My Testimony:
MY Heritage
Both of my parents came from Christian homes. My father accepted Christ as a young boy and surrendered to special service as an early teen. Mother made a public profession as a child however according to her testimony; she was not genuinely saved until after World War II. They were married just before Daddys induction into the army.
During the war years, Mama wasted her life seeking popularity and glamour as a nightclub singer. She was about to sign a contract for a national label when she received a telegram from Daddy that he was on his way home from Europe. It was not until about three years later that she accepted Christ as her personal Savior.
Shortly after her conversion, my brother was born in a small town in northwestern Oklahoma. God was continuing to work in their hearts, and in 1949, the young family moved to Dallas, Texas to attend Dallas Bible Institute. On July 22, 1950, at 11:50 A.M., I saw my first light of day. Within the week I moved into the little travel trailer that my family called home for the first few years of my life.
Daddy left Dallas Bible Institute because of lack of funds. On the trip back to northwestern Oklahoma the wheel came off the little travel trailer, going through the floor and destroying our little home on wheels. As a result, the family moved in with my maternal grandmother while making repairs to the trailer. Soon we were able to move to a community in central Oklahoma where God had provided a 5-acre tract of land. By hand, Mama and Daddy chopped and cut the right-of-way so that OG&E would bring electricity to the area. They cut down trees and made a driveway to bring in the trailer. They drilled a well and built an outhouse. Then Daddy obtained some used lumber from a nearby Air Force Base and built a room onto the trailer. They used heavy cardboard to cover the inside walls and covered the outside with tarpaper to keep the moisture out. We lived in that home until we were finally able to move into a small shotgun barrel house nearby. A shotgun barrel house was an oil field line shack. It was three rooms in a row, with the doors lined up. One could stand at the front door with a shotgun and shoot without hitting a thing if the doors were all open.
It was in this little house that I found the Lord as my personal Savior. Though Daddy was not yet a preacher, he had helped organize a church in a little dirt floor garage. All my life I can remember that my folks talked about Jesus and His love. At Christmas, my parents never talked about Santa, but about God loving them so much that He sent His Son. At Easter, we did not hunt eggs; we talked about how Jesus had died for mans sin and risen from the grave. We enjoyed Bible stories every night and sang praises to the Lord as Daddy drove down the road. I learned more of the old time choruses and the Gospel of Jesus Christ in those days than I will ever be able to teach others. My parents continually saturated my life with the love of the Lord. My conversion experience at the age of four grew out of that saturation.
Conversion Experience
In the fall of 1954, there was a revival at the little garage church. There was a lady that was always prim and proper. She never had a hair out of place. She never showed any inappropriate behavior. She had prayed for her husband for many years, hoping that he would be saved. On Thursday night, her husband came to the revival and was saved. She jumped up and grabbed a broom from the corner of the garage. She began vigorously sweeping the floor and fogged the air with dust.
That night after the services Mama was getting me ready for bed. I said, Mamma, Ive got to be saved tonight.
She thought he was trying to keep from going to bed. She said, Now John, lets go on to bed, and we will talk about this first thing in the morning.
I responded, No Mama, I need to be saved tonight.
She countered, Now John it is way past your bedtime. You go on to bed and we will talk about this tomorrow.
I asked, But didnt the preacher say tonight, if someone died without Jesus hed be punished?
Mama was shocked that I had heard this. After all, I had been scribbling in the hymnbook. She replied, Yes, he did.
To which I said, Well, if I die tonight and get punished it will be your fault.
In shock she said, Go talk to your father!
I went into the middle room of that little house and told my father what was on my heart. Daddy asked if I knew what sin was and I said, Anything that doesnt make Jesus happy.
He then asked if there was anything like that in my life and the response was Yes. When I dont do what Mama or you tell me to do, that makes Jesus unhappy.
Daddy said, Well, what do you think you need to do about that?
I need to ask Jesus to forgive me. I said.
We knelt beside that old bed and I asked Jesus to come into my heart. Since that day, there has been an assurance of hope and security in my life even in the midst of the storm of depression. This event has been a clear and present memory throughout my life.
