This is not the devotion that I planned to write this week, but sometimes events happen that cause plans to change.
When I was a new believer in Jesus I was taught to give my “testimony.” I was told that I should write out and memorize the story of how I became a believer, so I’d be prepared to recite it whenever God gave me the opportunity. Behind these instructions was an assumption, although I don’t think I ever heard it explicitly stated, that I would have only one testimony, which could be told in just a few minutes. It was also assumed that, once written down, my testimony would not change in any substantial way.
When I look into the Scriptures, however, I see that Jesus told his disciples:
When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father – the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father – he will testify about me. And you also must testify, for you have been with me from the beginning (John 15:26-27).
This seems to be saying that Jesus wanted his disciples to testify about everything they had seen and heard, not just about how they personally had come to faith. They were to be witnesses in the fullest sense of the word.
This matters because I am no longer a new believer; I have been a follower of Christ for more than forty years now, and if I were to tell you everything I have experienced in those years, it would take a very long time. I have, therefore, many testimonies; many times that I have personally experienced God’s power and grace in my life. Or, perhaps I might think of it as one long testimony, spread out over many stories. And just this past week I gained a new story.
You see, over about the past five months, my stepmother Jackie’s health has been declining, until it became clear that she was dying. My wife, Catherine, and I made plans to drive from Reno down to Southern California to see her one last time, and we asked quite a few of our friends to pray that we would arrive in time to say goodbye. This was important to me because, when my mother died in 1993, it was very sudden. I didn’t even know she was sick until I got a phone call from my grandfather, telling me she was gone.
Catherine and I weren’t able to leave Reno until Wednesday afternoon of this past week, so we drove about halfway and spent that night in Lone Pine. While we were in transit, my stepsister sent us a text saying that Jackie was in the active dying phase, and didn’t have much time. By then I was already tired, and Catherine’s vision does not allow her to drive. There was nothing we could do except pray in the car and continue on as we’d planned.
Thursday we got up early and drove the rest of the way. We visited with my dad for a bit, and then he took us over to see Jackie for about 45 minutes. She didn’t wake up, but at least we were there. About an hour after we left her, I got a call from my dad to tell me that Jackie had died.
I knew Jackie longer than I knew my biological mother, and right now, as I write this on Friday, the impact of her loss has not fully hit. I’m going to need some time to process. But already I know that I will hang on to this – that God answered my prayer, and the prayers of at least two dozen brothers and sisters in Christ. This is now part of my testimony, another way in which I can say I know that God is real, and that he cares. Not because I read it in a book, but because I experienced it. I am a witness of Christ’s love.