The old lady and her daughter sat in my study looking a little uncertain.

“What can you tell me about my mother’s family?” the older lady asked, “I know a bit but not back to my grandparents or where they came from”.

It seemed a strange request, but as it happened, I had done quite a bit of research on the background of this family as we shared a common ancestor, and had written a book on the early beginnings of this district in northern New Zealand. We’ll call this lady Ellie for the sake of this story, and her birth mother Essie.

Ellie had been adopted by her parents  from birth, but never knew this until she was an adult. As it happened, her adoptive father was actually her birth father…his wife had never been able to have children. When he heard that the girl he had been seeing had become pregnant, he was convinced the child was his. Knowing how much his wife longed for a baby, he told her what had happened and put the proposition of adopting this baby to her. She was happy to do this….she said the baby was half theirs anyway!

So Ellie was adopted by this couple and brought up as their own child. Living as they did in a small country district where everyone knew everyone else, it was inevitable that the other children at school knew that she was different. Ellie wasn’t even sure what being adopted meant, all she knew was that she was different to the other children, and she had to endure many taunts in the playground because of it. Not only that, she was an only child in a day where large families were the norm, and this too made her stand out as “different” to the  other children at school.

When Ellie grew up, she left the district to get work in the same city she had been born in, and here she met and married her husband. They eventually had five daughters and one son. As a young mother, she missed her real mother so much that she made up her mind to find her. She eventually tracked Essie down. She too, had married and had other children, but had never told any of them about her “disgraceful” youth. Neither her husband, nor her other children knew of the existence of Ellie.

So when she knocked on their door and Essie opened it, Ellie told her who she was, and that Essie was her birth mother. Essie was so horrified at the ramifications of this spectre from the past, that she slammed the door shut in Ellie’s face, and refused to acknowledge her. All Ellie’s dreams of a tender reunion with her real mother dissolved in a moment, and the realisation that she was nothing more than an unwelcome embarrassment to her overcame her as she stumbled away down the path and back to her home. When she got there, she tore the only photo she had of Essie into small pieces, and threw them into the rubbish bin.  She felt that life indeed had dealt her a raw deal, and the seeds of bitterness and resentment grew and festered in her mind.

Many years passed by, and Ellie’s daughters grew up and married themselves. Her youngest daughter married and went off to the States to live, and her brother followed her over there and never came back to New Zealand. Ellie felt as though they had deserted her, and it was just one more nail in her coffin of resentment and feeling of rejection.

Her eldest daughter married and moved right away from the city, and then one of the other two remaining girls was diagnosed as having cancer. She didn’t survive this, and once more Ellie felt bereft. Then to her horror, she heard that her eldest daughter who lived many miles away up north and who was expecting her first baby, had also been diagnosed with cancer. So Ellie lost this daughter as well  and although the baby survived and was brought up by his father and new wife, Ellie never saw anything of him. She often thought sadly of how he was her last link with her eldest daughter.

More years passed by. One day there was a knock at Ellie’s door. She opened it to see an old lady standing there (it was Essie).

“I’ve come to see you before I die”, she quavered.

Ellie was so angry…who does she think she is, after the way she  treated me? she thought. She never said a word, but turned on her heel slamming the door in her mother’s face,  and then watched her go down the path.

She heard a short while later that her mother had died, and there had never been any reconciliation between them.

Now here she was sitting before me wanting to know more about her real family. I was able to fill her in on her real mother’s side, who they were and where they fitted into the jigsaw of genealogy.

I had seen this lady periodically coming to the ladies outreach meetings at our church without knowing anything of her background. She had always looked so sad and miserable. Although there were many times when the topic of God’s love and forgiveness were spoken of, she never approached anyone to ask how this might help her even though the invitation to do so was frequently given.

As she told her sad story, it impressed itself on me what a difference it would have made to her if she had only done this! As far as I knew, she never did forgive her mother, and died still in her sadness and regrets of what might have been.

I include this story here as a warning of what bitterness and resentment can do to a person when it is not dealt with promptly. It is only natural to feel these things in the face of disappointments and hurts, but never let it stay and fester. The Bible tells us that these things have roots, and we are to get rid of them before they grow…

         Watch carefully in case any person fails to show the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springs up and troubles you.    (Hebrews 12:15)

         I was brought up in a devout, very strict Christian  home, where the Bible was read aloud twice every day to us children. I was brought up knowing that there was a certain life after death in either of two places….heaven or hell! I also knew that I was a wicked little sinner, because I knew what a scheming, disobedient  and stubborn little rascal I was in my soul. I was eight years old when I was convicted about doing something about my sin.

When I look at my eight year old great-grandchildren, I wonder just how much a small child is capable of understanding such great matters of eternal life and death. I have to remind myself that I was only eight when these things became a great burden to me.

I  knew  that I  had  to confess my sin  if  I wanted to go to  heaven. But  I  had  the greatest  struggle  to  do  this. This conviction  was clear and  plain to me, and I would argue with the voice of God speaking to me mostly after I went to bed. It was a continual battle.

I would hear the voice of God saying “You HAVE to do something about it!”

I would answer, “But I don’t WANT to!”

I might silence the voices for that night, but they would start up again after a few nights. This kept going on for so long, that one night, I gave in and slipped out of bed, and kneeling there I told God that I was sorry for my sin and asked Him to take it away. Oh, the relief !!

I didn’t become a Christian because my parents were….I have known many people who were brought up in equally devout Christian homes, and they have decided against it for themselves, and have never turned to the Lord.

I didn’t become a Christian because of any good things I might have done….I hadn’t lived long enough to do any good deeds with that thought in my mind.

I didn’t even become a Christian because I went to church regularly (which I did).

I became a Christian because I knew deep down that I was a sinner, child that I was, and I knew I had to listen to God for myself, and ask forgiveness for my stubbornness and rebellion against what I knew God wanted me to do.

I knew I was a sinner because I was born that way….I wasn’t a sinner because I had sinned; I sinned because I was a sinner!

I can honestly say I have never had any doubts that my sins are forgiven and that I have my ticket to heaven.

But it has not been a story of happy ever after…..I haven’t always been what I should have been, and then the contact between me and my Lord has been broken. But He has patiently waited for me to turn back to Him, and then has graciously taken me up again.

He will do the same for all those come to Him…there is a verse in the Bible that says….”A broken and a contrite heart, O Lord, You will not despise”.    (Psalm 51:17)

A testimony is something that a person can testify to, of something that they have seen or experienced. It is usually a very personal thing that has affected them deeply. These testimonies that I’m including are those of other people that I have either heard about or known, as well as my own, mostly of a spiritual nature.

A testimony is not always a positive thing, sometimes it has a negative side which can be used as a warning to us. When we see how a person has reacted against God and what the end results are, we are to take heed that we don’t do the same thing with disastrous results.

Some of these stories are from a child’s perspective while others are from an adult’s, so lets read about them and see what we can learn…..