Home
Articles & Stories
Media
Store
Contests
yOur Backyard Magazine
Workshops & Classes
Services
Contact Us

yOur Backyard

Home
Articles & Stories
Media
Store
Contests
yOur Backyard Magazine
Workshops & Classes
Services
Contact Us

yOur Backyard

Cookbook Creation Class

Date To Be Announced

From Fear to Faith…

shELAH*

God’s out to get me…

Years ago, while sitting on Death Row in Riverbend Maximum Security Institute, with six men convicted of murder, I smiled. I suddenly realized, I’m not afraid.

With that revelation, inside that small concrete-walled classroom, I breathed a prayer of thanks.

Dear Heavenly Father, I’m not sure how You did that for me, but Thank You.

Thank You for changing me from a little girl too frightened to look someone else in the eyes…, from someone full of fear, thinking that for every time I sinned,

You were “out to get me” and send me to Hell. Thank You for saving me…, For taking away my fears. For making me Your child, for being “out to get me… in Your grace and love.”

Before my legally blind, Pentecostal mother came to the place in her life where she realized that God did not send Jesus into the world to condemn us (John 3:17), she would sometimes threaten me with:

If you wear lipstick, you’re going to Hell.
If you wear shorts, you’re going to Hell,
If you go to a movie, you’re going to Hell.

In response to Mother’s sincere, yet unbiblical threats, I sometimes sneaked away from home and painted my lips like she suggested Jezebel might have done. At that time, I did not see God as so loving. Although fearful, several times when at my only

friend’s house [I only had one], I changed from my hand-me-down dress into shorts. Once before I left home at the age of 17, I even watched a movie.

The fear of what might happen next, however, relentlessly tormented me. For years, before Mother divorced my alcoholic father, the bad things I feared, happened over and over and over. Inside the temporary places we called “home,” the devil in the bottle regularly turned my dad into a violent man whom police often escorted to jail.

Outside home, more often than not, when someone spoke to me, I lowered my eyes, unable to communicate.

At the age of 9, I sporadically attended church. One Sunday night, I remember that when the preacher talked about what the Roman soldiers did to Jesus before they crucified Him, I tried to hold back the tears that trickled down my cheeks. When scourging or flogging people, soldiers used a whip with bits of lead and stone intwined into it.

Soldiers whipped Jesus’ back to shreds, yet He prayed, “Father, forgive them….”

As I listened, I could not wipe away the salty tears that kept flooding my face.

“Jesus willingly suffered that horrific death on the cross for you and me,” the preacher said, “so that we may have eternal life. Jesus loves you and willingly gave His life to pay the penalty for your sins. If you only trust Him, He will save you.

I remember that night as I knelt at the altar and prayed, “Jesus, save me,” I felt such a sweet peace. I smiled through my tears.

Two years later, after Mother and Dad divorced, God used Mother to force me and my three younger siblings to walk several miles to church not only on Sunday mornings, but also on Sunday nights. When we met in groups, teachers in church would challenge us to memorize Bible verses. We even had to attend Wednesday night services and listen to that preacher read and preach from the Bible.

But then, we stopped going to church.

I did not start attending church regularly again until years later when I married Jim. Like my mother had done to me, I forced our children to go to church. Sunday mornings; Sunday nights; Wednesday Nights; Revivals; Youth groups; Summer Camps. In time, Randall, Dawn, Daniel, and Donna asked Jesus to save them.

He did.

Jesus also continued to work in me to increase my faith and hope as Philippians 1:6 promises, “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ….”

While teaching a writing class that day years ago on Death Row, I not only realized, I’m not afraid, I got to share Words of Life from the Bible.

Then and now, in my day-to-day life, I get to do as 1 Peter 3:15, encourages, to “be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.”

Writing my own and other people’s faith experiences. sharing hope in Jesus gives me opportunities to communicate the good news to some who may not yet know:

Jesus loves you.

When you trust Him,

He will save you and change your life.

You can trust Jesus.

He never fails.

Thank you for sponsoring Checkpoints. In each weekly column, we “get to” tell others, that in His grace and love, our Heavenly Father sent Jesus to save us; to free us from fear. Jesus, the reason for the hope in us, gives us eternal life not only one day in Heaven…, but here on Earth—right now.

If you or someone you know ever thinks like I used to… that God’s out to get you…, please reassure them, it’s true.

*If you would share the reason for the “hope that is in you,” or an experience to encourage others to trust Jesus, please email me: shELAH911@gmail.com or use our contact form.

Log out