Captured By Christ. . . Part 1 of 3

Taken verbatim from Pages 26-29 in James Robison’s book “Living Amazed.” and then, in Part Two followed by 15 paragraphs quoting from an article from theyeoftheneedle.com from Archbishop Vigano, before in Part Three, my personal comments.  But first the story, then onto real life today!

During my years in Austin, TX, I didn’t have much money or many material things, but I made the best of what I had. I did look forward to Christmas gifts and birthday presents from my aunt and my foster parents. But starting when I turned nine, all the way up until I was fourteen, I didn’t hear from my aunt or the Hales at all. That was very traumatic for me – and, if not for the grace of God, it might have destroyed me – because I thought that the people who had said they loved me had forgotten me.

                One October, when my birthday came and I didn’t get gifts from anybody, I remember thinking, Anybody can forget a birthday, but they won’t forget me at Christmas.

                That December, I painted a watercolor picture on a sheet of paper and hung it on the wall, and that was our Christmas tree and our decorations, because we couldn’t afford to buy a tree or ornaments. When Christmas arrived, and nothing came from my aunt or the Hales, I remembered thinking, They said they loved me, but they don’t.

                That really put a big hole in my heart, made me feel as if I couldn’t trust anyone, and caused me to doubt people’s word. Even after I got into ministry, only the grace of God was able to lift me beyond the trauma of feeling forgotten.

                When I was about fourteen, during a time when my mother was having some sort of trouble, she told me I could call the Hales and go stay with them for a week or so. I was afraid to call them, because I didn’t know if they’d want me. But they sounded so happy to hear from me and said they would come get me the very next day.

                During that visit with the Hales, I had a lot of fun with the kids at their church. On Sunday night, which was right before the Monday or Tuesday when I would be going home, Pastor Hale asked the young people in the church to share what Jesus meant to them. Five or six kids stood up and gave testimonies that were really moving.

                Then Pastor Hale gave the invitation, and when he said, “Would you come and put your hand in my hand, indicating that you want to give your life to the same Jesus that these kids have talked about?” all I could do was grip the chair in front of me. I was so shy, and so terrified, that I just hung on.

                Then I saw Mrs. Hale walking toward me, with tears flowing so freely down her face that she had to hold her glasses in place with one hand. She put her other hand on my shoulder and said, “James, don’t you want to go to Jesus?”

I said, “Yes, ma’am, but I’m afraid.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “Could we go together?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stepped out into the aisle and went forward with her, and in the best way I knew how, I trusted Jesus. As I’ve said many times since that night, I put my faith in the pastor’s hand but I put my life in the Mater’s hand.

                I found out years later that, during the week I was visiting, Mrs. Hale had gone to all the training Union groups – which were discipleship classes focused on missions and Baptist doctrine – and she had told them, “We have James with us, the boy who lived with us when he was a young child up until he was five, and now he’s fourteen, and he’s going back to his mother’s place in the next day or two. Would you pray that tonight he’ll give his life to Christ?” And sure enough, I gave my life to Christ that night.

                That being a Baptist church, they took me right up and baptized me that night – right in my clothes because they didn’t have a robe. And a few years later, when I first started preaching and gave that testimony, somebody asked me, “If they baptized you in your clothes, what did you do when you came out of the water? If your clothes were all wet, what did you wear?”

                The question caught me off guard, because I couldn’t remember. The next time I saw Mrs. Hale, I asked her, “Didn’t y’all take me right back and baptize me after I trusted Christ?” When she said yes, I asked, “Well, what did I do about clothes?”

                Mrs. Hale started crying and said, “James, before I ever left for church that night, I took a change of clothes and put them back by the baptistery. That way, if you got saved, we’d have clothes for you.”

                That’s how much faith, hope, and confidence my foster mother had. In later years, when I was preaching my crusades, Mrs. Hale would come to me after a service where hundreds of people had come to Christ, and she would say, “You know, my son, when I watched all those people come forward, I remembered the night I came and put my hand on your shoulder, and I’m so glad I did.” Here was one lady who touched the life of a boy, and he went on to touched the lives of millions. But it likely wouldn’t have happened if not for her love and prayer and faith. And don’t ever give up on the people you’re praying for. God may have a miracle in the wings.

I briefly debated whether this segment was worthy, or even of significant interest – until I realized how most of my readers are, were, or are about to be parents – whether by birth or adoption – not to mention grands and even the great-grands. And regardless of our “time stamp” as kingdom citizens, or even the origin or the quality of our spiritual parental engagement, the ever absorbing and under-girding interest of we parents is that we enjoy our posterity’s fulfilling their earthly destiny followed then by a family reunion in eternity.

As I compare the Sunday School picnic turbulence of both Robison’s childhood and mine during the ’50’s, over and against the explosive rampant “polarizing fracturing” in our world today, especially in our nations’ institutions, homes included, we are left literally speechless. In fact, speechless is too often our apparent default position as I look around the neighborhood, church included, and listen in on the conversations. I seldom hear anything significant from Christ followers or even general humanity that we  are already or soon will be in the cross-hairs of an extermination/depopulation/effort/attempt against humanity as proposed by the New World Order (NWO).…. mle