My friend, Judith Emmons, honors us by sharing her testimony of God’s blessing of salvation and a fulfilling life because of Jesus and His sacrifice:
Part One: The Catholic Years
I was born on a Catholic Holy Day, in Saint Joseph Catholic Hospital in Houston. Within a few weeks, I was baptized in the Catholic Church with the sprinkling of water and the muttering of prayers. In that one fateful ceremony, to which I was totally oblivious, I supposedly attained my ticket to heaven, my fire insurance, and my salvation. Thus concludes my testimony – except that life went on.
Since my father was not Catholic, it was up to my mother to assure her four children would be faithful Catholics. She bought us Bibles and stored them away so they would not get dirty. Mine still has its pure white cover and pristine pages. Throughout twelve years of Catholic school, we were taught that a blond-haired, blue-eyed Hebrew baby, born in the snowy desert, grew up to establish the Catholic Church. Then the popes took over. It was the unnerving nuns in black, glaring down at us little kids in brown and white school uniforms, who put the fear of God in us. They warned us about wretched sins like eating meat on Friday and missing Mass on Sunday. We religiously complied, at least until other popes declared that these were no longer sins.
One exceptional school year – yes, only one out of twelve – we set aside our boring catechism rule books to study the Bible. I loved it. I eagerly embraced every Scripture, every story, every day. As far back as I could remember, I believed in God. Conversely, as far back as I could remember, I had serious doubts about the Catholic Church. I never dared to question the nuns or even my mother. Instead, I grew up passively going along with the endless rituals of Catholicism.
Part Two: The Critical College Years
My parents and teachers just expected me to enroll in college. But it was my older sister who truly motivated me. I had to prove to her that I was not as stupid as she told me I was. So, at the age of 18, I left home and vowed I would never move back to Houston.
I left behind a school where everyone seemed to look, think, and act alike. I entered the weirdly wonderful world of the University of Texas in Austin. From the spacey hippies to the angry activists, from the Viet Nam war protesters to the naïve nobodies like me, my forty thousand classmates and I had one thing in common: We all needed the Lord.
One weekend, I attended a campus lecture on Middle Eastern events. I was looking forward to following up on Israel’s Six Day War, which I had watched unfold on TV only a few years before. Instead, I was awe-struck as evangelist Josh McDowell reframed network news from the perspective of Biblical prophecy. I began to grasp God’s cohesive, comprehensive design for the world. As a college student, I figured an objective intellectual pursuit of God would suffice.
Josh McDowell returned to UT to detail how the prophesies of a thousand years all came together in one Messiah. I soon found myself mingling with students who talked about Jesus as if they knew Him personally. They believed God had a plan for each individual, as well as the whole world. That plan was rooted in a loving relationship. I had heard much about the wrath of God, but not the love of God.
In fact, I had grown up picturing God like some blurry, sky-high version of the stony Lincoln Memorial. I figured if I just stayed out of trouble and under His cosmic radar, I’d get by. A personal relationship with Jesus was never a part of the picture. As it turned out, I had to admit I was the one with the stony heart. In the quiet of my dorm room, I pondered the Christian tracts I had been given. I gradually embraced the love of God.
Once that divine relationship replaced religion, Jesus became an increasingly important part of my daily life. I was still basically the same self-centered people-pleaser I had always been, but I felt my life inching toward change.
Part Three: The Years of Careers
After graduation, I focused on building a career, often to the exclusion of more important endeavors like serving God and developing godly relationships. Looking back, I know His mighty hand was gently guiding me in remarkable ways. He even prepared me for professional positions that didn’t exist when I started college. Then again, when I look back at my own misplaced priorities and messed up relationships, I am touched by God’s mercy and grace.
It took my mother’s passing to bring me back to Houston. It was an easy move. I settled into a good job. I had a meaningful ministry interpreting for the Deaf in a large church. My niece and father were saved through that church’s outreach. I was grounded in the Lord. Exactly one year from the day my dad passed away, my beloved pastor went to heaven. Through the years, my family has welcomed babies and said final farewells to loved ones. I have been blessed with friends like you who have become like family.
One would think that after so many decades on this earth, I would have my life straightened out by now. At least I have learned this: Jesus really does love us, and there is more to this life than this life. The best is yet to be.
Judith Emmons
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