When We Feel Abandoned By God, What Should We do? How Do We Reconnect?

God Left Me! Why Has He Forsaken Me?

When We Feel Abandoned By God

It’s been a while I got this kinda concern. When I started reading this concerned message I realised am also a victim to this. But in this case let’s read and try to contribute positively in supporting and helping this anonymous brother.

I grew up in the church and I know the Bible well. But now, I’m positive that God left me. Like Saul. I’m empty and it seems pointless to live. I’m basically a corpse walking around. I have no joy, peace, patience or kindness. No fruit of the Spirit. How can I have the fruit of the Spirit when God left me? I got sick about a month ago and started doubting everything. I was thinking sick thoughts–blasphemous thoughts. I tried to fight with scripture but the doubt and evil thoughts continued to expand. And now I know that the beautiful spirit of the Lord is gone. God left me; He has deserted me. I’ve prayed and prayed but I’m sure God left. God has given me over to a reprobate mind. Now nothing affects me. My heart is hard. I know that the Bible is God’s Word and that Jesus is God’s Son and that He gave He gave the Holy Spirit to dwell in those who believe. I know who God is even if He gave me over to a reprobate mind. I will continue to let people know that He is true even thought God left me.

Uncle Tim gave a very positive and encouraging advise.

The purpose of God’s testing is not to undermine us, but to purify and to move our assurance away from feelings which can be transitory to a solid faith that seeks to serve God even if it seems that He is destroying us (Job 13:14). Sometimes we think we are strong Christians when we do not realize on what weak legs we stand. Then the storms come, as Scripture says they will, and our worlds are turned upside down. God’s purpose through His training of us is to substitute for our weak legs some strong legs of faith, where we seek God and seek to live out His will even when our worlds seem to be collapsing around us. We are the house built on the rock.

So my encouragement to you is to lift up the feeble legs (Hebrews 12:12-13), stand strong in God, understand His purposes in your life, and hope in Him. When the testing is done, you will come through as pure gold, a treasure fit for His presence, and a blessing to all.

Another anonymous contributor advises

So here is what I do when difficult times come. First, I pray and ask God to reveal if there is some sin that has brought about the feeling of estrangement. If there is some sin that comes to mind, I confess it.

Second, having dealt with any know sin, I remind myself of His promises to me and assure myself that God is not a liar. In fact, I go farther and reaffirm to myself His great character and desire for us. Sometimes I read some of the great passages of Scripture on God’s character. I reaffirm that He has forgiven my sin and cleansed me, even as He promised and even though I do not “feel” clean. The feelings follow faith. I talk to myself about Him.

Third, I stop and worship Him for who He is. I submit myself before Him and tell Him how great He is. I see this with Job’s response, where in his sorrow he paused and worshipped (Job 1:20).

Fourth, I talk to myself about me, my purpose in this world, my calling to represent Him well, my choice not to focus on myself but to focus on Him. I reaffirm that serving Him is my choice no matter how I feel.

Finally, I seek to engage with His word and continue to pray, accounting that He is listening even when I have no feeling of engagement. (But I must admit, usually by the end of step 2, I find that I have reconnected. There is something about worship that touches God’s heart and transforms ours.) Yet, in the times when I still feel remote, I choose to draw near to Him and trust that in His time He will draw near to me. And He always does.

Other contribution to this …

Faith is trusting when we cannot see, banking that in the morning joy will return.

I encourage you not to be cast down, but to know that such times of struggle are part of God’s good gifts to His own, demonstrating His loving training so that our faith may stand strong and robust and be able to withstand any storm that strikes the rock on which our house is built.

I know this is difficult, especially in times you are not feeling well. But I encourage you to engage with others, and seek their prayers for mutual support during this time.

What advise do you have for this concerned brother, we will love you to share your thoughts and contributions too….

Have a blessed Sunday!!!

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Loneliness Is a Powerful Enemy: True Story From Anonymous

Loneliness affects us all at some point or another. Jeff’s testimony reminds us that God can fix even the deepest loneliness.

For years, decades, before I became a born again Christian, loneliness was my best friend. As the old saying goes, “with friends like this, you don’t need enemies.” Even when I was a sophomore in college, I had to admit that I was isolated from my fellow human beings. I took a course in adolescent psychology with Dr. Elizabeth Hurlock, who, in one lecture, described “the star isolate.”

This type of personality might be someone who is popular, who excels, who has friends, and is generally gregarious; yet, he or she at a deep psychological level is isolated from other human beings. A similar problem was noted in Sylvia Plath’s book The Bell Jar. Sylvia was herself a poet who experienced a sense of isolation and intense torments of loneliness even though she was married. Eventually, she committed suicide.
And sometimes this loneliness is described as fear of intimacy or closeness with others. However, it is worth noting that loneliness is not necessarily a condition experienced by “loners” only, but can be experienced by anyone. In fact, one of the classic books in sociology, The Lonely Crowd, written by Leonard Riesman, Nathan Glazer, and Reuel Denny in the 1960’s described the remarkable loneliness found within the American social order despite a superficial gregariousness and friendliness in the population. For Glazer, Riesman, and Denny, this was associated with the “other-directed” personality, people who were trying to please others, to somehow fit in with the expectations of others, but who lacked a solid core of inner motivation and purpose. Another personality type addressed in The Lonely Crowd is called anomie. The person with anomie actually has a deficient self concept, neither able to achieve purposeful behavior from within, nor to pick up sufficient cues from others to become “other-directed.” Rather, they lack not only character, but lack identity. It is defined by the online Merriam-Webster Dictionary as “social instability resulting from a breakdown of standards and values; also: personal unrest, alienation, and uncertainty that comes from a lack of purpose or ideals.”

If one grows up as an only child as I did, that in itself is not the basis of one’s loneliness.

All only children do not find themselves as experiencing extreme loneliness. As we see above, loneliness is not mainly defined by behavior, but by inward conditions based on one’s values, identity, purposes, norms of behavior, ideas about who other people are, what they expect of one, the extent of competitiveness in one’s personality, the sensitivity of as well as the capacity for empathy of the individual, and the degree to which one’s personality is self-absorbed.

Further, as I learned from the pain of bitter experience, the books on sociology and psychology consistently omit one’s relationship with Almighty God when depicting the sources of one’s loneliness and alienation. Thus, the spiritual dimension of experience, which is the linchpin of all other variables is neglected.
When I had the privilege of teaching Expository Writing at Pennsylvania State University, the course was developed around the concept of alienation. All our studies in reading essays, poetry, and short stories as well as the writing assignments were built around alienation of self from self, alienation of man from woman, alienation of humankind from nature, and alienation of self from God. Despite my lack of faith in Christ, I had been influenced to some small degree by the writings of Soren Kirkegaard, and saw that my own experienced belief in God was accompanied by an even stronger alienation from God, and I was interested in examining that sense of alienation. In fact, looking back on my mindset at that time, it is clear to me that my greater interest in my alienation than in seeking God was itself indicative of my fallen and sinful condition. In today’s theology, we could say that that other alienations between self and self, between self and others, and between self and nature were horizontal alienations. And alienation from God is a vertical alienation.

I had friends. I went to parties. I was elected to various leadership positions as an undergraduate student. I was hired into various prestigious teaching positions as a graduate student. I went out on dates. Some girls liked me, but one described me as “conceited,” another said that I always had to be right and was too argumentative, and there were others whom I wished to impress but who were never impressed by me. I helped one young woman to find a doctor so she could get an abortion in Washington DC. My mother had not described me as good looking, but would always say that I was “interesting looking.” I took that to be a euphemism meaning I was not good looking. This was augmented by my hair beginning to come out little by little beginning in my twenties. Would I be able to marry before I lost “the bloom of youth?”
I had told my father about my fear of not being able to find a wife, and about losing my hair. He chuckled in a friendly way and told me not to worry as he would help me find someone. I didn’t know what he meant by that, but felt that somehow, some way, he would come through for me. Nonetheless, although I looked like a scholarly and decent young man, I continued to have an inordinate and adolescent concern about whether or not my appearance was acceptable and attractive. However, my father died when I was twenty-one, and I felt I no longer had someone to support me with my wife-search problem.

Fast forward now through almost two decades of heavy drinking, failed relationships, setbacks in my academic career aspirations, more than ten years of writing and editing employment in marketing and consulting publications in commercial banking and export/import , various temporary college and high school teaching positions, writing of hundreds of poems, short stories, and essays, odd jobs including school bus driver, security guard, retail small appliance clerk, teacher of physically handicapped and delinquent teens, attendant to the developmentally disabled, lathe operator, livery car driver, high school English and social studies teacher, and global wanderer (I took a job teaching in an international school in Teheran, Iran where I contracted amoebic dysentery among other horrible experiences).

Thus, I had gone from the heights of Ivy League education and contacts with some of the country’s highest political figures and executives to some of the grittiest jobs on the planet. I had had lunch with and attended meetings with the likes of Sen. Gary Hart and Sen. Alphonse D’Amato and with various dignitaries of U.S. Customs, the U.S. Trade Representative’s office, and leaders of business in exports, imports, and banking. Yet, during my years of wandering, I was assigned to guard the Harvard Club in New York City, but didn’t tell anyone that I held a degree from that institution. Another time, I was guarding a store in Midtown Manhattan, and in walked my former boss, a VP from the large commercial bank that was my former employer – she was a graduate of Princeton – and there I was guarding the merchandise. We exchanged embarrassed hellos.

During that time of wandering, I was a security guard at a construction site. I occupied a portable toilet that had been converted into a guard shack with a small space heater, and I sat in there during the dark night hours with sub-freezing temperatures outside. On one of my shifts, local ten year old boys climbed the scaffolding at the site and began pelting me with rocks, as I hid in my “shack” while the stones came raining down.

My uprooted wandering meant I had fewer and fewer stable relationships. I would move from place to place, getting along with people; yet close to no one. The loneliness I had known when I was an undergraduate “star isolate” grew deeper and more intractable. Living in the midst of the most populated city in the USA, I became increasingly lonely. Who was I? Why was I on this planet? What hope was there for me?
In an attempt to connect, I went to a meeting held by an old woman in a Catholic Church. She represented a teacher in New Mexico known only as The Professor. She seemed lonely too, as lonely and an outsider as much as I, but she had stability in the philosophy of The Professor, a strange blend of yoga meditation and exercises, Roman Catholic doctrine and practice, and a written collection of “The Teachings of The Professor.” The Professor, an individual whose name I learned was Cyril F. Kilb, lived in New Mexico and was in charge of an entity called The Motivational Research Institute. I became more and more involved with The Program.

At first, there were only two of us who were regular attendees at the meetings in the church, but eventually the other lady dropped out, and CVD continued to meet with me alone for a number of years. At first I felt some relief from the loneliness I had been experiencing. In CVD I had made a connection. She was someone I could talk with about what was happening in my life everyday. We would meditate at each meeting, and that made me feel so-so “spiritual.”

In fact, I was so grateful that I began making larger and larger weekly contributions to The Program. I took a second job so I could give more money to The Professor (she would turn the money over to him), and also to keep busy, with the assumption being that keeping busy would help take my mind off myself and thus, to some degree, ameliorate my loneliness. It worked up to a point: someone to talk to, keeping busy, having someone to have dinner with, being accountable to another, and activities at the local Catholic churches like attending masses, saying the rosary, praying through the stations of the cross, and feeding the homeless all gave me a sense of connection and purpose. CVD had become my closest friend as well as my teacher and my spiritual [sic] director. I remained in that relationship for more than ten years. She was the only person I spoke to at any length except for a few brief polite conversations with my neighbors.

When I broke free of The Program, I found myself alone again. After ten years, I had no one to talk with. Someone I knew said she saw me talking to myself in the street. She said I looked deeply disturbed. I had experienced a life of desperate loneliness from my teens until I encountered The Program. In The Program, I felt exploited, but I still, for the first time as an adult, had someone with whom I could talk and confide on a regular basis. Then, after leaving, I was more lonely than ever – more than in my days of being a star isolate, more than when I was oppressed by the competitive demands of graduate school, lack of intimacy, and lack of love in my life. More than in my days of wandering.
Wait….! Did I not just mention “love” in a previous sentence? Finally, in The Program I had made a connection. I had stabilized. I had stopped wandering. I had someone to talk to. I had someone to discuss my problems, successes, and personal failings with. Yet, it was an exploitive relationship. Was there love? When I stopped participating, when it was over, I was talking to myself. I was experiencing loneliness even more intensely than in my days of wandering, than in my student days, than at any point in my life. Now I was plunged into even deeper despair. I no longer had a loneliness based on being other-directed or from the psychic dysfunction of anomie.

I really knew the agonies of Hamlet’s deep query, “To be or not to be, that is the question….” I understood MacBeth’s agony which I had recited in high school when he says, “Life is a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing….” I experienced the loneliness that comes from a sense of utter meaninglessness, utter absurdity, and utter hopelessness. My soul was bound by pains of experiencing the profoundest sense of rejection, dislocation, isolation, and above all, lovelessness. These terms defined my loneliness. My very being was experienced as a dirty, used mop that had been cast into the waste bin of time and space.

Yet, I had considered myself a “seeker” throughout my 20 years of wandering. I was looking for truth, for God, for ultimate meaning, for a point of perfection, even for absolute perfection. As early as 1975, I had an argument with a couple of folks in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania about the relativism of the many competing philosophies, beliefs, opinions, points of view, etc. that I observed. Everybody certainly had a right to his or her opinion, but all I saw were all those competing “right views” emanating from millions of egos. How could it not be that some might be more right than others? And if another point of view was more “right,” then there would have to be a standard for assessing that rightness? Or, perhaps the truth lay in a point of view that wasn’t expressed by anyone? These were some of the questions that assailed me. Wasn’t there a more credible approach to living and to thought than the one I observed? The Program had seemed to be the answer; yet my outrage at turning over so much money to The Professor, and the cul de sac it seemed to be when I left in a state of terror, dislocation, and despair showed me that what I had thought was true and absolute was bogus and illusory.

I kept writing, kept seeking, kept reading books, kept teaching, kept talking, kept searching for love. Only later would I understand that actually I was not seeking at all, but running away from “the Hound of Heaven,” who was calling me to His kingdom and His love, truth, and eternal life.

Then, during one lonely Christmas season in 1987, I was busy cheering myself up singing Christmas carols in my furnished room in Midwood, Brooklyn. As I was singing and rejoicing in Christ’s birth, comforted by the singular peace of “Silent Night,” gentle but powerful words invaded my stressed out brain, “You must be born again….” I had seen many televangelists, and listened to them on the radio. At the suggestion of one radio preacher, I had laid my hand on the radio and prayed that I would forgive a previous boss for having fired me. (I was still under the illusion that religion was a form of magic, and that it includes different magical rituals.) I really had no understanding of salvation by grace through faith. It was just say the “right words” [sic], practice the “right rituals” [sic], and do the “right deeds” [sic] in the name of Christ, and then, well, then you were going to escape hell, and could walk with dignity and hope on this earth. However, I was soon to learn what Martin Luther, John Calvin, the Puritan fathers, Jonathan Edwards, and millions of others found in the testimony of their walk with Christ.

“You must be born again….” I heard these words, and balked. They came as thoughts, but I sensed deeply they were thoughts from God. “But I am born again, aren’t I?” I protested. . Again, the words penetrated to the deepest center of my being, “You must be born again…there’s a church for you on Flatbush Avenue.”

The next day, I walked the four blocks up to Flatbush & Foster Avenues. Looking left and then right, my gaze fastened upon a large cross hanging in front of a storefront church. It was a classic sign. The words on the cross read, “JESUS SAVES.” I approached the front of the church, and there was a telephone number to call. Later that day, I called, and a woman with a heavy Jamaican accent answered the phone. I asked when the next service was, and she said that in two days there would be a children’s play – not a real service mind you – but a family night when Christ’s birth would be celebrated.

Two nights later, I arrived and the lights were dim as the play had already begun. As I sat down, one of the old women of the church nodded hello to me, and patted my arm. “Jesus is love,” she said, repeating the words two or three times to me as the play proceeded. Her name was Sister Duncan, and her words were so reassuring, so kind, and so comforting. After the play, the congregation sang a few praise songs and hymns, and, at the pastor’s suggestion, the evangelist who was leading the singing had an altar call. Because I was partially obscured by a pillar, neither the pastor nor the song leader even knew I was in the room.

When the call was made, I left my seat behind the pillar and walked down the aisle to the pulpit. I had gone there hoping to be born again, hoping that there would be an altar call as I had seen many on TV, and it seemed that the desires of my heart were answered. At that point in time, I did not know that I was being led by the Holy Spirit. I did not understand that I was being led by Christ himself to a new life in Him, but I was still filled with expectancy and excitement at the prospect, however vaguely defined, of being born again. My deep longing for a deeper walk with Him was being answered by the God of all creation. Had he not put that longing in my heart? Had he not pointed the way during my long, lonely, labyrinthine walk out of my atheism and overly-intellectual approach to life (my pride and false sense of self-sufficiency)? On that night, I was led to take a great turn in the road of life, and to begin to walk 24/7 with my Lord and Savior.

Then, following my answer to the call, I learned that the church was having a baptismal service in two weeks. Normally, they have instruction sessions for those who would be baptized, but recalling Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch, the pastor agreed with Philip’s rhetorical reply, namely “what shall hinder you?” and admitted me to be baptized in two weeks.
Since that wonderful time 25 years ago, I have never looked back, never regretted nor questioned for one second becoming a Christian. After two years in the church, many of the old Jamaican ladies who had grown up in the church, and saw me almost six days a week (I was always in church or visiting other churches) assured me that I was truly born again, and I found a rest, hope, peace, love, and joy that I had never experienced in my entire life. Yet, I still had a lot of growing and maturing to do, and believe that I am still growing in Christ as he sanctifies my life, and leads me on the path of being made “conformable to Jesus Christ” as he readies me for my heavenly home.
So many times I have acted in many strikingly un-Christlike ways; yet, He never failed to show me His mercy and forgiveness as I have struggled to conform myself to the Word of God. He has given me wisdom where I have been ignorant and inept. He has shown me how to be more kind and compassionate when I felt disgust, and wanted to walk away from problems or people. He has given me more patience and peace when I wanted to blow my top.

He has replaced my lonely book-centered life, with family love and a Christ-centered life. He replaced my discouragement with teaching, and restored me to my career as a teacher even when I was past 50 years old. Now he has given me a healthier body to help me better enjoy my old age, and to better serve him. He has opened my mind to be able to understand theology, which I had been unable to fathom or penetrate until about eight years ago. My search for truth, begun decades ago in the Ivy League, through many trials, temptations, and snares, through sidetracks of all kinds – high status sidetracks, dangerous sidetracks and sidetracks into extreme poverty – and through the wrongheaded attempt to blend Eastern philosophy and practice with the Truth of the Christ, I came to know He Who Is The Creator of the Universe, and Who Saves Through the Power of His Life, Death, and Resurrection.

True Story: The Life-Changing Power of Jesus Christ (Tammy’s Story)

My name is: regret, shame, pain, dirty, angry, failure, hated, forgotten. My life is full of valleys, with no mountain in sight. I haven’t seen good in so long I’m not sure it still exists. My story starts out like anybody else. For six years of my life I was the typical kid. Then life got in the way and things started changing.

When I was six I watched my great grandmother take her last breath. Four short months later, at age seven, my dad died. He died from complications from attempted suicide. I was never a “normal” kid after that. I sat alone on the floor during P.E. at school watching the other kids play begging God to just tell them I loved them.
That in itself is way too much for a seven-year old to handle all by herself. I started getting really depressed. I even went as far as attempting suicide. My heart was broken and nobody could or would help me. As time went on I came out of my depression and could see hope again. Then on January 27, 2009 my world crashed. My great aunt died. I was lost and empty. Eleven short months later tragedy struck again. My papaw died. I felt an anger start in my heart that would not soon be quenched.

On June 16, 2012 my faith was put to the test harder than before. My other papaw lost his battle with cancer. I started spiraling. I was depressed, angry, and confused. I wondered why God who is supposed to love me so much kept ruining my life. I started drinking and smoking pot daily. Curling up to a bottle was the only thing getting me through the day. I started giving myself away in pieces and slowly at first, then all at once, until I had nothing left. I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger — a tired, broken stranger. I was a mess. I was only 14 but I felt like I had lived a thousand years.
On October 20, 2013 I knew I couldn’t continue down the road I was on, so I turned to Jesus. I became a new person that day. Jesus saved me from myself. He became my life. I could finally stop fighting. After 10 years of death and pain I was exhausted. I could smile and laugh. My brokenness healed. I had hope for the future. Tragedy still came. August 17, 2014 my world came to a stop once again. My uncle who was my best friend, died. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. It didn’t make sense; he was only 46. How could someone that I loved so much and had seen every single day really be gone? Five days later another uncle passed away. I couldn’t take it. My heart was so broken and I was so emotionally exhausted. I felt like running away and never stopping.

This time was different though. I was done running. I asked Jesus to carry me through it and he did. He still is. Because of him I have a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I have valleys, but I also have mountains. I have hope; I see the good in the bad. I am transformed. My name is: joy, peace, over-comer, remembered, redeemed, restored, loved, forgiven.

True Story: Saved From Drugs, Violence, Prison, Freedom

Testimony

Richard’s testimony is an inspiration. He decided not to be anonymous because he wants his story out there to be told. He believes his story can change someone out there with the same problem he faced before meeting Jesus. Please it might be long but will appreciate if you patient to read it through….

The following text is a personal testimony of how God has brought inner healing from emotional wounds that were inflicted on me as a child, and set me free from a fear of violence and a deeply entrenched behavior pattern that had caused me to hurt others growing up. My hope and prayer is that if anyone reading this is able to identify with any of it, they will come to understand the deep healing and freedom that can be found through repentance and faith in Our Lord.

My story begins with describing myself as an intelligent child who was happy, confident and secure in my home life. This all changed however when my father suddenly left home around the same time I began to experience bullying by a boy who I used to play football with. The boy was a friend at the time, but took it upon himself to beat me and humiliate me at every given opportunity after wrongly blaming me for losing a football game. The bullying I experienced only stopped after I snapped one day and knocked him down, along with his friend who was with him at the time. Both boys had been trying to humiliate me by hitting me in front of others, but something inside just said enough is enough, and I remember a feeling of intense relief because I finally stood up to him. In retrospect I can now see how this was the beginning of a pattern of behavior that was to stay with me well into my adulthood, as I had learnt that people could not hurt me if I hurt them first.

The bullying by this particular boy did not go on for too long, but it was enough to destroy my confidence and teach me that I needed to toughen up to protect myself from being hurt again by others. Subsequently I began to try and create a tough man image that couldn’t have been further from the truth of what I felt inside. In terms of what this looked like for me, as a child I would fight with other kids in the area and would bully and intimidate others. I also became rebellious at home and school, and eventually fell in with older guys who introduced me to drugs and a criminal lifestyle, which caused me to leave school early and enter a very dark period in my life.

Throughout adolescence and early adulthood, I always knew deep down inside I was not really the person I was trying to portray to others. As much as I wanted to try and convince others that I was tough, I knew that there was always someone tougher just waiting around the corner. Inevitably I ended up in a young offender’s institute and I can clearly remember the day I was led away from court in handcuffs and was taken away to spend my first Christmas behind bars. My first sentence was only a few weeks at that point, but whilst incarcerated I was bullied once more by an older guy who took a dislike to me. Despite trying to convince myself I was a somebody, I didn’t really know how to look after myself in an institution, but I quickly learnt that the only way to get by was to make sure that I was able to convince others that I was no pushover. The next time I was sent away for violent disorder, I made sure that I got in with the right crowd and would target certain people to try and establish my reputation even though the fear of violence actually terrified me. This meant that on occasions I would assault someone for no other reason than to try and prove myself. The reality was that I took no pleasure from violence and I always felt sadness for each person I hurt. I knew it was wrong and I wanted to change, but the further I travelled down that road, the harder it became to turn around.

At 21 years old, I was sent away on remand for the first time to a tougher higher prison. I remember walking down some steps and reading a sign that said welcome to Hell. It was made even more chilling by the fact that the prison I had been sent to had been used in a film many years before, and so I actually recognized parts of the building. To make matters worse I was withdrawing from a high amount of opiates and was forced to share a cell with someone who was also coming off drugs. All we had was a small sink and a bucket to use as a toilet and that was one of the lowest moments of my life. We were locked up for 23 hours a day and each morning the door would open for slop out and I would try and get myself together and stick my chest out as I walked down the landing as if I couldn’t care less. The moment I was back in my cell I would sit there in tears wondering how I was ever going to turn my life around.

The fact was that no matter how many times I tried I would always go back to drugs just as a pig goes back to wallow in the mud. I hated life and I hated myself. Other than the drugs I also had been secretly cutting my flesh for years as a way of punishing myself, but also as a way of releasing the anger and pain I felt inside. I would even punch myself at times and hurt myself in other ways, but the more I did this the more confused and fearful I became. I really believed I was becoming insane, because I did not think that anybody else would ever deliberately self-harm. I constantly lived in fear of being found out, but without any obvious way of changing things. I would numb myself with drugs, sex and anything else that would provide temporary relief from the confusion, fear and sadness I felt inside.
Over a number of years, I abused my body to the extreme and it is testimony to God that I am even alive today after having several near-death experiences. Indeed, several times I would experience situations where only the presence of God could account for my being here today to write this, but I will write about them at some point in the future.

After many years of personal suffering and causing suffering to others, I entered treatment in 2007 to clean myself off the drugs. I knew that to continue on the same path would either lead to death or a life sentence in prison, but deep down I had no real hope that things would change. I had tried to get clean many times before, but always seemed to go back to drugs because I could not deal with the intense emotional pain brought by the shame and guilt that the drugs had been masking. After detoxing from the drugs in treatment, I was left feeling vulnerable and naked before others. I really didn’t know how to deal with this and so I spent months trying to push people away by pretending that I felt better than I actually did. I also suspected that I was going to use again when I left treatment, as I could not stand the reality of having to deal with life without drugs. The truth was I was terrified of life and often contemplated suicide, but instead of being honest and sharing this, I would use anger or lies to keep people at a distance and away from discovering how I really felt inside.
It was whilst I was in treatment that a friend took me to church one evening after I reluctantly agreed to go simply to get out for a night. I had previously believed in God as a child, but somewhere along the line my idea of God turned into imagining some ferocious being that punished me every time I made a mistake. I also had church forced on me as a child and all I saw was hypocrites who judged everybody else, but did the very things they judged others for. I therefore went to church that night with no expectations and spent the first part of the service staring at the women in the hope that I may find a nice girlfriend. At some point however, I heard the preacher talking about addiction. He spoke about a God-shaped hole inside each of us and invited the congregation to step forward and accept Jesus. I could really relate to much of what he was saying, but I remember an intense fear of going forward, as I thought that people would be watching me and I could not stand the thought of people thinking that I was a broken man. Even so I eventually fell to my knees and asked the Lord to rescue me from the personal hell that I was living in before quietly leaving the church and travelling back to the rehab.
That night I could think of nothing else other than what had happened at church. I waited till everyone was in bed before closing my eyes and began to pray. I got down on my knees again and repented of the things I had done in life. Despite going to church as a child and going through the motions of repentance, I was suddenly aware of God listening to my cries and I felt genuinely sorry, because I had hurt so many people in my life up to that point. I can see now how unlike my previous prayers of repentance, I meant it wholeheartedly this time and I remember what felt like a cool breeze come over me. I thought that the wind had come into the room, and so I checked all the doors and windows, but they were closed and the heating was on. I now believe this to be the Holy Spirit.
I went to bed that night with a peace that I had never experienced in my life and so began a journey that would ultimately help me clean myself of the drugs, but would actually involve swapping drugs for religious practice, and going to the other extreme of becoming a Christian doormat afraid of conflict and trying hard to be liked by those I placed on pedestals. Of course, I had no idea that this was the case, but in his grace the Lord was good to me and eventually allowed me to understand how I had only partially surrendered my life to the Jesus that I had heard many stories about, but did not really know personally. In terms of the testimony I am sharing now, it is only in the freedom I have found in surrendering to the Lord, that I can now share freely why I acted like some kind of gangsta, when the reality was I was simply a frightened, confused and broken man who had grown up physically, but still felt like a small child inside.

I give all the glory to God for the changes that have happened over time. I have made many mistakes along the way, but I have for the most part been willing to allow the Holy Spirit to convict me of the behavior patterns that have subconsciously controlled me even after becoming a Christian. It is only in the confidence I have in God that I can now share this in the hope it may bring encouragement to others. Furthermore, I can do this without fear of what people may think of me, as my reputation amongst men is no longer as important to me as my relationship with God.

This journey has been long and painful and has involved going through periods where I would just cry for no obvious reason. At times, I wondered if I might be having a breakdown, as I could be simply driving the car and a song on the radio would trigger the tears. I could also be watching TV with the children and I would cry at some cartoon character for no apparent reason. To anyone observing I must have looked like a real wimp at times. I have come to understand however that it’s all part of the healing process and that I do not need to stop myself from experiencing my emotions.

I grew up believing that crying was a sign of weakness in men, but I realize now that could not have been further from the truth.
In finishing this testimony I want to add that I have reached a point in my life where I am no longer afraid of violence or those who would seek to intimidate, because I am one with Him who bore our sins, was murdered, but rose again so that we may find life.

May these words be a blessing to you. Please feel free to share this testimony if you think you may know anyone who might need to hear this.

May all the glory and praise go to HIM…

True Story: I Regret My Last Relationship Part 2 #series #continuation

Seeing his wife to be, as the goat being raped, I even thought it will be painful to him. But his reactions was very different to the Fred I used to know. He shouted “you! how did you get here? Now that you know who I am, you have to die” I started shouting Fred please! Fred please! moving close to him on my kneels, then the other guy pushed me back, slapped me again and again, saying who is Fred? I think the goat is a mad one, laughing crazily. He couldn’t get what was happening between us. So callous in mind, Fred said immediately, Go get me my gun! You can never imagine if he has seen me for once. He pretended he does not know me. But instead of the other guy to go and get his gun as instructed, he moved very close to him, whispered something into his ear. All Fred said was “fine!” after that. He left the room with that guy immediately switching off the light, they banged the door.

oh! What a pain! I never knew love can turn to even death not hatred in a moment.

I was left alone! Immediately I remembered “wolves In Sheep Clothing”

That is what my pastor use to call fake brethren. I thought he was a sheep! So Fred is a wolf! Still tied on both hands, with blood on me I knelt down cried unto God, forgive me oh Lord for my carelessness, but save me from these wolves. That was when I understood everything that my pastor use to tell us singles. I realised I was not patient at all. I didn’t allowed God to lead me, but Fred. I regretted all the steps I took.

I was left alone in that dark room for hours I cannot tell. I remembered my phone and my bag that was taken by the guy that raped me. Can I even do anything with my hands tied? I was so hopeless! I imagined if aunty Victoria can know what she put me through. She connected me to this evil man, thinking he would tutor me in the way of God. No one knows my whereabouts. Mother thought I was at Kano, likewise my Aunt. Who can save me now? I was deep in this thought when I heard foot steps again. The first thing that came to my mind was that my prayers has been answered, probably he has changed his mind to kill me. I was wrong, no one came to my door. I started hearing voices, music, sound of people having happy moments. Guessed I have been forgotten. The noise was growing bigger! I guessed it was a party. Suddenly my fear left me. Something just told me that I can excape. I stood up, thank God my blindfold has been removed, I bent to look through the door hole, I didn’t see anything. I bent again, used my chin to press the door handle, Lo and behold it opened. I peeped out, to the right, the corridor led to a big room afar off, supposed to be a sitting room, but it was having no furniture, afar off, I saw people dancing in twos and most of them carrying bottles, I guessed that was beer or hot drinks. Odour of smokings has filled the whole place. To the right of the corridor, the far end led to an opening I saw not well enough. The house was poorly lighted. I summoned courage, like Esther “if I die I die” I tip toe, moving towards the opening, although I didn’t know where the opening led too. I haven’t walked a little distance when a guy half naked, drunk I guessed, came out from another door on the corridor. I almost fainted, but surprisingly, he said “Mary! Mary! I said I’m not drunk, give me more drink now” trying to pull me to himself. Immediately I keyed into the game. I said oh! more drinks for you! Loose my hands! I turned my back on him. Immediately he bent down to loose the rope singing along with the music.. He found it so difficult, he was pulling my hands instead of him loosing the rope. I felt much pains, that was when I knew how drunk he was, but I had to manage. Luckily for me, one hand came out of the rope suddenly. I used the that hand to remove my other hand from the rope. I pulled up my skirt very well, I told the guy” go join them, let me get you more drinks, staggering to the dancing room, he left. I continued towards the opening still tip toeing. When I got there, It only led to another room, lighted though, I busted into tears, I couldn’t cry aloud. I lost hope of escape!

Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Matthew:7:15

True Story: I Regretted My Last Relationship Part 1 #Series #Top Trend

I never knew he was not a believer. We prayed together, we church together, we even fasted together. He was everything to me. When I needed money he gave me. I took him to my mum, to my greatest surprise mum loved him. Mum has never liked any of my male friends. She must have excuse for not liking them. One was too short for me, despite he was a good Christian. What an excuse. True! I am a short beautiful girl. But I loved Dave! Dave was too short for mum. A little shorter than me though. But does that really matters? All I cared about was someone that can understand me. When I raise my hand, Dave knows what I wanted. We were the most beautiful couple on campus. We did everything together. But he never touched me for sex. He was a good home trained boy that does not believe in that, naturally.

My growth spiritualy was slow but I was not an unbeliever when I men Fred. I couldn’t pray through, but he convinced me that he heard God spoke to him. He was mentoring me I thought. Put me through in so many spiritual things. He condemned so many things I use to do. I love my trousers, jean most especially. He took them away! Bought me ten beautiful colourful skirts, just in one day. I haven’t left school when I met him. Fred was a civil engineer. I met him at my aunt’s church in porthacourt when I went to see my aunt from school. Fred was a youth leader at my aunt’s church. Oh! I regretted the day I met Fred. I spent two weeks with aunty Vic. It was like a day, just because of Fred. As if my break should not end again. He took my number on that same day aunty Vic introduced me to him. We became friends that same day. Our friendship brought him to University of Ibadan where I was studying then severally. He will always lodge in an hotel when he comes around.

I was serving as a youth Corp when I decided to visit Fred without notice. I travelled down from Kano to porthacourt to see Fred on this fateful day. I got to his house around 9:05. The gate was left unlocked. I peeped and peeped, no sign of the gate man. I wanted to do a surprise visit. I entered the compound without anyone noticing me. Getting to the door, it was locked, but I was hearing sounds from inside. But not of people talking, it was not a sound I was really familiar with either. Not of pain, not of joy, but so weak. I peeped through the window I was hearing the sound from. It was so dark. I turned round the house to the other door, it was wide opened. Right in the kitchen I met a guy in a hot sex with a lady. I ran back. He left the girl, and ran after me. He got me so quickly. Slapped me, asking me who I wanted. I said “please its Fred” He dragged me along, took me inside, open a dark room, threw me on the floor, and said, good we have a new goat now! I tell you, I was breathing as if it was my last breath. He pointed a gun at me, and told me to hold my lips. He opened the wardrobe in the room, brought out rope to tie my hands to the back. He tied my face with a scarf he loosed from his head.

I was lying down almost lifeless for fear, when I noticed a wet hands pull down my skirt. I wanted to shout but I remembered the gun. I started begging him. He slapped me severally and deflowered me. I cried and cried as he was struggling to do this. After this I heard him left the room banging the door behind him.

I was still sobbing like a baby, when I head the voice of Fred coming along the corridor of the room I was put. I heard someone told him, “Scot! we have a new goat, Baba will be glad, I think she missed her road, she was looking for one Fred”

I heard the door opened, and I saw the ray of light through the scarf on my face as they switched on the room’s light. Then Fred said “why the blood” I was bleeding! “Idiot! did you rape the goat?” Fred said. I didn’t know she was a virgin! He replied. “Notwithstanding you have defiled the goat! She must not meat a man for seven days, Please throw her away! She is not useful. We shall use the old goat. She is already here for seven days.” Fred said again. I was shaking where I was lying for the revelation that Fred is a cultist.

By himself he pulled off my blindfold, just to discover his wife to be.

N:B Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father.

The story continues …

The Drunk Driver #truestory #forgiveness

Everyone is sure that the Bible is full of messages about forgiveness, but when it comes down to it, few people can identify exactly what the text actually says about it.

The first thing someone calls out is usually “70 times seven,” a reference to Jesus’ instruction to his disciples that they must forgive without bound. Next, students mention the Lord’s Prayer, citing the verse, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Often there is a lull at this point, and then someone remembers Jesus’ words from the cross, “Father, forgive them.” With most groups, the discussion falters here.

Let’s read Chris Williams story.

It was a cold night in February 2007 when the car holding Chris Williams and his family was hit by a 17-year-old drunk driver. Immediately, Chris checked on his children in the back seat and quickly realized his 11-year-old son and 9-year-old daughter had died. Then as he watched, his pregnant wife sitting next to him exhaled for the last time. Meanwhile, Williams was in so much pain he could barely move his arm to turn off his car’s engine.

However, before he had even been rescued from his car, Williams told the Deseret News he had this thought:

Whoever has done this to us, I forgive them. I don’t care what the circumstances were; I forgive them.

He proved as good as his word, going on to publicly forgive his family’s killer and developing a relationship with him and his family.

Today, Williams is a motivational speaker, sharing his incredible story of healing and forgiveness and inspiring others to extend mercy and forgiveness as well.

I cried when I read this story. How many of us can be like Williams and follow what the Bible says about forgiveness? It is hard to forgive, bug we should also think about Jesus what he said before He took the final breath.

May the Lord give us the spirit of forgiveness in Jesus name. Amen!!!

True Story: A Devoted Muslim Convert to Christianity

This is not the first time have heard or experienced this, but this testimony is unique I have to share the story.

Khalid Mansoor Soomro is from the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. He was an ardent follower of Mohammed until he decided to put a challenge to some Christian students at his school. This dramatic testimony tells how a Muslim convert came to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Khalid’s Challenge

And He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.” (Mark 16:15, NKJV )
I belong to a Muslim family. When I was 14 years old, I was studying in a convent school in Pakistan. My parents had forced me to learn the Qur’an by heart when I was seven, and so I did. I had a lot of Christian fellows (or acquaintances) at school, and was surprised to see them studying because I had always found Christians to be of low profile in the society.

I discussed and argued a lot with them about the accuracy of the Qur’an and rejection of the Bible by Allah in the Holy Qur’an. I wanted to force them to accept Islam . Often my Christian teacher told me not to do so. He said, “God may choose you as he chose the Apostle Paulus.” I asked him to explain who Paulus was because I knew Muhammad only.

A Challenge

One day I challenged the Christians, suggesting that we each burn the other’s Holy book. They should burn the Qur’an, and I should do the same with the Bible. We agreed: “The book which would burn, would be false.

The book which would not burn would have the truth. God himself would save his Word.”

The Christians were frightened by the challenge. Living in an Islamic country and doing such a thing could lead them to face the law and meet its consequences. I told them I would do it by myself.

With them watching, first, I set the Qur’an on fire, and it burned before our eyes.
Then I attempted to do the same with the Bible. As soon as I tried, the Bible struck my chest, and I fell to the ground. Smoke surrounded my body. I was burning, not physically, but from a spiritual fire. Then suddenly I saw a man with golden hair at my side. He was wrapped in light. He placed his hand on my head and said, “You are my son and from now on you will preach the gospel in your nation. Go! Your Lord is with you.”

Then the vision continued, and I saw a gravestone, which had been removed from the tomb. Mary Magdalene spoke to the gardener who had taken the body of the Lord. The gardener was Jesus himself. He kissed the hand of Mary, and I woke up. I felt very strong as if someone could strike me, but I would not be hurt.

A Rejection

I went home and I told my parents what had happened, but they did not believe me. They thought the Christians had me under some magic, but I told them that everything had happened before my very own eyes and that many people were watching. They still did not believe me and kicked me out of my home, refusing to accept me as their family member.

I went to a church close to home; I told the priest all about what had happened. I asked him to show me the Bible.

He gave me the Scriptures, and I read about the event I had seen in the vision with Mary Magdalene . That day, February 17, 1985, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior.

A Calling

My family rejected me. I went to various churches and learned about the Word of God. I also followed many Bible courses and eventually went into Christian ministry. Now, after 21 years, I have had the joy of seeing many people come to the Lord and accept Jesus Christ as Savior.

Thanks to the Lord, I am now married and have a Christian family. My wife Khalida and I are involved in the work of the Lord and have been able to share the miracles God has done in our lives.

Even though it is not easy and we face many hardships, we feel like Paul who went through hardships and suffering for the glory of his Savior, Jesus, who himself suffered during his walk on earth and his time on the cross.

Testimony: From Reckless and Violent To a Changed Man of God

Maurice’s harrowing experiences in the US Army and the death of his young son made him reckless and violent. He struggled with relationships, and became alcoholic and suicidal. But when he asked God to make him a better man, he underwent a life-change. Now Maurice uses his stories and poetry to turn hearts toward Jesus Christ .

Maurice’s Life-Change

My name is Maurice Wisdom Bishop and I am 28 years old currently serving in the US Army. I deployed in Iraq for 13 months. While I was there, a soldier in my unit shot himself with an M-16 and the 5.56mm round hit him in the heart and he died. I felt so much guilt because I was one of the soldiers who had made fun of him. I also blamed myself. I was very affected but I hid my emotions inside.

Dark Times

After my 13 month deployment, my ex-wife and baby’s mama called me unexpectedly after six months of not contacting me. She told me then that my one-year-old son had died, and she never even told me about the funeral.

I became angry and my heart grew cold. I had nightmares from my deployment and about my dead son. I couldn’t sleep so I started smoking a lot more and drinking a lot of beer, brown liquor, and wine just to go to sleep. Although I was a smoker since age 12, that night I became an alcoholic. I became reckless and violent.

Trouble , Trouble, Trouble

Emotionally, I couldn’t function.
My relationships always failed. I was married and ended up in a bad divorce. I didn’t communicate with my family because I felt like they couldn’t help me and I didn’t get along with them.

I felt alone and I was suicidal many times. I stabbed myself in the leg, tried cutting my chest, and cut my arm.
I even mixed a few Percocets in my glass of Hennessy. I became homeless and had to survive in the streets.

Because of my bad reputation for mistreating women, a woman who I used to sleep with sent three of her cousins (who had just gotten out of jail for attempted murder) to kill me. I was chased and shot at, but I’ve managed to survive.

I moved from Philly to Lindenwold, New Jersey to try starting my life over, but trouble always found me.

A Chance to Change

I remember asking God to change my life and make me the man he wanted me to be. Nothing miraculous happened, but I kept reading and studying the Bible and I was going to church. Before I knew it, I had stopped smoking, drinking, fighting, mistreating women, and hating people!
My life took a 360 degree turn: God has changed my life completely. Now I’m in great relationship with my parents and family. I have a home, a career, I sleep well, and I’m free from alcoholism and smoking. I even received a second chance in life and remarried my beautiful wife, Jakerra, and have a step-son, Amari.

I’m a published poet and the author of Blood on Paper and Pain Living in My Pen . I use my stories and poetry to change lives.
If anybody reading this doesn’t know Jesus, please get to know him for yourself.

Just One Lie

This write up was from a whatsapp group am involve in, I can’t keep it to myself but share to everyone.

I have always wondered why the Jews did not and still don’t believe Christ resurrected after three days, until I was led to a scripture in the Bible, which shows it was JUST ONE LIE that nullified what Christ did. What was the lie?

The chief priests told the guards to lie that the disciples came to steal the body at night, while they were sleeping. They were given money to tell this lie and they told this lie. This lie is what has robbed many Jews the gift of Salvation.

Reminds me of Carol’s story…

Carol was on the bed with her husband on that fateful Saturday morning, when her phone rang, it was her twin sister calling. Simultaneously, the door bell rang, David Her husband went for the door, while she recieved her call.

” Carol, please do me a favor, my husband will call you soon, tell him we were out all day yesterday.. Together…Tell him, we went shopping, and got back late around 11:45pm” Christy rushed her words

” But that is a lie, and I don’t tell lies. ” Carol answered

” Please, Carol, just this one lie, save my life, and I promise after this I.will stop my promiscuity…”She pleaded as she dropped the call…

Meanwhile, downstairs, David was been interrogated by some police officers, who found his ID card at a crime scene yesternite.

David told them he had nothing to do with the crime as he was at home, last night from around 6pm with his wife. He told them to let him call his wife, as she was a witness. He shouted Carol’s name and told her to come downstairs.

Carol was on her way down, when Christy’s husband called…

” Hello Emma.., Good morning, happy weekend… Fine… What? Your wife?.. Yes we were together yesterday till late at night… I even got home around 11:45pm ..ok.. No problem “

At this point, David rose up in shock and fear, as the officials were looking at him like they have nailed him…

” Carollll…. What sort of lie did you just tell, we were both at home.. ” The officers cut in

” Mr David, don’t put words in her mouth, you have been telling us lies, we have your wife’s voice on record, definitely you were at the crime scene and you killed Miss Kike after you raped her” He brought out the handcuffs

” What? ” Carol shouted

Before Carol could fully grasp what happened and explained what truly happened, her husband was behind bars.. Carol asked Christy to speak up, which she did, but the case was against them, because of just ONE LIE, that had been recorded.

David was sentenced to Life imprisonment and he spent 30 years before the real culprit was found, it was his cousin who had stolen his wallet. The victim had struggled with the rapist, it was then the wallet fell. The cousin picked it up, but the ID card had fallen.

JUST ONE LIE tampered with a man’s destiny, be careful of every word that proceeds out of your mouth..

The one lie, the soldiers at the tomb of Jesus said thousands of years back, is still what is making the Jews resist CHRIST as the Messiah..

” They told the soldiers, “You must say, ‘Jesus’ disciples came during the night while we were sleeping, and they stole his body. So the soldiers took the money and did as they were instructed. And this story has been widely circulated among the Jews to this very day.”
Matt 28:13&15

BE careful of that ONE LIE. it goes beyond you.It can affect Generations.

True Story: Every business requires absolute dedication Interview with Rennie Chamasanyan- Repost

Rennie Chamasanyan has been living in London for nearly 14 years. As every beginning is difficult, Rennie’s was not an easy one as well, but she always knew she would succeed. For seven years she worked as a financial director at a TV in London and for four years she has had her own financial firm. Her great passion is construction, but what makes her extremely happy is her family, her husband Hovanes and their one-year old son Georgi.

At the beginning of my new life in England I was working at three places and slept for three or four hours a night to have money to pay my bills and rent. I bought a house almost a year later.

I moved to London and started looking for a job. I lived with my best friend in the centre of London and I started work almost outside London. Every day I travelled for an hour and a half. While everyone was coming from the outskirts to the centre to work, I was doing the opposite … but one morning I was running because I was late and I fell on the street … A bus almost ran me over and stopped just a meter away from me because I crossed on a red light. I was so scared and I decided that this was the last time I do this to myself and decided to quit. I went to the office with torn pants and told them I was done. Then I decided that I would look for a job within walking distance and wouldn’t need to travel any more. And so it happened. After some time I went to an interview at a television and to my great happiness they liked me. I had to walk to the office for just ten minutes!

Work in television was probably the dream of every person with a wish to fulfil themselves. I was financial director for the entire television and the offices abroad. I travelled to Brazil, Ukraine, France. I had assistants, an office, a driver, business trip costs, but above all my word had weight and people respected me a lot. I had many rights and duties, of course. I learned a lot and now this helps me every day. After years I left because I knew and could do everything and only the owners were above me. I didn’t want to limit my development and wanted to use my time in a better way.

Every business mostly requires absolute dedication. It’s not so important how much money you will invest but how much effort and desire you have. Will, ambition … I think these are more important than capital. I started my financial business with an old laptop and the construction business – with a small tape measure.

Accounting business is something that I really feel comfortable with. Our office is not large, but everyone is at a very high level. We have a lawyer who deals with all legal issues and immigration lawyers. My clients have full confidence in me – I have had clients for five years that I’ve never met in person. I try to do everything online and by mail. I respect the laws of England and I think that I advise people in the most efficient manner.

My formula for success is a lot of work, good assessment of the circumstances, screening of situations, risks and especially to be accompanied by someone who inspires you. There is nothing more devastating than being with someone who doesn’t make you happy. This can’t be good for your success, neither personal nor professional. The person beside you is very important … really! This person should make you give the best you are capable of, to be your support when you need it, to make you feel loved, valued and irreplaceable.

By: Julia Jarvis

True Story: It Is Between You And God #Inspiration

Each time I read this story over and over again, it makes a deeper meaning to me. So I send to you, may be it might touch you the way I’m touched.

One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.

He said, “I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.”

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough.

Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about being paid.

This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, “And think of me.”

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan .

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: “You don’t owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.”

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard….

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.”

There is an old saying “What goes around comes around.” Today, I sent you this story, and I’m asking you to pass it on .. Let this light shine.

Good friends are like stars. You don’t always see them, but you know they are always there.

Do good to all people, don’t lose your good attitude, it pays heavily.

It’s between you and God.

*_Your ‘Kindness’ may be treated as your weakness, still be kind._*
*_Your ‘Help’ to others may go unnoticed, still be helpful._*
*_People may cheat you if you are ‘Honest’, still be honest._*
*_People may often forget your good deeds, but always do good._*
*_It is never between you and them; it’s between ‘You’ and ‘GOD’._*

Photo credit: Google

True Story: A Day Before Her Death, This 27-Year-Old Wrote A Letter, And It May Change Your Life Forever

Most of you would have read this sad story, but some haven’t. I had to reflect and share this touching story and an advise to us living by Holly Butcher.

A young woman who lost her life not too long but shared to the world bow appreciative one should be when breathing. I don’t know how many times have she’d tears, but am happy she’s with the Lord.

You might be dissatisfied with your life. Not enough money, unfulfilling job, meandering relationship. Perhaps you spend too much time online arguing about politics with strangers. Sometimes we all feel like something is missing, and perhaps all we need is a little perspective.

“If something is making you miserable, you do have the power to change it – in work or love or whatever it may be. Have the guts to change. You don’t know how much time you’ve got on this earth so don’t waste it being miserable.”

These are the words of Holly Butcher, from Grafton in NSW, Australia. She recently lost her battle with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare form of cancer that primarily affects young people. Holly was just 27 when she passed away.

As she came to terms with her mortality, a heartrendingly painful thing to have to do at such a young age, Holly decided to write an open letter about the lessons she learned, reflecting on the way her experience made her come to value every second of her time on earth. “I’m 27 now. I don’t want to go,” she wrote. “I love my life. I am happy… I owe that to my loved ones. But the control is out of my hands.”

Perhaps Holly’s words, coming from the heart with passion and a searing honesty, will help people to see the bigger picture, one that is often lost in a sea of ultimately meaningless stresses and worries that quickly consume our everyday existence. She urges us to grasp the things that are important, and live life to the full. “That’s the thing about life, it is fragile, precious, unpredictable and each day is a gift, not a given right.”

Give your loved ones a hug, and smile, because you are alive!

May your soul rest in perfect peace Holly.

Value: Repost

A popular speaker started off a seminar by holding up a $20 bill. A crowd of 200 had gathered to hear him speak. He asked, “Who would like this $20 bill?”

200 hands went up.

He said, “I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this.” He crumpled the bill up.

He then asked, “Who still wants it?”

All 200 hands were still raised.

“Well,” he replied, “What if I do this?” Then he dropped the bill on the ground and stomped on it with his shoes.

He picked it up, and showed it to the crowd. The bill was all crumpled and dirty.

“Now who still wants it?”

All the hands still went up.

“My friends, I have just showed you a very important lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, life crumples us and grinds us into the dirt. We make bad decisions or deal with poor circumstances. We feel worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. You are special – Don’t ever forget it!

Source: living3

True Story About Colonel Sanders | Kentucky Fried Chicken

The first time I tasted KFC chicken was the first time I knew a fast food joint can compete hard with the numerous joints in my country. 😂😂😂 The best I must say!!!  Yea I love my junk days.

Once, there was an older man, who was broke, living in a tiny house and owned a beat up car. He was living off of $99 social security checks. At 65 years of age, he decide things had to change. So he thought about what he had to offer. His friends raved about his chicken recipe. He decided that this was his best shot at making a change.

He left Kentucky and traveled to different states to try to sell his recipe. He told restaurant owners that he had a mouthwatering chicken recipe. He offered the recipe to them for free, just asking for a small percentage on the items sold. Sounds like a good deal, right?

Unfortunately, not to most of the restaurants. He heard NO over 1000 times. Even after all of those rejections, he didn’t give up. He believed his chicken recipe was something special. He got rejected 1009 times before he heard his first yes.

With that one success Colonel Hartland Sanders changed the way Americans eat chicken. Kentucky Fried Chicken, popularly known as KFC, was born.

Remember, never give up and always believe in yourself in spite of rejection.