1 Samuel 7:12

"Afterward, Samuel took a stone and set it upright between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, explaining, 'The LORD has helped us to this point.'"

Ebenezer means "Stone of Help"

Throughout my life, I have been amazed to see how God has continued to change my heart, to shape my character, and to guide my life even AFTER I gave Him my life.  There are so many moments of growth, and each one becomes an Ebenezer that I can look back on to say, “Thus far has the Lord brought me.”

I became a Christian at a relatively young age.  When I was in the 8^th grade, I read the adult version of the “Left Behind” series by Tim Lahae and Jerry B. Jenkins.  I was alone in my room reading when I realized that I didn’t want to go to hell.  (For those of you who have read the books, I have no idea how a series that rarely mentions hell led me to the conclusion that I was bound for such a place.  I’m sure that the Spirit of the Lord used what I was reading as well as what I was hearing in church at the time to show me my need for a savior.)  It was clear to me that the only way to avoid hell was by allowing Jesus’ sacrifice to cover my sins, so I prayed right then and gave God my life.  Almost immediately, I headed down stairs to call a family meeting.  In my most serious tone, I announced to my parents and siblings, “Some things around here are going to be changing.  I just became a Christian!” Thus far had the Lord brought me.

In all honesty, I had no idea at that moment what I really meant; I just knew that something was different.  Yet God knew my heart that day so much more than I did.  Over the next two years, outside appearances might have led some to believe that I had not really become a Christian that day.  But I have no doubt in my mind that God took me at my word when I said, “I am yours,” and I became His child with that simple prayer of surrender.  I hung out with a group of kids who were into hard drugs, cut themselves, hated their parents, and hung out at the skating rink every Friday night, but God kept me from becoming too immersed in that culture.  By His grace, I continued to attend church and eventually realized that I didn’t hate my parents and that none of my friends were as happy as we all said we were.  I began to sit with a different crowd at lunch, and the spring of my sophomore year I attended the Georgia Christian Youth Convention in Myrtle Beach, SC.  It had been two years since I became a Christian, but at that conference I realized for the first time that God LOVED me.  Though I had accepted His forgiveness and trusted His power to overcome my sin, I had not understood that He chose to save me out of LOVE.  The revelation of God’s love opened new doors in my relationship with Him as I continued to grow.  Thus far had the Lord brought me. 

Despite the fact that I was operating out of obligation rather than love for the first two years of my walk with Christ, there has never been a separation in my mind between my salvation and my service to the Lord.  From the day I first gave my life to Him (in 8^th grade so that I wouldn’t have to go to hell), I knew that it meant that my life would be spent in service to Him.  As I headed for college, I began to sort through what a life of service would look like.  I handed over to God a love of theater and discovered a love for languages.  I became an international business major thinking that it would allow me to learn more languages (it didn’t) and be a wonderful platform for mission work in closed countries.

However, God proved once again that He knows me better than I do when He showed me that my heart for mission work was not nearly as philanthropic as I believed.  Spring semester of my second year at the University of South Carolina, I studied abroad in Spain.  The trip was not quite what I had hoped it would be, and I returned saying, “If God says Spain, I say no!”  I spent the next three years living with fears that I had developed while overseas, including the fear that God would make me go to Spain simply because it was a hard place.  I had once again forgotten that God loved me, and I was certain that He sent His followers to the most difficult places to test and refine them.  Yet He was still at work in my life! 

My three years spent living in fear were one of the most intense times of struggle that I had yet faced. While I trusted God's ability and power, I had again forgotten His mercy and love. As a result, I found myself feeling trapped in my relationship with Him; He was the only one with the power to save, so I HAD to trust Him for salvation, but I had begun to wonder why there was no other option and to be angry that He was my only way to truly have a good/successful/happy life. Sometimes, I found myself enormously frustrated, thinking, “Of course I want to have the best possible life! But You never really gave me a choice about how to go about it!  A real choice would let me have my best life without God!” I was the pot saying to the potter "Why did you make me like this?" (Rom 9:20). "What if I didn't want You? What if I wanted my best life on my own?" I was finally able to vocalize all of this to Him one morning in a discipleship program called GoDisciple that my church hosts, and I realized that this desire was the root of my deepest struggles. Thus far had the Lord brought me.

In His grace, God did not turn me over to the desires of my heart at the moment when I was screaming, “I want something different.”  He has always known my true desires better than I ever could. Instead, through prayer and my time in the Word and with other believers, I realized yet again that I had lost track of the nature of God's love.  I spent time on my face before Him seeking to understand His love more deeply.  I studied God's character and what a life of surrender really meant.  And He showed me mercy and allowed my heart to grow in love for Him.  He restored me to Himself. Thus far had the Lord brought me.

As I had been running from Spain and international missions, I still knew that I would be serving God with my life, so I began to look for a new area of passion.  I had worked with children for as long as I could remember, and I spent some time working in the children’s ministry at my church to see if children’s ministry might be a fit for me.  Through that experience, I ended up in seminary pursuing a degree in Christian education.  It was while in seminary that I participated in GoDisciple and was confronted with my rebellious, prideful heart and God’s good, loving character once again.  Every step in my life has served to bring me closer to Him.  We still have a long way to go together, and even in my current season as an engaged seminary graduate with two part-time jobs that I love, He has continued to refine my heart.  Thus far has the Lord brought me, and I can’t wait to see where else we go.

Here I raise mine Ebenezer;

Hither by Thine help I’m come.

And I hope by Thy good pleasure

Safely to arrive at home!

Megan is a recent graduate of Southeastern Seminary with a Master of Arts in Christian Education.  She is spending this summer preparing to marry a truly wonderful man and working in the Women’s Life Office and as an assistant editor for Treasuring Christ Curriculum.  She is thrilled that her South Carolina Gamecocks are in the College World Series and hopes that they will win it for the third straight year.

 

Something that I have learned being a Hispanic, raised in Miami, is that people love stories. They love to tell them and they love to hear them. I have to admit, my husband, Leonard, is the best storyteller I have ever met in my entire life. He has this incredible ability to tell a story, whether fact or fiction, with impeccable detail and imagery that usually leaves a person begging for more. The only problem is, after knowing my husband for only six short years I have heard every…single…one of his stories at least twenty times each. And, oh how I wish that were an exaggeration. But in his defense, there are a few stories that I wish I could hear him repeat over and over again for the rest of my life. These are usually the stories that focus on salvation, grace and the immense power of the gospel. Those key concepts are the focus of my story and it is a story that I hope my husband and my children wish and hope that I too would share with them for the rest of my life.

From as far back as I can remember I have always been a “daddy’s girl”; therefore it would come as no surprise that when my father suffered a brain aneurism and then a stroke it would change our lives forever. My father survived his aneurism, but soon had to undergo the process of relearning everyday functions, such as walking, talking, reading and writing. His personality was so drastically different to the point that even his laugh had changed. He had become this person that barely resembled the man I grew to know and love. Therefore as my father spent the next few years adjusting to his new life, I spent those same years trying to figure out how to get by without the deep relationship I was longing to have with him. 

Even though my family and I were actively involved in a local Catholic Church I found myself drifting further and further away from God. As more and more time had passed I became bitter and angry with Him as I blamed Him for all that had happened. I began to search for companionship in all the wrong places. I dated as many guys as I possibly could and shut my parents out of my life as much as possible. By the age of fourteen, I had gotten into my first what I would have considered back them to be a “serious relationship” and became sexually active. It was around this time that I began to experience various symptoms of depression. I began to eat less, I continuously felt fatigued, I was constantly getting headaches and having digestive problems, I would sleep excessively, I always wanted to be left alone, and I was overwhelmingly consumed with suicidal thoughts. 

The depression began as sadness and soon grew to grief until it reached utter despair. I couldn’t explain the source because most days I didn’t know where it came from. I remember feeling so consumed with anger and sadness that all I could do was release the pain in any way possible. It was around this time that I began to self-mutilate. It started off small, as simple scratch marks on my arms, but would eventually lead to hundreds of cuts that would cover my legs, arms and torso. 

It was in the middle of my freshman year of high school when my mother took me to my first visit with a psychiatrist. Within a week, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and severe anxiety. And just a few weeks later my first “serious relationship” ended when my boyfriend decided to break things off with me. Just a few weeks later, I attempted suicide. I consumed over fifty capsules of Tylenol mixed with alcohol and just about any other medication I could find in my parents medicine cabinet. As I rested in a hospital bed later that evening I overheard the doctor tell my parents that after everything I consumed that evening there was no reason why I should still be alive. And in my bitterness and rage I found myself asking “Why?! Why am I still alive?!” I then spent the next two weeks in the psychiatric ward at the local children’s hospital where I was diagnosed with clinical depression and was quickly put on medication and given nothing more than mere coping mechanisms. 

Upon returning to school the anxiety began to set in to the point where I could not get through a day without having several panic attacks. Each one began to feel more unbearable than the last. It felt as if someone had cut off my ability to breathe and I was left gasping for just the smallest amount of air. I was told that the medications were meant to help alleviate those feelings, but most days they only increased the symptoms. Needless to say, my depression only worsened as I began to realize that no one could sympathize with the “psycho girl,” which is what I soon became known as at school. So I searched again for love, but yet again in all the wrong places. 

I became more sexually active than I was before and dated several guys, but with each let down I spiraled deeper and deeper into hopelessness. I began taking razor blades to school so that I could cut myself in between classes and I would often come to class with blood seeping through my clothing. About three months after my first suicide attempt, I attempted suicide again when I tried to cut my heart out with a razor blade. It was not long after this that I was admitted yet again to the psychiatric ward. At this point I was more sad than angry. I could not understand why this darkness was not lifting and I felt like no one could see, feel or understand this immense pain. I was longing for attention and desperate for love. 

By the end of freshman year I had started dating someone new. This relationship would last four and a half years and although it was a good relationship, it still did not fill the void of loneliness. For the last three years of high school I still struggled with self-mutilation and depression and I carried these things with me into my college years. In my sophomore year of college my boyfriend ended our relationship and it was almost as if I had gone back to being that lost and broken little fourteen-year-old girl again. The depression and anxiety came back with a vengeance. I was more angry and bitter than I had ever been before. So of course, yet again, I went looking for love in all the wrong places. I dated as many men as I could and just bounced from one relationship to the next hoping to fill the void that so desperately needed to be filled. 

At the age of nineteen I met a man who was different from the rest. His name was Leonard. We met at a college party and became friends instantly. At that point in time, Leonard had only been a Christian for one year, but he was visibly and passionately on fire for the Lord. We began dating and within a few weeks I began attending church with him. Although I was receptive to what I was hearing and learning from the pastor I was not ready to change my lifestyle. I was consumed by my fleshly habits and was afraid to drift away from those parts of my life that had become a source of comfort. I continued to self-mutilate and my depression continued to manifest itself through my words and actions. At a time when most people would have run away out of fear, disgust or confusion, Leonard stayed. Not only did he stay, but as I would find out years later he spent almost every day those first few months of knowing me praying for me and for my salvation. This is why I can say that in that time of helplessness, Leonard was the best earthly representation of Christ that I could have ever encountered. 

I spent the next month and a half struggling to let go of my sin. My self-mutilation had become a source of pleasure and relief, yet every time I sat through a sermon I was burdened by the pangs of conviction. I knew that I needed to let go of those things and put my faith in something steady and strong. It only took two months for the Lord to get a hold of me and shake my heart to the point of confession and repentance. I do not know the exact moment that I was “saved” or the exact time that I put my faith in the Lord, but I do remember the day that I was baptized. When the pastor put me under the water and recited these words: “Buried with Him in baptism, and raised to walk in newness of life.” On that day, something inside of me changed and the Lord began to do a miraculous work in me. By his grace, I spent the next two years consuming and learning from His Word. I became actively involved in our church and was given the opportunity to minister to children and their families. I fell in love with and married the amazing man who demonstrated Christ-likeness to me when most people were too afraid to even try. And I learned how to bow down in reverence to the God who extended his grace and mercy when I least deserved it. I struggled with depression, anxiety and self-mutilation for seven years, but that is nothing compared to the eternity I will spend with my precious Lord and Savior.  

1 John 5:9-13 says, “If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is greater, for this is the testimony of God that he has borne concerning his Son. Whoever believes in the Son of God has the testimony in himself. Whoever does not believe God has made him a liar, because he has not believed in the testimony that God has borne concerning his Son. And this is the testimony, that God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life. I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life.”  

This is the message of my testimony, that through the Son of God I have been given life. We, who were once dead in our sins, can come before the throne of grace in complete humility and receive forgiveness; therefore it is on the saving work of Christ that my story is built. 

The impact of my story has nothing to do with anything that I have done, but everything to do with what God has done through His work on the cross. Therefore my testimony is not merely my story; it is ultimately God’s story. My story is all about Him. He creates. He restores. He redeems. He is the story!

Over the years there have been several times when I have heard the words of that doctor ring in my ear, “There is no reason why she should still be alive.” I understand now why I lived and I believe that part of that reason is happening right now, in this very moment. I believe that I lived in order that I might share my story with all who are willing to hear in order to bring glory and honor to the One who saved me and gave me new life. 

During this season of mediating on this little One in the manger...what Joy did come to the World? Simply, Jesus=Joy. And the Joy of the Gospel is in the answer to this question: Is there anything I have to DO to have eternal life?

Answer:
Jesus + Something = NOTHING
Jesus + Nothing = EVERYTHING

We are all Pharisees at heart. Accepting a message that says "you do nothing" is foreign in a world that says 'give to get'. Unlike any other religion (i.e., including Mormonism, the Prosperity Gospel, and all other pseudo-Christian religions); Christianity is NOT based on works. Actually, this concept is the fundamental truth of the gospel. Jesus paid it all on the cross...therefore, there is nothing left for any of us to do to help with salvation. Praise God! What Joy!

Galatians 2:16 clearly explains that we "know that a man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ...because by observing the law no one will be justified." Paul is proclaiming the fundamental truth of the gospel, "I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained though the law, Christ died for nothing!"


Why would Christ have died for nothing? Without a perfect sacrifice our sins would not be forgiven. We are all wicked sinners, even our righteous acts are like filthy rags before the Holy God (Isaiah 64:6)...so either we pay for our own sins (through eternal death and separation from God) or He takes the penalty for us (by sending Jesus to die in our place). Through Jesus' death, He exchanged our garment of sin--taking on the full wrath of God--and gave us his garment of righteousness; now enabling us to come into God's presence completely forgiven. So bottom line: We did nothing but sin! That's our work and that is all we bring to the gospel...our sin...sinners in need of a Savior!

Titus 2:11-14, 3:4-7 says, "For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope--the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life."

Yet another passage explains, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9).

I could go on and on with passages explaining this FREE gift of God. It's not only in the New Testament but the Old Testament too! God knew from the very beginning in Genesis that he would provide Jesus, our Savior. Do you understand you bring nothing to God? Does it hurt our pride that God needs nothing from us? Praise God, that he does what is best for us and not what we want...or we would be lost and on the road to Hell. Thank you Jesus for paying it ALL of the cross! Thank you for filing us with true joy.


K.J. Nally is a writer, teacher, and counselor. She is pursuing her master’s degree in Biblical Counseling, concentrating in women's ministry from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. K.J. and her husband, Dustin, have a passion to fight for Godly marriages, spur on teens to seek purity, and encourage men and women to live obediently to their Creator God.

K.J. and Dustin are marriage and individual counselors at Hope Counseling Center through their church, North Wake. They also work with Converting Hearts Ministries,’ a Christ-centered addictions ministry.

K.J. is also a freelance journalist. Check out more about Christian Living at K.J.’s blog, Answers of Truth.

Every day I am reminded to be joyful, reminded by Scripture, my husband, the people around me, and my precious (I’m a little biased) baby girl. Life has drastically changed since adding HG to our family.  I worry a lot.  I get stressed out about things that I would have never even thought to stress out about a few months ago.  My days are full of changing diapers, feeding, and cleaning. At times it’s hard to find joy with my monotonous routine. 

The Lord is gently reminding me that joy is not something I produce, but comes from Him. It is the joy that I have through Christ that overflows into my own life. Looking back at the first month of HG’s life, I see how the Lord has provided a joyful heart for me even when I didn’t realize it. You see, when a baby is crying wailing throughout the night and you have done everything in your power to comfort her, you do not have joy. There is no way you can produce any kind of joy at 2 a.m. after a week of sleepless nights. It is at those breaking points that I have to ask the Lord to provide me with a joyful heart. I want to be patient and love my newborn well, but my selfish heart fights being joyful in those times.

I can distinctly remember one night where I was up with HG, and we were both crying and having trouble with feeding. I remember holding her to my chest and telling her the story of Jesus. I started from Genesis and went through the promise of Jesus returning one day. There was stillness. No crying (from her or me), just a peace. In that moment I was greatly reminded of the joy that Jesus brings us, and of the hope that He gives to me, a lowly sinner, every day. A rush of emotions hit me, possibly some from post-pregnancy wacked up hormones, but the emotion of thankfulness of the Gospel hit me so hard that tears began to fall down my face. 

In Jerry Bridges book, The Discipline of Grace, he talks about how we must preach the Gospel to ourselves daily, not just on Sundays and at small group, but daily. When we wake up in the morning, change diapers, study for a test, cook dinner, and finally lay our heads down at night, we should mediate on the Gospel. Preaching the gospel to ourselves daily reminds us of the joy that we have in Christ. I pray that I would preach the Gospel to myself daily, because goodness gracious I need it! 

Joyful reminders hit me from all over; from a little smiling face, to my wonderful husband, to our supportive family and friends, but most importantly, from the Gospel.  

Laura and her husband L moved to Wake Forest in May 2010.  Once they arrived at SEBTS, God directed their hearts to overseas missions.  L and Laura are in the 2+2 program and will be deploying in 2013.  This past September they welcomed HG to their family.  Laura is a member of The Summit and works part-time in the Women’s Life Office.

Reblogged from Radical Womenhood
by Carolyn McCulley
April 6, 2007

A good friend of mine is undergoing serious surgery today, and I am understandably distracted in my concern for her. She is the subject of many prayers as she is deeply loved by many.

Her suffering is inexplicable in many ways, but I can testify that God has been using it. One of the most obvious fruits in her life is that she is not identified by her suffering, but rather by her passion for Christ. In fact, sometimes I have to remind myself that she is indeed seriously sick for she does not wear her illness as a badge.

We are praying to One who has known far more suffering and injustice. Jesus suffered incredible physical torture while being flogged and hung on the cross, nailed through fragile appendages and left to suffocate by the weight of His own body. But that must have paled in comparison to bearing the just punishment from the Father for the sins of those He came to save. The cross is the answer to that question we whisper in the dark night of the soul--"Why, God?" The cross is our justice for the grievous ways we've been sinned against, for God is not an unjust God. Sin will be punished: either it will be visited upon a Savior who was our sinless substitute, or it will be visited upon those who committed the sin.

Since we have all sinned and fall short of God's perfect standard, the cross is our glorious and divine rescue. What we could not atone for on our own has been paid for by our Lord Jesus Christ, for those who repent and trust Him for this awesome gift. Because mercy triumphs at the cross, it is also our greatest hope--especially in times of great trials or suffering.

That is my attempt to articulate the reason we celebrate Good Friday and why my friend can be joyful in the midst of tremendous suffering. But I've never found a more heart-wrenching portrait than that found in When God Weeps by Joni Eareckson Tada and Steven Estes. The first time I heard these words, they were read aloud in a sermon by my pastor, C.J. Mahaney. No one was dry-eyed by the end. It is a powerful recounting of what Scripture teaches us. For those of you who know the profound truth of this scene, may you rejoice in what has been done on your behalf. And if you are suffering, may this account refresh your faith. If, however, you have not yet put your trust in this divine exchange and repented of the sins that separate you from God, I pray that the Lord will open your eyes and heart, just as He did unexpectedly for me one Easter several years ago.

The Savior was now thrown to men quite different from the eleven. The face that Moses had begged to see--was forbidden to see--was slapped bloody (Exodus 33:19-20). The thorns that God had sent to curse the earth's rebellion now twisted around his own brow. His back, buttocks, and the rear of his legs felt the whip--soon they looked like the plowed Judean fields outside the city. . . .

"On your back with you!" One raises a mallet to sink in the spike. But the soldier's heart must continue pumping as he readies the prisoner's wrist. Someone must sustain the soldier's life minute by minute, for no man has this power on his own. Who supplies breath to his lungs? Who gives energy to his cells? Who holds his molecules together? Only by the Son do "all things hold together" (Colossians 1:17). The victim wills that the soldier live on--he grants the warrior's continued existence. The man swings. . . .

But these pains are a mere warm-up to his other and growing dread. He begins to feel a foreign sensation. Somewhere during this day an unearthly foul odor began to waft, not around his nose, but his heart. He feels dirty. Human wickedness starts to crawl upon his spotless being--the living excrement from our souls. The apple of his Father's eye turns brown with rot.

His Father! He must face his Father like this!
From heaven the Father now rouses himself like a lion disturbed, shakes his mane, and roars against the shriveling remnant of a man hanging on a cross. Never has the Son seen the Father look at him so, never felt even the least of his hot breath. But the roar shakes the unseen world and darkens the visible sky. The Son does not recognize these eyes.

"Son of Man! Why have you behaved so? You have cheated, lusted, stolen, gossiped--murdered, envied, hated, lied. You have cursed, robbed, overspent, overeaten--fornicated, disobeyed, embezzled, and blasphemed. Oh, the duties you have shirked, the children you have abandoned! Who has ever so ignored the poor, so played the coward, so belittled my name? Have you ever held your razor tongue? What a self-righteous, pitiful drunk--you, who molest young boys, peddle killer drugs, travel in cliques, and mock your parents. Who gave you the boldness to rig elections, foment revolutions, torture animals, and worship demons? Does the list never end! Splitting families, raping virgins, acting smugly, playing the pimp--buying politicians, practicing extortion, filming pornography, accepting bribes. You have burned down buildings, perfected terrorist tactics, founded false religions, traded in slaves--relishing each morsel and bragging about it all. I hate, I loathe these things in you! Disgust for everything about you consumes me! Can you not feel my wrath?"

The Father watches as his heart's treasure, the mirror-image of himself, sinks drowning into raw, liquid sin. Jehovah's stored rage against humankind from every century explodes in a single direction.

"Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?!"

But heaven stops its ears. The Son stares up at the One who cannot, who will not, reach down or reply. Two eternal hearts tear--their intimate friendship shaken to the depths.
The Trinity had planned it. The Son endured it. The Spirit enabled him. The Father rejected the Son whom he loved. Jesus, the God-man from Nazareth, perished. The Father accepted his sacrifice for sin and was satisfied. The Rescue was accomplished. . .

This is who asks us to trust him when he calls on us to suffer.