Why yes, I am actually writing something for once . . .
Life has been crazy busy. I'm graduating this year, so amongst the books and books I have yet to read before June, I've been working on the graduates' reception at Church, organizing senior pictures (which I am VERY excited to be taking on Saturday), and doing my other normal duties that are Church-related . . . . <sigh> I'm so busy . . .
ANYWAY, that's not what I came to write about. I came to write tonight because tonight while I was sitting in prayer service, I was reminded of something.
It's Passion week. Last Sunday was Palm Sunday, the day we celebrate Christ's entry into Jerusalem. Friday is Good Friday, the day we remember Christ's execution . . . and Sunday is Easter -- the day we rejoice because Christ lives again.
This Sunday, two of our church choirs (we have three), a pianist, and, I've heard, a small orchestra are presenting a cantata written by one of my friends. I've written about it before on here; in fact, my last post told a testimony I had in correlation with The Shepherd's Voice.
But that's not what I came to talk about today.
I came to talk about my very first testimony.
You see, I was born to good parents. They taught me well and I was baptized a month and a half after I turned eight years old (you have to be at least eight to be baptized in our Church). I believed . . . but I had never truly had a testimony.
Well, there I was, eleven years old, and it was springtime. I remember it seemed like months that we practiced this cantata, working to perfect our offering to the Master. I knew it was going to be an amazing thing, because every time we sang it, I felt the Spirit in an amazing abundance, each time greater than before. Many times after rehearsal, I was reduced to tears because of the outpouring of the Spirit.
I remember it almost like it was yesterday -- April 8th, 2012. The adults were standing in the choir loft, and the children were standing on the stage in front of them. A friend was playing the piano and we watched the choir director carefully. The first several songs of the cantata were nice, lovely even, and the Spirit came in great abundance, but I had no idea what I was in store for.
At last the finale came, and we sang the words I have come to love so much since then: "Feed My lambs, feed My lambs; if ye love me, feed My lambs . . ." The Spirit was SO strong that my two best friends and I were holding hands. All at once tears sprung to my eyes and I began to bawl.
Standing there on that stage, looking out at the congregation, the Spirit engulfed me such as I had never felt before. It was so strong that I felt as if it would knock me over.
There were angels in the congregation, encircling us and singing with us.
I cried and cried and cried for what seemed like ages, and then the song ended and we sat down. I don't recall much after that, except for when the choirs congregated in the choir room after the service. I ran up to my two best friends immediately and said joyfully, "There were angels there!"
I'll never forget what they said as they looked me straight in the eyes.
"We saw them!"
Upon comparing testimonies, I know ours were the same. They saw silhouettes of angels, encircling the congregation, and I felt their presence. That was the first of many experiences I have had with angels . . . and it is the reason I know Jesus Christ is my Redeemer. Up until that point I had accepted the Gospel on faith. After that point, I accepted it because I knew angels were real -- and if angels were real, God had to be too -- and if God was real, then so was Jesus Christ.
Every time I hear those beloved words, "Feed My lambs", I think of this experience. It is my conversion testimony, though I have had countless since. For nearly five years I prayed to hear the angels sing -- not to just know they sang, but to hear them -- and a few months ago I did hear them sing. But, that is a testimony for another day . . .
-- Grace
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