he said, “I love you.” And the third thing he said was, “I have a great plan for your life.” And he left.
That night, without knowing what it was to be born again, I was gloriously born again. Without even praying the traditional sinner prayer, I knew I was gloriously saved and I believed in Jesus. I was delivered of all my fears. The stomach ulcer was gone in the morning, and the speech impediment was gone. I didn’t tell a human being on the planet this story until I was 32 years of age. I got married at 22 and didn’t even tell my wife because it was too holy, too precious, and I didn’t tell her about the abuse because that was too painful. So I kept all of this in me until I was 32, and then realized that I needed to tell it. I ultimately ended up leading my father to Christ.
I went to him and I got on my knees and I said, “I want you to put your hands on my head and pray for me.” And he said, “I can’t pray for you.” And I knew he couldn’t, but I humbled myself and out of my humbling myself, he started crying and he said, “I’ll go to hell. I can never be a Christian for what I did to you.” And I said, “Christ has forgiven you of your sins and he’s forgiven me of mine.” And he wept, and I led him to the Lord. "


nothing much more to sae...

by Daryl at 10:48 PM |