Witness Stand Series - “My Witness”

 6 Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”

7 He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. 8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

9 After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight.

The commissions of Matthew 28 and Acts 1, place people at the forefront of God’s plan. It is our witness to God’s work that he desires for us to share. Too often when we speak about sharing the Gospel, we think of defending it. 

My Atheist neighbor doesn’t believe in God, so what can I say to get him to believe? Or, my Hindu neighbors believe in 300,000+ gods, how can I get them to understand that Jesus is the only God? Or, my child said to me, “if God is loving, why is there so much pain and suffering in the world?”

These situations are where apologetics comes in. Each year I teach an apologetic class on Wednesday nights to answer these types of questions and encounters. And every year, I preach an apologetic series in the Fall, to answer some of these questions. In fact, in a couple of weeks, we’ll be getting into that apologetic series. But as we come out of our summer series in Matthew, and the commission that Jesus gives to his disciples there, I feel led to a mini-bridge series to connect the two.

Too often, we think we have to have all these answers, all these prepared remarks, this polished evangelist system. Those can be good, and I do believe there’s a place for it, as 1 Peter 3:15, states, “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…”

This is apologetics, to be prepared to give a reason for our hope. But notice that in both Acts 1 and 1 Peter, we’re told to be a witness and give an answer to the hope we have.

This morning, I want to share my witness of how I came to know Jesus as my Savior with you. Something I haven’t done in the context of a sermon. This is to show you what it means to be a witness to the world. This is why I have hope in Jesus.

My parents were unsaved until right around my birth. They came to know Jesus as their Savior through the work of the Assemblies of God denomination in Lodi, California back in the early 80s. There they became heavily involved in the church’s ministries. Sunday school teachers, bus drivers, that sort of thing. I was born during this time and was dedicated to the Lord. As a toddler I was a handful and drove my mom to tears at her ladies Bible studies. 

Due to my family’s financial situation, we moved away from the city out to the foothills of Amador County. There my parents attended a country church where they were hurt deeply by the politics that too often accompany sinners saved by grace.

My family began to church hop, trying to find a place that felt like home. But none truly fit and eventually when my older sister began playing softball tournaments year around, church took a back seat. What also made it hard to find a church, was the fact that my family moved four times between my kindergarten and sixth grade years. 

So, from when I was about ten to fourteen years old, I don’t think I attended any church services with my family. Maybe once or twice, but nothing I can remember. It was my seventh grade year that I was invited to a Methodist church youth group. I had a made a new friend when my family moved its final time to a little house in the middle of the town of Ione, California. He invited me there because his older sister attended. They needed help with their Halloween haunted house, so I helped out. It didn’t hurt that I had a crush on one of the girls to get me in the door. 

But even after I started to become a regular, something felt off. The youth leader didn’t seem to really know what they were talking about, and the older kids were jerks. So, both me and my friend stopped attending. It was with this friend that my teenage attitude began to be extremely rebellious. In junior high, I began to smoke, drink a little, and other things we don’t need to go into here.

I had always been a “D” average student, school really wasn’t interesting to me, and my attitude towards teachers and other students was horrific. Yelling, cussing, storming out of classrooms was my M.O. In one of my parent teacher conferences, the teacher told my mom that if I kept going like I was, I’d end up in juvie. The town of Ione happened to house one of the worse juvenile dentition facilities in the state, and was a constant reminder of a possible future. That teacher’s statement was almost prophetic.

I graduated from junior high, mostly because they wanted to get rid of me, and I went off to high school, just to continue my same path. It go so bad with my schooling, that I was tested for ADD, and learning disabilities. But the test came back negative; it wasn’t that I couldn’t learn, I didn’t want to. I had the capacity, but not the desire.

So, my parents were at a lost. Nothing worked. No incentive, no consequence, nothing seemed to take me off the path of destruction I was one. And so heading into the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school, I was getting worse not better.

That summer would end up being the beginning of the end of me. That friend I had made in seventh grade; the friend that had invited me to youth group, well we embarked on a summer that I know I haven’t forgotten. We were messing around as we usually did, but this time it was a little different. We’d go hang out at the two schools in our town. They were open campuses, with no fences or gates to get to the play structures. One day, early in the summer we stumbled upon an open door to one of the classrooms. We went in and hung out. No cameras, no security and the place was deserted. That night we came back and stole a computer.

It was the early days of home computers, so neither one of us had a one and this was a quick and easy way to get it. One and done I thought, but no, we’d go back to the school to pick up more computers. Breaking in where the doors were locked. Then we started hitting the other school and what started as a little fun soon ballooned. 

Some of our other friends got involved and by the time the police caught us, we had racked up about $80,000 worth of stole items and property damage. Once the court proceedings were out of the way, my parents took on the financial burden of putting my into a private Christian school ran by the Seventh Day Adventist denomination. My parents were hoping that getting me out of the environment I was in would fix my path. But again, it wasn’t the environment, it was the person. I was the problem, though my grades did improve drastically, my attitude didn’t. I bucked most of the teachers, especially the principle. At one point getting in some trouble and having to do yard work, I used round up to spray a happy face in the lawn outside of the principle’s office.

Yet as I was being a menace, I found that my world was squeezing in on me. Thoughts of suicide, especially after a pretty hard break up with a girl, became constant in my mind. The path I was on was seemingly coming to an end, until it didn’t.

The spring of my sophomore year, my softball tournament sister graduated from college back in North Dakota. My family flew out and rented a car. I had my Disc-man with me, but only one CD. By God’s hand something fell and I put my hand under the front passenger seat and came upon a CD by a Christian artist by the name of Kirk Franklin. Having no alternative, I listened to the CD and God broke me. 

I had heard about God from my Mom and Dad. I had heard about God from that Methodist youth leader. I had heard about God from the Adventist teachers. But now, I had heard from God. The music that God inspired that singer to put on that album was what I needed. The person who left that CD in the car, is the seed that awaited a soil. And on May the 16th of 2000, I gave up my life to Jesus as my Savior. 

On that day, my path changed from death to life; from destruction to restoration. And though I had to leave the Christian school for another, and though I still struggled with sin and the old me that continued to make a comeback, even to this day, my life was shattered on the rock of Jesus. 

From there I attended a college where I met my wife, and was called to occupational ministry. I was led to youth ministry, because I didn’t have anything when I was a youth to at least call me away from my destructive path, and now I am here.

When I look back I can see God’s call many times. He called me through my parents. He called me before I started my most destructive path at that youth group. Then in my sin he kept me from further destruction by the grace that was shown to me by a judge. And I saw his hand in the CD, through which I finally answered his call. 

This is my witness, that a boy who rebelled so much, who hated so much, who left so much pain and suffering behind him, was given grace. Though I was far from God, God was not far from me, and he did not give up on me. There was prayer over me that I never knew. There was grace given to me, that I could not understand. And there were seeds planted that took years to germinate. But I am here, forever in the presence of God my Savior, because he is good, though I am not. 

This is my witness to the overwhelming work of God in my life. A work that I want others to experience. That there is no rebellion that you cannot come back from. That there is no pain that cannot be remedied. That there is no path of destruction that can’t be restored. God work’s miracles and and seeks to restore all those that are willing to turn their eyes to him.

This is my story, this is my song, of praising my Savior, all the day long. 

And this is what we are called to. Not fancy evangelistic rhetoric, or perfectly designed apologetics, but to share our witness to the greatness of God’s grace and saving work in our own lives. I could go on witnessing, telling you of the love God has shown me, or miracles I have seen, or encounters both good and bad that I have experienced. I have many stories in my witness to God’s greatness. The reason for my hope is not that God is the best explanation from the universe, though he is, but that he showed himself to be the best, by transforming a person bound for destruction, into his adopted son. My hope is based on his work in my life and his solid written word. Others may come to God through argument, I came to God through brokenness.

So this is my challenge for you. Recognize and share you witness and the hope you have. Jesus’ call on your life is that you would share his work in you with the world. That you would share his grace and mercy from the grace and mercy that he shared with you.

Your prayers are mighty, don’t stop praying. The seed of your testimony is important don’t stop spreading it. A Bible at a motel, a track left in a bathroom stall, or a CD under a seat, these are the things God uses, don’t think that God can’t use you in the many capacities that he has called you. But know this, it is your witness to the mighty work of God in your life, not human eloquence of argument, that God is asking of you. You were commissioned to share your unique witness to God’s work, and when you do that, seeds are planted and people who were on the wide path to destruction, change paths. I know, because it happened to me and God wants it to happen to others.

If your on that destructive path, this is God’s calling to you, don’t miss it, like I missed it so many times. He loves you, he has a great and prosperous plan for you. A plan to bring his goodness to you, through the forgiveness of sin and rebellion, but you have to come to the end of yourself. Give up into the waiting arms of a Father that loves you and who will never fail you. Amen.