Witness for Christ

When my family moved to Maine, holding on to my faith became an increasingly hard discipline. Even though my family lived in Maine, we usually spent around three months a year in Haiti. However my dad had to keep the wheels of ministry turning in Haiti. He traveled between Haiti and Maine every two weeks. I dreaded every time we visited Haiti. On some visits I even counted down the days until we went home. I couldn’t stand Haiti, the bugs, the heat and I hated being constantly surrounded by the poverty. I never wanted to see that place again.

I became lazy with my faith. I was not even a good witness to my friends at school. I simply Americanized.

One time in my bedroom, I was looking at pictures of Haiti, mostly of mountains and the erosion. On most of the mountains I couldn’t even see a single tree. There were trails of bare rock running down the mountains face. It seemed as if the mountains were crying. Everything was so different from Maine. Our house bordered the Brunswick one hundred acre land reserve. All you could see were trees and more trees. Maine is such a lush and clean environment. Haiti is just the opposite. I thought back to the old days in Haiti, playing with the other missionary kids and Haitian friends.

I promised to serve God as long as I live. I asked myself, “How am I serving God now?” I realized that I was only passively seeking God.

I found new fervor for my faith. I started paying more attention to our pastor’s sermons. The biggest change I made was when I started having daily devotions. Every day I felt renewed and energized.

On a wintry morning a very bad blizzard was raging outside our house. The snowflakes were coming down so bad that I couldn’t see the end of our driveway. The phone rang. I answered and it was our Pastor. He was calling to let us know that church was cancelled because of the snowstorm.

After this I told him about a problem I had, “Pastor, I have a friend at school that I am trying to minister to. It has been going on for a while and I haven’t seen any signs of success.”

My pastor said, “If you want to share God with someone, you will not be effective if you are not an example of a God centered life. Show him what a Christian lifestyle looks like. Be the best friend he’s ever had and I’m sure that when he’s ready, he’ll come to you and he’ll have a lot of questions for you to answer. Pray for him daily. The rest is up to God.

It wasn’t easy. I didn’t tell my pastor that my friend’s Dad was heavy on drugs. Or that he lived in a shanty trailer park with a pretty rough family.

Instead of trying to preach to him, I simply kept being his friend.  If he spent the night on Saturday, I encouraged him to come to church with my family the next morning.

Several times, I felt impatient. It had been going on for weeks with no progress and I asked myself, “Where are my results?”

When he was at my house for a play date, He surprised me when he inquired about my faith. I tried to explain Christianity in a few sentences. Then he shook me to the core when he said, “ I want to be a Christian too!” I was amazed. I managed to say, “Ok.”

There in my bedroom, he got down on his knees. I felt so unprepared for what I was about to do. I told him to repeat these words after me, “I realize that I have sinned. I know that you sent your son to die for us and I am ready to receive you into my Heart. I promise to serve you for the rest of my life.” As he said those words, tears trickled down his cheeks.

At the end of the school year, our paths parted. I felt sad to leave him. For some reason I thought he might backslide into a secular life. I was wrong. Another friend informed me that he was carpooling to church with a new friend and he was already witnessing to other students.

After a life of missionary service, Hudson Taylor said, “I have come to realize that in ministry, nothing is big and nothing is small. What you think may be a small act of ministry could turn out to only be the tip of the iceberg.”

My father’s family left Italy and came to America sometime in the early twentieth century. To put it in a nutshell, we were arrogant ignorant immigrants. We were also ignorant of God. That changed completely when a few ladies from south Boston came to visit my great grandmother, my grandfather George’s mother. They were also Italian and brought some cookies and other little treats. Before they left the house, they gave my great grandmother the Gospel message. She accepted Christ and began attending Church. It wasn’t long before my great grandfather was saved. My grandfather, George didn’t catch on as easily. In his early teens he smoked and was living in the world. Then one night he lay awake in bed and he heard a voice say, “George, you think about so many things. Why don’t you think about God?” That night he accepted Christ and felt a call to the ministry. Even more amazing was the dream he had that night. In his dream, he was preaching in Hell. Then God said, “It is too late for them. Go and minister to those who can still be saved!”

If it weren’t for those old ladies who were faithful to their call who knows if, my family would believe in God?

I have learnt how powerful a witness can be. If you are not already witnessing for Christ, Make the decision now! Focus your efforts on someone that God places on your heart and don’t underestimate the influence you can have in a life!
There was a country preacher in North Carolina. He became frustrated when only one little boy came up to the alter to accept Christ. If only he knew that the little boy would someday grow into the evangelist that we all know as Billy Graham.