Three valuable Gospel lessons that took me forty years to learn
A Savior Story
Horror gripped me as the room shook. Through the window, I watched darkness descend. The moon glowed an awful red. A crazed goat ran across the stage and scattered the actors. The play abruptly ended as everyone fled in confusion. I twisted in my sweat-drenched sheets trying to regain consciousness.
Since early childhood, night terrors haunted me. I knew how to handle this. I just needed to wake up—open my eyes. So, I did. But the vision continued. The finger of the Almighty pinned me to the bed. “You will watch,” whispered the Holy One to my heart. The dream continued.
I ran into the eerie light of the streets. “Where’s Judy?! I have to find Judy.” I ran to her house, then to the church. Nowhere. She was gone. I found a cottage; the door ajar. I ducked in for cover to escape the chaos and violence outside.
Pale green walls enveloped me with grace. In the corner stood an oversized, overstuffed easy chair with a Bible sitting on it. I picked up the Bible and curled up in the chair. Weeping and reading, knowing the Lord raptured Judy and every other saint from the earth—and I was left behind. I sat hopelessly aware of the wrath to come—and the just condemnation against me. I had rejected God; He had not rejected me. Then the Lord released me from the trance.
I sat up, knowing I was a sinner who needed a Savior. And if I did not ask Jesus to forgive me, I would reap the eternal penalty of hell that I deserved.
I lived in light of that reality for three terrifying days. Then, alone in my apartment, I fell to my knees, threw up my hands, and prayed, “Lord, You win. I am a sinner. I do need a Savior, and I believe Jesus died for me and rose again to forgive me and give me eternal life.”
I rose a new woman that day in October 1981. This month marks my fortieth spiritual birthday. At this point in my life, I’ve walked twice as long with Jesus as I walked without Him. Looking back from this vantage point, I’m learning three valuable lessons as I compare Teri B.C. (before Christ) and the new creature you know today.
There are no second-class saints. I grew up in a household of hedonists. My father was a Sailor, and my mother is French. My swearing made bikers blush by the time I was twelve.
Substance abuse and sexual promiscuity (that led to an abortion) marred my teenage years and continued into my young adulthood.
When Bill asked me to date him, I felt he should know about my former life. He listened and told me my sin was under the blood. He, too, was saved in his twenties. He also had a past. Despite my confession, Bill asked me to marry him. I became his wife; he became a pastor.
Our first child was stillborn. A friend, who also suffered the loss of miscarriage, visited me. I expressed concern that maybe I deserved this because of my sinful choice (the abortion).
“No, Teri,” she emphatically declared, “your sins are forgiven. There is now, therefore, no condemnation in Christ!”
Truth comforted my soul. Then later, my worried mom asked if I felt my newfound God was punishing me; that same truth freed me to testify, “No, Mom, God’s forgiven me for that.”
After all these years walking in truth, it’s easy to forget Whose righteousness covers me. Our journeys with Jesus aren’t perfect; saints stumble and fall. And only Pharisees judge.
Recently a brother came to Bill and me confessing his pornography addiction. I’m relieved we didn’t know years earlier. A less mature, more arrogant Teri would have met that confession with contempt. But that day, my heart broke for this brother, my brother, who needed forgiveness and restoration. I, too, disobey at times. I, too, needed to confess sin to others and ask for forgiveness.
Sisters, we have no righteousness of our own. And the Good Shepherd carries lost lambs back to His fold without ever treating them as black sheep. God’s grace rescues us; this grace we must extend to others.
Don’t squander witnessing opportunities on secondary debates. Looking back to my high school years, I never heard a peer share the Gospel with me. I had one girlfriend who mentioned Jesus occasionally. But the only thing she tried to persuade me of was to be pro-life. We had endless debates about abortion. She failed to convince me (God had to do that).
I wish, looking back, she would have explained how she was a sinner and how she found a Savior. Winning arguments about secondary issues like sexual identity, abortion, or whatever can’t save anyone. People can be homosexual and get saved. People can be pro-abortion and be born again (I know because I was). They can also believe all these things are sins and be lost—condemned because they depend on their goodness to get into heaven. Only Jesus is that good. He alone is the way.
Let’s remember all have sinned and come short of the glory of God; when I tell someone about my trespasses and how I need a Savior, it opens their eyes to their own need. The Holy Spirit convicts them of their sin (John 16:8). For me, it was my pride, my lack of compassion. God didn’t deal with my pro-murder view until several months after my conversion. It’s our job to tell the good news about the Savior—our Jesus—Who so loved them and us that He died for us.
Love covers a multitude of sins—and so should we. I’ve learned discretion means the only violations I ever confess are mine. To tell about another’s transgression, even in the context of prayer, is slander. We learn from the book of Job that Satan loves to slander and accuse God’s children. Job wasn’t a perfect man, but God proclaimed him to be one.
When Satan goes before the Lord, saying, “Look what Teri did! She hates you.” The Lord responds, “No, Teri’s mine. She loves me because I love her.” Jesus covers my sin, and accusations cease. Likewise, we should protect one another.
God wants His children to feel safe, saved—not belittled or betrayed. We need to keep the confessions of others as we want them to uphold ours, covered by forgiveness—remembered no more. For as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our sins from us.
Judy, the woman in my dream, was my ex-boyfriend’s mom. She knew the depth of my depravity, but she covered my sins in love—love covers a multitude of sins. When we love sinners and hate our sin, we become brilliant ambassadors for Christ. A sea of lost souls surrounds us, so let’s toss them lifejackets wrapped in our Savior stories. Who will you share your testimony with this week?
