It's TIME to Do Something

On great story of an Atheist who turned to God and believed! Indeed, nothing is impossible with the Lord. He always comes out victorious over AIDS, over Atheism, over anything. If we only allow our lives and ourselves to be used by God then more lives will be touched and changed, more people will be blessed, more souls will come to know Jesus Christ and more people will experience victory the same way this man has experienced it! Read the story and DO SOMETHING!

The story is something I have read from The High Calling Blogs. Actually, I hesitated in posting this as I have already posted the daily word for today. But I was so touched and moved by the story that I need you to read it as well. It's indeed the TIME to stand up and share the GOOD NEWS that we know.

Here's an excerpt from the post: Covenant Stories: Our First Funeral

Births, weddings, and funerals. These are hallmark events of any church. At Covenant we had seen a few births, including two of my own children, and a number of weddings. But as of 1997, there had been no funerals. The reason is obvious enough: our oldest member at that time was 53. New churches are often started by younger people, but I always felt a little out of balance in those days. In the churches of my youth, there were always plenty of gray hair in the pews. I asked Ben once what he thought we could do to attract some older people to Covenant.

“We might just have to grow our own gray heads,” he said. “And if the offerings keep looking like this, Luke and I will be our first.”

But, as we all know, the old are not the only ones who die. And so death made it’s inevitable first call to Covenant Baptist Church.

My wife met George Swisher at the hospital where she was working as a chaplain. George had AIDS and was in the hospital battling an infection of some kind. George was an avowed atheist. His father faithfully took the family to the Baptist Church on Sundays, but then he beat any idea of God out of George during the rest of the week. In George’s mind, his father, the beatings, and the Baptist Church were all rolled up together in a ball of painful memories. It’s not surprising that he hadn’t been in church for awhile.

One afternoon George was in a sleepy, drug-induced state and thought he saw Jesus standing at the foot of his hospital bed. He shook his head a few times and the vision of Jesus faded. About that time my wife walked into the room and announced that she was a chaplain. Normally George would have thrown her out, but the Jesus vision had spooked him a bit, so he let her stay. She did not push God talk on him. The two talked about life, laughed, and ended up becoming friends. I met George at a sandwich shop to talk, and in that conversation he confessed that he would like to come to church, but he felt it was a problem that he did not believe in God. I asked him why he wanted to come to church if he didn’t believe in God. He told me he remembered the hymns they sang in church when he was a boy. He thought he would like to hear that music again before he died.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay, come to church. People come to church for all sorts of reasons. Just sit there and sing hymns. You don’t have to do anything else. We won’t bother you or try to get you to convert or join or anything.” George was there the next Sunday, wearing jeans, black tennis shoes, a plaid flannel shirt, and suspenders. He sat in church, closed his eyes during the hymns, and sang along. He had a beautiful baritone voice, and within a few weeks, people were sitting near George so they could hear him sing.

I don’t have time to tell you how George became a Christian, and I don’t remember in any case. We never asked him. We just let him sing on Sundays and come to church picnics and be with us. We became his adopted family, you might say. One day George pulled me aside and said, “I think I’m ready to be baptized and become a Christian.”

“Really?” I said. I was surprised. “What happened?”

He scratched his beard. “Well, I don’t know for sure if there is a God. I still kind of doubt it, to be honest. But I started praying. I’ve been calling God ‘Dad.’ You know, like, ‘Hey Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?’ Do you think that’s okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “God, Dad, Father, Creator, Abba, whatever.”

Continue Reading the story by clicking

God Bless you!
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