Category Archives: Testimony

Oh Amazing, Effectual Grace

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I was 15 years old and a fairly new Christian in Chester, England. My father had just started a Church that was meeting in our home, and though growing, did not have any young people my age.

I loved the Sunday services taking place in the home, and yet, I had to admit, also craved fellowship with Christians my own age. I was seemingly the lone Christian in my class at High School and though I often shared the gospel with people, I sometimes felt the barrage as my school friends raised their objections. I felt the need to hang out with young people who shared my new faith in Christ. I managed to find a group of like minded people about 14 miles away in a little village called Little Neston.

After gaining permission from my parents, once a week I got on my bicycle and cycled to Little Neston to attend the group. Led by a wonderful Christian High School teacher named Mark Thomas, the group was hungry for God. As I recall, the group did not engage in the normal outside activities youth groups do. We just pursued God, wanting to know Him and His word more deeply.

Mark would prepare and lead us in Bible studies and would play his guitar as we worshipped the Lord, while others took turns on the only organ in the room, or percussion instruments that were always near at hand. The group was made up of young people from a number of churches in the area, but we all just dropped our denominational tags at the door, so to speak. All who came just wanted God. Once a month, our gatherings became all night prayer meetings (usually on a Friday night because there was no school the next day).

In one such gathering, a second adult couple came. The husband was an itinerant Methodist minister and the wife was an accomplished pianist (if I remember correctly).

Something unusual took place that night. In one of the times of silence as we were waiting on the Lord, the wife singled me out and said, “John, I am not going to say this is a word from God or anything, but as I was praying, a picture came to my mind about you…” I was a little taken aback. I had not met the lady before and did not know what to make of it. Apparantly, this was a one off for this lady too – she was not known to share anything of this kind.

She went on, “John, in my mind I saw a picture of a honeycomb – and over it was the word “Grace.”” She said, “I believe God is going to make you a preacher, known for grace. There will be intense opposition from people at times. Some will cover their ears not wishing to hear the gracious words that flow from your lips; while others will find in your words, some of the most grace filled words in God’s vineyard. God is going to use you mightily as one of His chosen vessels.”

Mark turned to me and said, “John, that is a very powerful picture. My advice to you is to just leave it with the Lord, and if it is something from Him, He will bring it to pass. Don’t worry about it. If it does not mean much to you now, perhaps it will one day.” Looking back, I think Mark gave me some very sound advice.

This meeting took place in the early 1980’s and to be honest, I completely forgot about it… that is, until one day recently. I was looking at the blog comments here and noticed words of thanks and appreciation and also comments filled with hostility and anger; people excited to read an article I’d written or hear a sermon I had preached, as well as people who had the exact opposite reaction. Then I looked at the top of the blog and noticed the words, “Effectual Grace.”

Then it hit me! The little picture this lady had 30 years before was being fulfilled right before my eyes. I felt peace flood my soul. I also felt that God was encouraging me that I was right in the purposes of God, right on track, being a voice for Him in sharing from the honeycomb, the honey being the message of the gospel of the grace of God in Jesus Christ.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I prayed, “Thank You God for lavishing me with such grace that You would choose me to be Your child, and to speak to others of Your great triumphant and effectual grace. How I love You Lord! Oh Amazing, Effectual Grace!”

Amazed By Common Grace

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Common Grace. It is a term used in theology to describe the grace God gives to every living person on planet earth. It is called “common, but because everyone alive gets it.

Grace by definition can never be demanded. God gives grace, not because He has to, but because He decides to. The scripture says that God “makes His sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5:45).

How gracious this is of God. God doesn’t discriminate against the non-Christian in sending His rain, but gives it freely to saint and sinner alike. That should amaze us. It should take our breath away in fact. Yet the concept of common grace doesn’t usually do that for us. We’re very much accustomed to it, because it is so common, but we must always remember that God is exceedingly gracious in dispensing this kind of grace on people. The point being, He in no way has to.

Through the use of a short story, I’d like to give you a glimpse into why common grace should amaze us.

The story concerns a young Christian lady of 18 years of age in York, England. Born in Malta, of Irish parents, she was engaged to be married to a bright young man in the British military. The plan was that after the war was over, they would both serve the Lord as missionaries together, wherever He would lead them to go.

Sent over to France on D-Day, June 6, 1944, the young man was thrust into the battle for the city of Caen in Normandy, France. Tragically, just weeks afterward, on July 10, 1944, he was killed by one of the enemies’ bullets.

On hearing the news of her fiance’s death, the young lady was obviously devastated. Grief filled her heart. In attending church services in York, for the next several months she would hear dramatic testimonies of Divine protection, as loved ones returned back home recounting the stories. All of these returning soldiers were protected from imminent danger. Many of these soldiers were extremely conscious of the Lord’s direct intervention in keeping them alive, and yet, the young lady had to live on knowing that the man she loved was not coming home. Continue reading →

O Lord, give me poverty of spirit

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“O Lord, make me poor in spirit.” That’s not a prayer I have heard uttered in a long, long time. That is a sad fact. What is even more sad and to my shame is the fact that it is not a prayer I have heard myself pray in quite some time. That’s because poverty of spirit is quite possibly the underlying root cause difference between the Christian whose life is marked by seeking God and the prayerless saint. To be poor in spirit is to recognize utter and complete dependance upon the Lord. It is to say “Lord, I am nothing without You and I need You desperately.”

In our culture, to be independent is a virtue. Yet in the kingdom of God, the more we are aware of our need of God, the more our spiritual life can grow.

I believe poverty of spirit has two major components to it. First of all there is a recognition of the seriousness and vile nature of sin. John Wesley described it in the following way, “He has a deep sense of the loathsome leprosy of sin which he brought with him from his mother’s womb, which overspreads his whole soul, and totally corrupts every power and faculty thereof.”

The second component is this attribute of dependence upon God. Kent Hughes writes, “Just as no one can come to Christ without poverty of spirit, no one can continue to grow apart from an ongoing poverty of spirit. Poverty of spirit is foundational because a continual sense of spiritual need is the basis for ongoing spiritual blessing. A perpetual awareness of our spiritual insufficiency opens us to continually receiving spiritual riches. Poverty of spirit is something we never outgrow. In fact, the more spiritually mature we become, the more profound will be our sense of poverty.” (The Sermon on the Mount [Crossway, 2001], 22)

As you read these words today, join me in asking God for this poverty of spirit, to rid the heart of human pride and to realize the depth of our need of Him. There is no merit in praying such a prayer for this is merely a recognition of reality. We need Him more than we realise. Understanding this is foundational for life in the kingdom of God. Indeed, it is the first of the Beattitudes, for Jesus “opened his mouth and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven…” (Matt 5:3)

This poverty of spirit is illustrated in this testimony here: From a 2008 interview with Bob Kauflin, published in The Power of Words and the Wonder of God (pp. 149-151). Hopefully, most of us will not have to go to such low depths to discover just how much we need Him:

I helped plant a church in Charlotte, North Carolina, in 1991. I began to feel increasing anxiety at different times when we first planted the church. Then in January of 1994 my wife and I were at a couple’s house for dinner, and I cracked. My life fell apart. Mentally I had no connection with what I was doing, no connection with the past, no connection with the future. I didn’t know why I existed. These were the thoughts that went through my brain. That began a period of maybe three years where I battled constant hopelessness. I would wake up each morning with this thought: “Your life is completely hopeless,” and then I would go from there. It was a struggle just to make it through to each step of the day. The way I made it through was just to think, What am I going to do next? What will I do? I can make it to there.

It was characterized by panic attacks. For the first six months I battled thoughts of death. I’d think about an event that was three months away: Why am I thinking about that? I’m going to be dead by then. I had feelings of tightness in my chest, buzzing and itching on my arms, buzzing on my face. It was a horrible time. And in the midst of that I cried out to God, and I certainly talked to the pastor that I served with and other pastors that I knew—good friends—trying to figure out what in the world was going on with my life.

Five or six children at that time, a fruitful life, a fruitful ministry. And this is what I discovered: although I’d been a Christian for twenty-two years (since 1972) I was driven by a desire to be praised by men. And I wasn’t succeeding. When you plant a church, you find out that there are a lot of people who don’t agree with you. People who came to plant the church left. All of that assaulted my craving to be admired and praised and loved and worshiped and adored and applauded. God, I believe, just took his hand from me and said, “Okay, you handle this your way.” I knew the gospel, but what I didn’t know was how great a sinner I was. I thought the gospel I needed was for pretty good people, and that wasn’t sufficient to spare me from the utter hopelessness I felt during that time.

I would read Scripture. It didn’t make sense to me. It didn’t affect me. I remember lying at bed at times just reciting the Lord’s Prayer to myself over and over and over, hoping that would help. I couldn’t sleep; then at times all I wanted to do was sleep. I remember saying this early on: “God, if you keep me like this for the rest of my life but it means that I will know you better, then keep me like this.” That was the hardest prayer I’ve ever prayed.

During that time I read an abridged version of John Owen’s Sin and Temptation and Jerry Bridges’s The Discipline of Grace.

About a year into the process I talked to a good friend, Gary Ricucci, whom I am now in a small group with at Covenant Life Church. I said, “Gary, I feel hopeless all the time.”

He said, “You know, Bob? I think your problem is that you don’t feel hopeless enough.”

I don’t know what I looked like on the outside, but on the inside I was saying, “You are crazy. You are crazy. I feel hopeless.”

He said, “No, if you were hopeless, you would stop trusting in yourself and rely completely on what Jesus Christ accomplished for you.”

That was the beginning of the way out. And I remember saying to myself literally hundreds of times—every time these feelings of hopelessness and panic and a desire to ball up in a fetal position would come on me—“I feel completely hopeless because I am hopeless, but Jesus Christ died for hopeless people, and I’m one of them.”

Over time I began to believe that. And today when I tell people that Jesus is a great Savior, I believe it, because I know that he saved me. That’s where my joy comes from. My joy comes from knowing that at the very bottom, at the very pit of who I am, it is blackness and sin, but the love and grace of Jesus goes deeper.