testimony

From Rebel to Redeemed

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“Therefore if any man [be] in Christ, [he is] a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” II Corinthians 5:17.

South Side (Jeremiah 1:5.)

I was the eighth and last child born, as some would say, out of season! Ophelia, my older sister, was the “last child,” or so they thought, for 12 years! Then I came, the last and fourth son of Daisy, who raised me single-handedly, with occasional help from my older sisters. My father was not a part of my life till I sought him out later in my adult years and put a closure to years of questions and bitterness.

The rough side of Chicago is what I called home, growing up on welfare, but this fact did not stop my young mind and heart from dreaming and aspiring. From an early age I showed potential to the makings of a professional basketball player, and my coaches drove me to passionate depths for this sport. This passion paid off in the form of a scholarship to one of the best private colleges in the state of Iowa.

Black and White (I Samuel 16:7.)

Prior to my college life, my interaction with the white population was minimal, and only out of necessity. I had read little on the slavery and subjugation of the black population, so my opinions and values were based on what was handed down to me by my people. The college that sponsored me was an all-white school, with only three black enrollments prior to my enrollment. Here I was again seemingly out of place; I say seemingly, because it would be realized later that it was part of a plan.

As is often the case, young people are formidable forces when energies are channeled right, and very destructive when the opposite is true. While attending this college, I began to take note of some obvious disturbing observations. This led me to a search that would have been disastrous had not intervention stepped in. My college years were years of an intense internal struggle. I was driven by a desire to excel, not I alone, but with my black kindred. Marxism, Socialism, Zaoism, Taoism, Confucianism, Black Panther(ism), Pan-Africanism and most every other -ism began to run my life.

At about this time, racial tension was rife in the air, and my passions were right there with it. I had two driving passions:

  1. to make it “big” in professional basketball, and
  2. to free the black population from the stigma that had followed it for hundreds of years. I saw issues through “black and white” glasses, black being right and white being wrong.

It begs to be mentioned that Christianity was coupled right along with the ills of the white man’s world. I saw it (Christianity) as a tool to subjugate and oppress the black man, conclusions I drew after reading writers who perpetuated this theorem.

Scouts were out as usual looking for draftees, and the NBA was not the only agency looking. The Vietnam War was brooding in the horizon, and some young patriots were needed. The former I gladly anticipated, but the army was not a part of my plans at that time. I was a young man with hot blood flowing through my arteries, ready to conquer it all. My health was good, apart from an irritating annoyance of some painful knees I had had from the age of 17. The pains intensified, and the doctors might as well have given me a death sentence when they told me that I was suffering from the number one crippling disease in America—arthritis! They also told me that there was no known cure. However devastating that unwelcome news was, I knew of one thing. I was determined to beat the pain, so I did all that I could to control the pain. I even used various nonprescription drugs so that I could play. The condition was so debilitating that I received the highest rejection from the army: four F. Through the pain and the struggle, I watched as, one by one, my dreams faded away to a land beyond my reach! With my pro basketball career prematurely halted, I slipped into depression for a time.

Absent God (Proverbs 22:6.)

A mother’s words and pleadings may appear forgotten for a season, but they have a way of showing up when needed the most. Raised in a Baptist home, my mother often talked about God and His power. All along, I actually believed that He existed, but He was not interested in the plight of black people. I picked up an old Bible and began to thumb through it. What began as a casual perusal led to some life-changing choices. Hope revived, and I started back on my other dream of elevating my down-trodden people—blacks. I sought to do this by establishing centers that would lift the black man socially, mentally and economically to a sense of independence and self-sufficiency. Once again my vision was black, for blacks, by blacks.

The word of God has power to change a person. As I continued to study it for answers to life’s problems, I surprisingly found out that man’s health questions have their answers in the same book! I was in for a spiritual as well as a physical journey. My battle with arthritis was about to find its answers—physical as well as spiritual arthritis, the calcification of the heart and joints.

Ballot, Bullet, Basketball, or Gospel (Romans 1:16.)

While listening to preachers is important and most assuredly needed, every individual must possess a “Berean spirit.” Up to this point, most of my values and beliefs were formed from mob and sometimes prejudiced mentalities. As I read the Bible for myself and had the Holy Spirit for its expositor, my ten-year battle with crippling arthritis came to an end by simply adhering to health principles taught in the word of God! I also came across overwhelming truths that really shook some wrong foundations that needed tearing down anyway.

God was no longer a white man’s God. One story in particular that left a deep softening and change of heart was that of Jesus and Barabbas, as found in the four gospels of the Bible. (See John 18:39, 40.) Briefly recounted, here was Jesus before a people for whom He had done nothing but good to elevate. His hands had daily fed, healed, soothed and touched even the untouchables, yet the cry that came out of their mouths at His time of need was not “Have mercy,” but “Crucify Him.” On the flip, here was Barabbas, a hardened criminal who thought to liberate by stealing, killing, and lying. He performed some of the most heinous crimes. His hands were stained with blood from all the evil done, and the response of, “Release him!” to the question, “Whom shall I release?” is enough to tear at the most calloused of hearts! To my now changing heart, this scenario is unfathomable.

I saw in these two men, both revolutionists, the thing that I was trying to bring about to my own society: a revolution. One sought it (revolution) through the language of love; the other through force. From this story, I gleaned one principle. Love is the only power that could bring about true change, heart change. Love is the revolutionary power that works at the heart. Man’s problem is not a skin problem but a sin problem. Love was and is the conquering force that brings about any lasting positive change. The Gospel, as Romans 1:16 states, is the power that changes the heart. It is not the ballot, the bullet or basketball, but the Gospel as it is in Jesus. That power changed my life.

A Home and a Divine Appointment (John 1:6.)

1977 rolled in, and with it more changes. It saw my lovely wife and me go through three American states, north to south, in our quest for what we thought God wanted us to do. This journey finally ended in the state of Tennessee.

In Huntsville, Alabama, a blueprint was laid down. A training school was in its beginning stages when a man, an ordinary man, came knocking on my door one day. He was interested in our home, which happened to be among some of the best homes in the city of Huntsville. His visits continued, and a friendship developed that led to a series of exciting changes.

What began as a business interest from one end turned out to be a divine appointment on the other end. God sent a man, Richard Bland, the founder and president of United Prison Ministries International (UPMI). Richard took me under his wing and gently but purposefully led me into the Seventh-day Adventist faith through the reading material he gave me and by watching his lifestyle. True are the inspired words that “a well-ordered life will have a powerful influence for good.” Spalding and Magan’s Unpublished Testimonies, 114. He became a father-figure to me, and showed me the love of God in the flesh.

Having been born into a Baptist home, educated in a Catholic school, ordained as a lay Lutheran minister, and having directed a Methodist community organization, a pattern can be observed here, a common thread. I had been searching after and for truth. The things I was studying and learning under Richard were truly strange, yet true. I could not argue with the truth as it stared me straight in the face. With this new awakening, tough decisions needed to be made. I knew what I was studying was the truth, and so I wanted to share these wonderful truths with my queen. I excitedly told her of what I was learning and embracing. LaVerne, who today is my bride of 36 years, did not share in my enthusiasm and what she termed “strange beliefs.”

Is This It? (Joshua 24:15.)

She had begun to mark the changes, and she was sure I was losing my mind, but when I announced to her that I was going to profess my faith by the sign of baptism, she put out an ultimatum. “If you go ahead with these crazy ideas, then I will divorce you!” Those words shook me to the core because I loved my wife, and so I sought the Lord in prayer, and He gave me courage to stand for Him. It is then that I knew that my heart and priorities had changed. With fear and trepidation I made my choice. For, you see, I knew that a marriage without God would fail. I had grown to love Jesus, and I wanted to do all that He asked of me.

I prayed earnestly for my wife, and the God who made the ear heard my strong supplications and brought about change in my wife’s heart! Praise God! One warm Alabama spring morning, my wife and I were buried in the watery grave and rose up new creatures in Christ. That was a glorious day. That was 31 years ago, and the journey grows sweeter with each new year. As I meditated on the love of God, it suddenly dawned on me that I had a debt that I owed. “Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” Psalm 107:8. It was not the sin debt, because I could never pay for that one—Jesus did it for me—but a service debt. I’ll put it this way: “I owe, I owe, and off to the mission field I go.”

3 (Dis) Appointments to (His) Appointments (Romans 8:28.)

It’s been 20 years now. God has been with us in the mission field. He founded M.E.E.T. Ministry (1988) on what may have looked like a poor man with a passion to point others to the Helper, but in truth He established it on His shoulders, and for these many years He has steered it aright. My wife and I have been entrusted as stewards of M.E.E.T. Ministry (Missionary Education and Evangelistic Training) where many (young and old) have had encounters with the Gospel through the medical missionary training and work. What may have seemed to be disappointments earlier on in my life, crippling arthritis, premature ending of a professional basketball career, and nonstarter for black empowerment schools were really God’s appointments to lead me on to the path of truth and righteousness. Many more chapters could be written telling how He has led us, but for now, this, I pray, will suffice.

All my previous energies and passions, and that which I still have, have been channeled to loving and serving my Savior for over 30 years. I have traded a basketball for a Bible, and instead of going up and down a basketball court, God has allowed my wife and me the privilege of going up and down the earth’s court to spread the everlasting Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the retirement is out of this world. With the hymn writer [Fanny J. Crosby] I end with these words:

This is my story,

This is my song,

Praising my Savior …

Because of His Blessed Assurance!

Thomas Jackson is a Health Evangelist and Director of Missionary Education and Evangelistic Training (M.E.E.T.) Ministry in Huntingdon, Tennessee. He may be contacted by e-mail at: godsplan@meetministry.org or by telephone at: 731-986-3518.

To Streets of glory

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Isaiah 42:7 says, “To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house.”

Mine is a testimony of being set free from both spiritual and literal prisons. Yet many who have never been behind iron bars have been prisoners to shame and guilt through sin, which is transgression of God’s laws. (See I John 3:4.) Except we should take advantage of the redemption provided for us through the death, resurrection and intercession of Jesus Christ, we all would sit hopelessly on death row, awaiting the just penalty for our sins. (See Ezekiel 18:24; Romans 6:23.) I pray that this testimony will encourage some, who have gone to the depths of sin, to answer the Lord’s call, to become and remain free through the abiding gift of God’s Son.

I was born 1960, in Southern California and raised in a basically non-religious family. There was no Bible around nor Biblical instruction. The closest we got to Christianity was Christmas trees, Santa, and Easter egg hunts. I was the last addition to a family of one sister, Mary, and two brothers, Rob and Phil. I’m the result of my parents’ violation of the 7th commandment and their marriage vows. My mom is 5’ 2” and married to an easygoing man named Jack, whom I call “Dad” to this day. Jack was 5’ 6” with black hair, and worked in aviation. His rival, “Jim,” was 6’8”, a reddish blond police officer, womanizer and husband to mom’s 2nd cousin. Mom worried for nine months that I’d look like Jack’s rival. I was born 10 lbs., 11 oz. with red hair; clearly not Jack’s son. If my mom would have known or taken to heart Numbers 32:23, “Behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: and be sure your sin will find you out,” I might not be writing this. Anyway, the secret of my origin was kept from me till I was about 13 years old.

Some of my earliest memories, before my folks’ separation and divorce in 1965–1966, are of people saying, “He sure does not look like the others.” How out of place that made me feel. I’m sure it affected Mom and Jack, too. Another memory was going out alone, lying in the grass in our back yard, and looking through the clouds trying to see God. (John 1:9.) He is the light that comes to every child, but we have to cherish that light, or the world (and its god) will eclipse it. I clearly remember people crying over Kennedy’s assassination and racial tension from the Watts riots a few miles away. I also remember that Dad managed my cousins’ rock band, “The Rubber Band,” and how, when they practiced in our garage, it would attract the neighborhood. I used to get as close to the drums or amplifiers as I could, as I liked how it changed the rhythms of my heart. “Rock” and “acid rock,” which evolved into “heavy metal,” profoundly affected my life. (See I Corinthians 15:33.)

  1. The divorce split us all up. We were all given the choice to live with whichever parent we wanted. My sister and I chose Mom. However, my brothers and I still attended the same school. Then, one day, I went to meet them in the park, as we always did after school, and they were not there. Dad and his new wife Hilda had taken them out of state. I never saw or heard from them for several years during which, due to a number of circumstances, I was bounced around to different homes and schools. All this compounded that “out of place” feeling, which grew into a sense of rejection and abandonment. Over time, I found these emotions easier to deal with if channeled or transformed into anger or hate and pointed outward. Pretty soon I did not have to try hard to do it. I vented it on others in attacks or fights.

The one stability I had during that time was Grandpa. (Grandma was a Christian, but had advanced Alzheimer’s before that name was given to it.) Grandpa was not a professing Christian, but while I lived with him, he set fair and firm boundaries and made sure my grades stayed up. He was brutally honest, bitingly sarcastic, and a bit racist; all of which rubbed off on me. He also used tobacco, and I started smoking “like Grandpa” when I was eight.

My mom remarried, and in 1971 I moved back with them. It was not long before her new husband told her, “It’s the brat or me!” Mom chose the brat. Mom became very permissive and acted more like a friend than a parent. Her change in behavior and values seemed to be tied to her becoming depressed and anorexic in addition to the valium, barbiturates and codeine that doctors gave her. Under the influence of these, it seemed not to bother her when I cussed, smoked in front of her, grew my hair long, shoplifted, or got in fights with “the jocks.” I was a manipulative, rebellious child, and I pushed to see where my boundaries were. But, there were no laws, limits, or punishment.

Within a year or so, my brothers ran away from Dad and Hilda, and were in and out of our house before joining the military. It was during a family fallout that my oldest brother let out the family secret and the identity of my true father. As a father and police officer, my biological father was to represent love, law, authority, and integrity. Due to his representation, I rejected them all. (Those are all attributes of God, and they were so distorted in my mind that God had a hard time reaching me.) Satan knows our weak spots and how to time things. He saw to it that somebody showed me a Bible text: Deuteronomy 23:2: “A bastard shall not enter into the congregation of the Lord; even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the Lord.” That was the ultimate rejection. But, here was (to me) Bible proof that the God I sought as a child had consigned me and any offspring from me to eternal flames. I did not choose to be born this way. I had no affinity for Satan, but I figured I was going to burn with him, so I might as well get what I could from life right then. This may seem simplistic of me, but misapplied Scripture can do serious harm in one not trained to study correctly.

I was 13 years old and there was nobody around I could speak to about spiritual things, at least Christian spirituality. I had some serious voids in my life left by this misunderstanding of God and the lack of a father or brothers. Around that time, my sister’s new husband introduced me to Dexedrine, an amphetamine. I liked it, as it changed the way I felt about everything. I started trying other drugs and liked them better than marijuana and alcohol. However, I continued to use them all. I found that I could chemically alter those feelings of not belonging, insecurity, etc., and I was determined to stay in those altered states. A Vietnam vet moved in next door at that time, bringing all his crazy biker buddies, and I was attracted to the Harley Davidsons, the heavy metal music, and the wild parties. They seemed to like having the wild kid around, who could take as much LSD as they could. They took the place of family to me, and I’d do anything to impress them and spend time with them. My girlfriend Kim used to baby-sit for them, so that also gave us time, unobserved, we should not have had. We were both way ahead of our time.

Amidst all that, I remember the Lord knocking hard at my heart’s door that year. I was confronted by a Christian youth group on my way into a rock concert. You could see joy in their eyes, and I needed that, but in my pocket I had the keys to a ’65 Mustang Mom had turned over to me, money, drugs, and I was surrounded with friends. I quickly reasoned that I was young, and Christian life would take away my fun and friends. Besides, I reasoned further, God’s word already showed me I could have no part with His congregation. So I ignored the knock and sent the Lord away. This brings a passage and a principle to mind: Proverbs 13:12 states, “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.”

It was many years before I sensed the call of the Lord like that again. During those years I dropped out of school, began using the needle and committing serious, even gun crimes to supply the large sums needed for drugs. I became more hateful and embraced Nazism. And, of course, I was having run-ins with the law. Though I’d get arrested, for the most part through technicalities or leniency, charges would drop or I’d never get more than 11 months, even for felonies. Ecclesiastes 8:11 reads, “Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil.”

By my twenties many of my contemporaries were dying of overdoses, being murdered, killing others, or in prison; Subconsciously, I had a death wish. On occasion I’d rob armed drug dealers, knowing they could not call police, they could only kill me. In 1986 I got in close with a bunch of witches. And that is when God intervened. Early in 1987 my fiancée, Jerianna, and I were arrested in La Paz County, Arizona, for a string of crimes committed on both the California and Arizona sides of the Colorado River. One of the charges in Arizona carried a 20-year minimum, mandatory sentence. Jerianna got scared and made a deal with both states. She would tell them everything if they’d let her go but bury me, as she was afraid I’d kill her if I ever got out.

This was the best thing God could do for me. While I was being tried, God used a police officer named Troy to put a King James Bible through the bars into my hands. Troy’s kindness took me off guard, as I had not treated him with much respect. I sat down and admitted that “doing it my way” had caused a lot of hurt, and that I would try God’s way if He’d help me read and understand His Word. I started with Psalm 64. Part of it fit my situation, but He needed to answer my problem with Deuteronomy 23:2, the quote about the bastard not being allowed into the congregation. God did answer that problem with two key passages. John 3:3, 6, 7 says, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. … That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.” The second text was John 1:12, 13. “But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” All of us are offered the privilege of being children of God, if we receive it. But it doesn’t end there. Colossians 2:6 promises, “As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him.”

As I began turning my life over to God, He began overruling in my legal situation. Even after I confessed my crimes, I got roughly 1/10 of the mandatory 20-year sentence in Arizona. I see that as a miracle. I accepted prison as part of God’s way of setting me free spiritually. (See John 8:31, 34.) God taught me that in Christ there can be no racism. In I John 4:20 we are instructed, “If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?” Cutting loose from Nazism was like a huge weight lifting from me. I learned to pray for my enemies. I also learned that God’s forgiveness does not always clear away earthly penalties for our sins. Galatians 6:7 clearly says, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” I knew I still had felony charges in California that carried four to ten years.

While going through extradition hearings, I continually studied the Bible and got nicknamed “the preacher.” I was under heavy conviction for my countless sins, and my need for baptism. I was taught that eternal torments in hellfire awaited the unsaved, and the charismatic ministry volunteers taught that speaking in tongues was the evidence that God accepted you. For months they laid hands on me, but it never happened. At my baptism, unintelligible words came out, but nobody could interpret. I reasoned that the Holy Spirit didn’t forget what He inspired Paul to write in I Corinthians 14:27, 28, and this did not match what was taught there or in Acts 2. So I apologized to God for demanding a certain gift as proof that He accepted me, and asked that if that was not His Spirit speaking through me, that it not happen again. It never has. God overruled again, and California courts counted some of my time in Arizona as “time served,” leaving only five months to serve in Chino, California. It was there in 1989 that I became acquainted with “Flying Prison Ministries.”

These men had a thinking man’s faith, not all clapping and emotionalism. They had joy, yet their message carried reproof and called for serious study and continual surrender. The head chaplain was a fallen away Seventh-day Adventist, and he restricted their messages and the literature they brought in. I knew they were different, but did not know they were Seventh-day Adventists till they invited me to attend their church on release. I had a SR-22 driver’s restriction. A Sunday church within walking distance from where I was paroled had already placed me with a good job with one of their elders. Still, God compelled me to call on the Adventists one Saturday, and in minutes I had a ride to church. The prison minister, a former gang member, was the church librarian. When I asked him for the best books to define the SDA church, Bobby handed me Daniel and Revelation by Uriah Smith and The Great Controversy by Ellen G. White. In about a week, I read The Great Controversy, and it helped me see Christ more clearly, as well as remove Satanic mists of false prophecy and traditions that exalted the authority of the Roman Catholic Church over Divine authority, i.e. the Laws of God and Scripture. I never really knew what it meant to be a Protestant or Catholic till I read that book. That book multiplied the worth of my Bible to me more than words can describe.

I wish I could tell you I fully submitted to God right then. But an intellectual assent to even the greatest truths is not enough to break the grip of Satan. I was fired from my job with the Sunday church and became a Sabbath keeper, as God helped me establish a painting business. He helped me leave off unclean foods. I got off parole and got engaged to a Pathfinder leader. Outwardly, I looked good, but deep inside, the missing element that earlier made drugs an option left me with a weakness that needed only the right opportunity to show itself. It was the same weakness that after walking 3 1/2 years with Jesus, Peter had when he denied Jesus in that judgment hall. Self-will was enthroned where God should reign, and like Peter, who went back to fishing in his great disappointment, I went back to my old ways. Compare Matthew 12:43–47. I lost my fiancée, business, home, all but a van that I pit-stopped in. What made my fall worse is that people knew I had been involved with Seventh-day Adventism. I became a false witness who gave room for Satan to reproach Christ, His cause and His Church.

God leaves it to us to surrender our will in exchange for His. That can be our greatest struggle. Many times I asked to be delivered from temptation and sin, in my case, methamphetamines. And one day, in prayer, I finally came to the point where I admitted to God that I loved drugs more than I loved Christ. But I knew Christ loved me more than His own life, and if I would accept that love, and overcome, even as He overcame, He would assure me a place with Him in His eternal throne. (See Revelation 3:19–21.) I asked Him to take my will and what I loved and replace it with His will. This is exactly what Jesus did when He was tempted to give up at Gethsemane. He admitted that His flesh was weak, and surrendered His will for His Father’s will. Three times He did this. (See Matthew 26:39–44.) He overcame, giving us an example of how to overcome while in the likeness of sinful flesh.

God moved decisively, and my friends and drug connections closed up to me. My church had been going toward the celebration style of worship, to the point where a youth leader/elder rode his Harley Davidson motorcycle into the sanctuary on Sabbath, October 22, and told a children’s story about how Harleys got named “Hog.” That was my cue, after making a protest, to wipe my feet and leave to look for fellowship and study among people who respect God and the mission of His church. In 1995 I was told of a Hope International camp meeting in Angeles Oaks, CA. I had seen Our Firm Foundation and LandMarks magazines while I was in Fiji in 1993–1994. I needed strong fellowship when I got back from Fiji, but that was not easily found in my old church. Anyway, I was impressed that I’d find serious Adventists at the camp meeting. Although God had just delivered me from meth and alcohol weeks before, I still smoked. I prayed all the way from Los Angeles to the mountains where the camp meeting was being held that I would not come down those mountains still hooked. God answered. On sight, Ron Spear told me, “God wants to use you right now, but He can’t till you can tell people about victory!” The next question was “where are you your cigarettes?”

He and several others took time to pray with me all through that camp meeting. I found people who really loved the Lord and respected the mission and message of the remnant movement of God. Ron and Betty Spear took a chance with me and pulled out a bundle of cash for gas. Ron said, “If you let the Lord keep you in victory, drive up to Hope and volunteer for a while. God willing, the staff will watch and pray, and maybe you will fit in there.” Of course, there was resistance from my church friends to working with an “independent ministry.”

But Hope was what I needed. I had heart, kidney, liver, brain, and, even worse, soul damage from 20 years of injecting drugs. Overnight, I became a vegan, and in two weeks I was over the slump, retraining taste buds and having remarkable recoveries. I could remember what I studied. I needed strong fellowship, study, country living and a purpose in the Everlasting Gospel Commission. God helped me to find it.

Nearly two years later, I wanted to try something more along the lines of mission field, and went to Mexico to CMS, a training School for health, agricultural and Bible workers, to assist in a small press operation being set up there. It was in this place that I became further convicted to do more to advance the Three Angels’ Messages, and I knew I needed to be better equipped.

Reuben and Jean Teske suggested earlier that I look into Black Hills, a school for evangelism led by Louis and Carol Torres, that had good placement with the churches. Through several miracles the Lord opened the way, even the door the Torres’s meant to keep closed to me due to my “ultra conservative” background. Despite a few doctrinal differences, we became friends, and after graduating from Black hills I was called to Plymouth Sorrento Church in Florida where I met and married my wife Blanca.

After working in Florida for a year, Ron Goss called us to work in Virginia, assisting him so he could further develop Project Restore, a publishing and revival ministry. Ron sent us to the Philippines in 2000, where, with the help of the Holy Spirit and good ground workers, God blessed with over 170 precious souls coming out of Roman Catholic Babylon into Christ and His remnant church. It was the encouragement we needed. God granted us some success in the rural “Bible belt” in the United States, but in comparison, Americans are gospel hardened.

On another occasion, during the day before our main evening city crusade, I remember preaching in a hot, sweaty Filipino jail, with the whole cell block in the aisle with their Bibles, note pads and markers. It was near the end of the series, and out of 220 inmates, 80 men and 11 women stopped coming out for mass and requested baptism. The Lord impressed me to share a message called, “Saved to Serve.” We came to Matthew 28:18–20 which says, “And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” A depth of meaning to that passage and rays of hope came to me such as I’d not sensed in it before.

As I looked at these men sitting on the floor of that jail, I thought of the first time I had read Matthew 28:18–20. I was in a jail, not seeing further than a prison yard, not knowing when I’d get out and so not really applying it personally. As I looked into their eyes, it came over me that by God’s grace and that commission, here I was, in the end of the world, both geographically and in time, teaching them to observe all that the Lord commanded, and that He was with me, as He was promising to be with them. It brought tears of gratitude to my eyes, and hope for these men as well! It was a hope that God could turn away their captivity and send them also to every nation, kindred, tongue and people. Because they were seeking to obey God, already the key of David and the doors of heaven’s blessings were opening for them, as God was doing for me at that moment.

There have been many other soul-winning opportunities and hundreds of baptisms as the fruit of serving God since then. I don’t have seminary training or church ordination, but since 1999 my wife and I have been Bible instructors, and from late 2004 till last May, we were also lay-pastoring. Oh, how wrong I was when I turned the Lord away at 13, thinking Christian life would be boring or bondage. We look forward to where God will send us next, to use the everlasting Gospel keys He has given us “to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house.” Isaiah 42:7. May God also set you free to set others free in Christ.

Dean Ferrell has served as a Bible worker, a pastor, and an evangelist in a variety of locations. He and his wife, Blanca, make a powerful team in ministry. Dean is currently helping his spiritual mentor, Elder Ron Spear, in Kettle Falls, Washington.

My Conversion Story

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There was a song I heard in my childhood years that had a verse that said, “If it had not been for the Lord who was on my side, where would I be?” This verse expresses the theme of my heart when I think of the goodness of God and all He has done for me. If it had not been for a God who loves His enemies, where would I be? And if it had not been for a God who looked upon me with pity and acted upon me with grace, then where would I be? Only God truly knows where I would be, but because I know where I was, I magnify Jehovah for where I am today. I stand and testify of a heart-changing God who has delivered my soul from the chains of darkness and joined it to the Son of light. The Almighty Father has proved His love to me in ways that have left me so convinced that there is no greater love. And as I reflect upon the saving grace that has produced my conversion, my heart is overwhelmed with a great debt that is due to His name. At a time when I thought that all hope was lost, the hands of God were directing the events of my life in order for His power to be seen.

The incidents that brought about my conversion are living monuments that bear witness to the patience, mercy, and forgiveness of the God who is as powerful today as He was in the days of Moses. On the ninth of June, 2000, a day that is far from being forgotten, an event occurred that would eventually change my life forever. On this day I decided to engage in a criminal act which I had never done before. I was barely eighteen years old, and a high school graduate for only nine days. Young and full of worldly aspirations, my reasons for participating in this crime were a combination of greed, pride, and the fear of rejection. I had little concern about the consequences of my actions, but not enough to restrain my ambitions. So there I was, even in the brightness of the morning, endeavoring to experience a new dimension of the criminal life in an attempt to gain not only wealth, but also a higher degree of honor within my social group.

As I proceeded to engage in this crime, something suddenly occurred that was not part of the plan. It just so happened that while I was leaving the scene, an officer was driving down the same street, headed directly toward the scene. By the time I noticed him, it was too late to get into my vehicle. Therefore, I walked along the city street, hoping that he would just drive by, but he did not. To my surprise and dismay, he stopped right beside me and stepped out of his car. After a short investigation, a foot pursuit transpired, after which I was arrested. So there I was, detained in the county jail. This was my first time incarcerated as an adult. The only other time I spent incarcerated was when I was sixteen years old. And even that was not a true incarceration because it lasted for only a few hours until my father arrived to get me. However, this time was different; hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. But little did I know that the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

Prior to my trial, the District Attorney offered me a plea bargain that I did not accept because prison was included. At eighteen years old and weighting a mere 120 pounds, prison was the last place I wanted to be. I thought that if I were sent to prison, I would definitely come face to face with death. Not only did my body size influence my reasoning, but the fact that I had made many enemies throughout this entire process also strengthened my fears. Therefore, I decided to disregard the plea and place my life instead into the hands of the jury. Now this was undoubtedly an unwise decision. The amount of time offered in the plea bargain was no match to the amount of time I could have received if found guilty of all eleven charges. But the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

After the selection of the jury, the trial was in full session. Evidence was brought forward, witnesses bore their testimonies, and arguments were exchanged between the District Attorney and my lawyer. After a two-day trial, the process of deliberation finally began. Before the jury began to deliberate, there was no doubt that I was guilty of all charges. Not only did the evidence prove my guilt, but the fact that I refused to testify on my own behalf also provided solid evidence of my guilt. So there I was, awaiting my fate. Now, if I had been convicted of all eleven charges, I would have been incarcerated for the rest of my life. But the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen. And it just so happened on the day before the deliberation that the uncle of one of the jurors died. As a result of this, the juror was overwhelmed with grief that would not allow her to continue in the deliberation process. Therefore, she asked to be excused from the process and dismissed from her jury duties. After investigating the validity of the claim of her uncle’s death, it was determined that his death had indeed occurred. So, according to certain regulations, she was granted her request.

Now that this juror was dismissed, there were only eleven jurors remaining to decide my case. By law, at least twelve jurors must be present to deliberate and decide a verdict. Now that there were only eleven, I was given an option to either allow them to render a verdict or declare a mistrial. Well, considering the fact that all evidence was against me, and my guilt was apparent, I immediately declared a mistrial. As a result of this declaration, the District Attorney had several options to choose from; he could have dismissed my charges, filed a motion for a retrial, or offered me another plea agreement. As time passed, I prepared myself to face another trial. I knew that my charges would not be dismissed, and I thought that no better plea would be offered than the one that I had refused. But the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

Around a month after the trial, my attorney visited me with news regarding the status of my case. The report he brought was far beyond my expectations. Previously, the District Attorney had attempted to provide the Labette Correctional Conservation Camp (boot camp) for me as an alternative to prison. But boot camp did not accept me because of the severity of my crimes. Following my trial, however, the Lord put it upon the heart of the judge to write a letter to the administrators of boot camp requesting that they accept me into their program. This resulted in great success, and as a result of their acceptance of me, the District Attorney revised his plea bargain, which granted me community probation upon the completion of the boot camp program. This was the news that my attorney presented. Out of exceeding joy I immediately accepted the plea agreement. And after spending six months in boot camp, I was released back into the community. This amounted to a total of fourteen months of incarceration.

Though I learned many life-improving methods in boot camp, it was not enough to change my evil conduct. I did not learn the discipline needed to keep me out of the streets. And most importantly, I did not learn the reality of where a life of sin would end. Upon my release, I continued to travel the path to destruction. Even though I was given a three years’ probation period, I did not abide by the terms laid out in the agreement. I continued to associate with the same social group, and I got heavily involved with alcohol. The motivation I gained from boot camp was applied to my endeavors to become rich. And due to my involvement with illegal drugs, I was slowly gaining wealth. So there I was, living free and prospering in many ways. But even though I was gaining the desires of my heart, deep down I was afraid. I did not want to live in fear for the rest of my life, yet my fears were not capable of restraining my egotistic ways. But the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

A wise king once said, “He who covers his sins will not prosper.” Proverbs 28:13. Fourteen months after my release, this proverb was proved true in my life. As a result of my continual engagement in illegal activities, I found myself sitting in the county jail again. This was the second time I had been arrested as an adult. The crimes that I committed this time were not as severe as the former crimes, but the amount of time I was facing was still great. However, the effects of this latter incarceration were different from the former. Immediately after my incarceration, I began to question myself and ponder the course of my life. Most disturbing to me was the thought of leaving my little girl, who was only two months old, in a world too large for her to live in without her father. I could not believe that I abandoned her. For this and other reasons, my heart was severely broken, and I wept for many nights. “What am I doing?” “Is there a better way to live?” “Where will I end up in life?” These were some of the various questions I asked myself as I sought the meaning of my life.

As I mentioned earlier, my second incarceration was in many ways different from the first. Since I was still on probation when I was arrested, my probation was revoked, and I was immediately transported to the Department of Corrections. Before my transportation, however, the Lord began to thoroughly impress my heart. While still in the county jail, I began to read the Scriptures with an earnest desire for change. I began to cry out to God in desperation for help. I began to realize that it was my own selfish desires that were ruining my life. No longer could I blame others for my problems; I knew that I was my worst enemy. As I read the Word, revelations filled my mind. I began to confess my sins and exercise trust in Jesus Christ. Little concern was given to the amount of time I was facing. I had experienced the peace of God that expelled many worries. I had come to realize that the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

Upon my arrival to prison, I was comforted with the assurance that God was with me. I did not know what to expect, but I knew that I was determined to continue in His Word. After about a month, I received a visit from my attorney during which he informed me about the status of my new case. You see, somehow my new charges were dropped, even before I was sent to the Department of Corrections. The only reason I was sent was to finish the time appointed from my previous case. But while I was in prison, my new charges were refiled. During his visit, my attorney related to me the amount of time I was facing. He informed me that I could receive at least fifteen years in prison if convicted. But little did he know that the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

After my attorney’s visit, I remained calm and peaceful. I related the news to some of my street associates who were also serving prison sentences. They were amazed that I was facing such a large amount of time. And they were even more amazed at how I remained happy and unconcerned. They thought I was strange because of my change of conduct, and our association grew further and further apart until they finally recognized my sincerity. I was determined to live right, and I could not allow any man to persuade me to do otherwise. I had experienced the touch of God’s love, so neither life nor death could steal the joy that I had in my heart. Even with the thought of facing fifteen years, I concluded that nothing could separate me from the love of God.

As time passed, I was transported back to the county jail to face the new charges that had been refiled. I wasn’t there very long until my attorney visited me with news regarding the position of my case. To this day I am amazed at the power of God and how He continually intervened in my life. To my surprise, two of the original three charges were not refiled. It seemed as if my attorney was not fully aware of this when he visited me in prison. What we thought was a fifteen years prospect was drastically decreased. Furthermore, my attorney informed me that the District Attorney was extending a plea agreement that consisted of only a 34-month prison term consecutive to my prior case. After pondering over the pros and cons, I eventually accepted the offer. I had already experienced the prison environment and was not troubled over the thought of serving a little more time. The peace of God was ruling in my heart, and I knew that nothing would happen to me aside from His will. I knew that the hands of God were directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

In the second half of Proverbs 28:13, King Solomon says, “… whoever confesses and forsakes [his sins] will have mercy.” Just as the former half of this proverb was proved true to me, so was the latter. I was eventually transported back to prison to complete both prison sentences. For the entire forty months of my incarceration, I spent my time developing a close relationship with the Father and His Son. Hours upon hours were devoted to studying, praying, and meditating. I began to see life in a very different way. I knew that all the recent events of my life were a part of God’s plan to gain my attention. If it had not been for the Lord who was on my side, I would be either permanently incarcerated or six feet underground. But Jehovah’s love is immeasurable, and His judgments cannot be overturned. The Father is actively engaged in the administration of His saving grace. He is earnestly stretching out His arms to the lost sheep that are still wandering in the mountains and deserts of this world. And because of the fact that He has patiently labored for my deliverance, I am determined to labor with Him for the deliverance of others. By the grace of God, I will fight the good fight until the end. By His might, I will run with endurance. And until the day that my breath departs, I will earnestly work to let the world know that the hands of God are directing the events in order for His power to be seen.

A member of Steps to Life staff, Demario Carter works in the Mail Order Services Department. He can be contacted by e-mail at: landmarks@stepstolife.org or by telephone at: 316-788-5559.

Testimony – From Prison in the Philippines

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My name is Amelia Sanchez.* I am 35 years old and I am currently incarcerated in a prison in Manila where I have been for about two years. I was a very successful business woman prior to coming to this facility. The events that caused me to be in this place happened rapidly and caused me to lose everything dear to me in this life: family and friends, possessions, a business, but most of all my dignity as a person.

On February 17, 2017, at my arraignment hearing I was surprised to see a familiar friend who I was allowed to speak with for a short while. He said that he would come to visit me with a pastor friend of his. He kept his word and did come to the prison with his Pastor friend, Joenel Panganiban. Pastor Joenel brought LandMarks magazine to me where I was able to learn Bible truth. It was through his personal efforts and visits that I came to learn the gospel of Jesus. He really showed me that knowing and living for Jesus is the only reason for this earthly life, and the bonus is that a large number in this jail have come to understand the truths that I have learned.

Because of Pastor Joenel’s faithful encouragement, I now do my very best to live according to the truths of the Bible. I now know how to pray. I encourage my fellow prisoners with the same Bible truths of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the good news of salvation. I continually encourage them (a group of 30 now) to read the Bible and now have regular devotional time before 6:00 a.m. This daily practice has given us the name of “prayer warriors.” This has also been noticed by the personnel in charge of the jail and testify how well behaved this group is since Pastor Joenel has been our mentor.

In December 2017, we were allowed a special time with Pastor Joenel and his team who brought us food and gifts. On this blessed day we enjoyed Bible themed events and all the inmates happily joined in. The Bureau officers so appreciated the assistance and sacrifice of Pastor Joenel and his team that they were requested to return for the celebration of Women’s Month in March 2018.

I want to thank all the LandMarks team for such a wonderful magazine. The magazine has been such a blessing to me and to my co-inmates. Thanks to all who write the articles that teach us Bible truth and help us to grow in faith. We enjoy all that is contained in the magazine from the health articles, current events, the children’s corner, and crossword. Again, thank you and God bless you.

* [A pseudonym has been used to protect her identity.]

Testimony – Only Weak People Need God

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“Only weak people need God.” That’s what I used to tell my Christian friends when I was a young man. I perceived Christians as too weak to stand on their own two feet, needing the “crutch” of religion to sustain them in life. I mocked my Christian friends and ridiculed those who tried to witness to me of God’s love. You see, I grew up an atheist, having no belief in God. Both of my parents were from large families, so I had many aunts and uncles and cousins, all professing to be Christians. But it didn’t take long to realize that what they professed on Sunday morning was far from how they lived the rest of the week.

And so I concluded that Christianity was just a charade. And if the Christian life was not real, then how could God be real? I married my wife in 1969, and we moved to San Diego to begin our lives together.

We lived an indulgent, rebellious life there until 1986, when we moved to the Pacific Northwest. I became dissatisfied with my lifestyle and felt inclined for the first time in my life to search for something beyond myself. I decided to read the Bible, and then attended a Revelation seminar held in the town where I lived. I soon responded to the voice of the Holy Spirit, and after almost 20 years of selfish indulgence, I laid my sins of drugs and alcohol upon the altar of Christ.

Miraculously, my victory was immediate and complete, never having the desire nor inclination to take them up again. In 1988, I was baptized and joined the Seventh-day Adventist Church. I was ordained as a deacon in 1989. I was asked to serve as an elder in 1990. And in 1992, I was asked to serve as the head elder, which I faithfully did for the next 21 years. In 2012, several members of our church became uncomfortable with some of the doctrines that were being taught by a young pastor that was now leading our church. I soon found myself at odds with this pastor with regard to the humanity of Christ, victorious living, and the character of the 144,000.

We found neither support nor cooperation from our local conference leaders.

Their support for their pastor was firm and we were told to cease our resistance and to move in harmony with the church. Finding ourselves unable to do so with a clear conscience before God, and no longer feeling welcome in our own church, we decided to separate from the church we loved and to start a home church. Having been in church leadership for so many years, it was natural that I should lead out in worship.

As our numbers grew, it became evident that we needed some structure in our church, and so we decided to rent a local Grange Hall every Sabbath. For legal reasons, we called ourselves the Little Flock Advent Church, and for the past 6 years it has been my privilege to serve as the shepherd of our little flock. In 2015, we contacted Steps to Life to inquire about becoming a part of the Free Seventh-day Adventist Church.

We soon realized that we were historic Adventists and that the doctrines and principles which we embraced were in common with the teachings of the Free Seventh-day Adventists. We were overjoyed to find that there were still many who had not bowed the knee to Baal! Today, we proudly bear the name Little Flock Free Seventh Day Adventist Church. I immediately enrolled in the Training Program for Ministers and Church Leaders offered by Steps to Life, to prepare me to serve as a pastor.

What a wonderful program this is. I highly recommend it, not only for church leaders, but for all who desire to better understand God’s purpose for His church and to experience His guidance that will lead us into His kingdom. The church has been warned that the last great deception of Satan would be to make of none effect the testimony of the Spirit of God (Selected Messages, Book 1, 48). We are seeing the fulfillment of this prophecy today.

This training program brings to light the counsel that God has given to guide His church through the time of trouble. It is Satan’s desire that the Spirit of Prophecy should go unheeded and that the church lose confidence in its counsel. Brothers and sisters, we cannot allow this to happen! Those who refuse to be guided by the testimony of Jesus will not fit the description that God has given of His remnant people in Revelation 12:17. Therefore they will not be among those who make up that happy throng.

I met Pastor Grosboll and Pastor Nunez last year when they were conducting a crusade south of Seattle. I have spoken with many over the phone at Steps to Life, and we now feel that we are a part of a much larger family.

Today, our average Sabbath attendance is about 25 souls. We are thankful to have a comfortable place to worship where we are surrounded by the beauty of the Olympic Mountains and plenty of trees and wildlife.

In late March of this year, Pastor Nunez traveled from Wichita, Kansas, to the Olympic Peninsula to meet with our church. On Sabbath, March 24, one day after my 69th birthday, it was a privilege to be ordained as a Seventh-day Adventist pastor. It is the desire, as well as the delight of my heart, to serve the Lord and His church until the day He comes to take us home.

By the signs of the times, that day is not too far off. It is my purpose to be a good and faithful shepherd, so that you will meet me, as well as every other member of the Little Flock Free Seventh-day Adventist Church without the loss of one, on the day we stand together around the sea of glass. May the Lord find us faithful until that day. Amen.

Life Sketch of Ruth Grosboll, Part II

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Ruth Josephine Wallner Grosboll passed away on January 10, 2010, in Wichita, Kansas. She worked at Steps to Life Ministries for over 15 years and has been a regular contributor to LandMarks magazine.

John and Ruth arrived in Burma in 1947 just at the time the country was entering a long civil war. John became the business manager of the Rangoon Mission Hospital and, for a time, Ruth was the only nurse qualified to assist the two or three physicians working at the hospital so she gained much experience from the many surgeries in which she assisted. Help was required to take care of their children while they both worked, so a housekeeper was hired. In the latter part of 1949 John was hospitalized after developing tuberculosis so it was decided to fly the entire family back to the United States where John could be treated at the White Memorial Hospital, in California, in the early part of 1950. Later that year, John and Ruth decided to settle again, for the time being, in Toppenish, Washington. For a few weeks they lived with Ruth’s parents, Joe and Agnes Wallner, and afterwards rented a two-car garage where their family lived for one year. The garage had a bathroom and a kitchenette and was located behind Elmer and Maizie Williams’ (Ruth’s oldest sister and brother-in-law) home and also next door to one of the Adventist physicians in the town of Toppenish.

The city, recognizing the need for their own hospital, had recently opened a community hospital and for a short time Ruth became the superintendent of nurses. While John was supposed to be resting and recuperating from tuberculosis, he decided to build a house. They purchased 5 acres of land ¾ mile from town and John built the first house that they had ever owned. In 1952 while living in this house their third child and only daughter was born. Their first son had been named after his father, their second son had been given a name by their first son and this time Ruth announced to the family that she was going to name this girl herself. She did not need any other opinions because she had already decided on the name she had chosen for this girl. It was Gwen. She did, however, allow her husband to select a middle name and he chose his mother’s name.

John became the credit manager of the Toppenish Community Hospital. In winter, the sun went down around 4 o’clock and being a faithful Sabbath keeper, John told the business manager that he could not work after sundown on Friday; however, he was willing to make up the time on Sunday if allowable. The manager told him that if he could not work until 5 o’clock on Friday he would need to find another job so John prepared to leave and look for work elsewhere. When the manager discovered how serious John was about his religion he immediately changed his mind, telling him that he could take off at noon on Friday when he needed to and work half a day Sunday. The friendship John and his family developed with this man lasted for many years.

John and Ruth both had good jobs and they owned their house and land without debt. They lived less than a mile from an Adventist church school where their children were able to attend through the eighth grade and only a few miles from Granger, Washington, where they could attend up to the tenth grade. They covered the whole area, distributing literature about the Three Angels’ Messages and the end of the world, giving many Bible studies that resulted in baptisms; however, John was not completely satisfied; he wanted to be more directly involved in God’s work.

The hospital where he worked was not a missionary hospital, but simply a commercial community hospital, so in 1954 he accepted an invitation to become the credit manager for Madison Sanitarium, a self-supporting sanitarium and college where he himself had gone to school briefly in 1934 and 1935. The family home was sold once more and they moved to Madison, Tennessee, where they lived until 1955. During that short period of time, about 15 months, it appeared that tragedy would again strike their family. Gwen, at two years of age, was exposed to Rabies and had to have injections in her stomach for 14 days and Marshall fell from a ladder and had both a head concussion and a ruptured spleen which almost caused him to bleed to death. As ominous as these things were, an even more ominous development caused the entire family to be placed in jeopardy. Ruth developed a lung disease which the physicians said could be fatal and which, it was said, could not be cured. John and Ruth had purchased a home on an acre of land about ¾ of a mile from Madison sanitarium.

In 1955 John decided to accept an invitation from his brothers to come and manage the new nursing home in Longmont, Colorado, that they had built, so in late summer of that year John, Ruth and their three children moved there, without selling their home in Tennessee. They rented a home between Hygiene and Lyons, Colorado, on historic Highway 66 right across from McCall Lake. This move to Colorado was most rewarding and satisfying and within six weeks after moving to that dry climate, Ruth’s cough disappeared and never reappeared as long as she was in a dry climate.

The next year they built a home across the street from Foothill’s Nursing Home and four years later sold that home and moved to an 80 acre farm with a home and out buildings. This proved to be too much to manage along with a nursing home so in 1963 John built yet another home near Berthoud, about five miles from Campion Academy where all of their children graduated. John and Ruth managed Foothill’s Nursing Home until 1975 and it grew to having 180 beds and over 115 workers on the staff.

1975 saw yet another move and their home in Berthoud was sold, enabling them to purchase a small fruit orchard near Weiser, Idaho. Ruth enjoyed working with fruit trees, berries and vineyards but John did not, so the orchard was sold and another home in Nyssa, Idaho, was bought where they lived a short time before moving to Prosser, Washington. While living in Nyssa, John covered the entire area with literature about the Three Angels’ Messages and the end of the world.

From 1980 until 1992 John and Ruth lived in Prosser, Washington, on a property which had fruit and nut trees, berries and vineyards which Ruth loved to take care of. Ruth always wanted to see an agricultural program developed at Steps to Life but she did not live long enough to see that fully develop. Gardening was not the only thing to occupy Ruth and at times she also worked either full-time or part-time as a registered nurse until 1992.

Again, tragedy struck their family in 1991 when in July, John and Ruth’s second son, Marshall, together with his wife Lillian and their two children, Matthew and Christine, were all killed in a plane crash near Salmon, Idaho. It was shortly after this that they decided to move to the Wichita, Kansas area. It was there that Marshall, who was an ordained Seventh-day Adventist minister, had furthered the outreach ministry that he had started while pastoring on the east coast of the United States. At first, this ministry was conducted under the auspices of the local conference and Union Conference in mid-America, but later it became necessary to be totally independent of the organizations connected with the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists and conduct a ministry in what Ellen White described as “irregular lines.”

Ruth and John again purchased five acres of land a few miles from the Steps to Life Ministry offices. They put a modular house on it, planted fruit trees and berries and also tended the grapes that were on the property. They lived there until another tragedy hit the family. John was struck by a car and instantly killed in April of 2000. Ruth was about 50 feet away and witnessed this fatal accident.

Ruth worked in the ministry of Steps to Life in almost every department, and over the last several years she was the main receptionist, answering the telephone during business hours and responding by letter to inquiries as well as writing material for LandMarks magazine. Her heart was in the finishing of God’s work in the world. She reminded our staff over and over again about our need to pray for brotherly love for all human beings and our great need to pray for and receive the Holy Spirit. Ruth was no stranger to tragedy but this only strengthened her faith. She was looked to for counsel by people all over the world and she was often called for advice, or simply a word of encouragement.

Ruth was an astute observer about the happenings in the church among the professed people of God and also world events. She was an early riser ever since her youth when she had to have the cows milked before going to school and she studied her Bible and the writings of Ellen White every morning. She was very concerned about the state of apostasy that she saw everywhere among God’s professed people. She loved poetry and had several books of poems that she used to read. At 93 years of age she still raised a garden and baked bread every week or two as well as canning and freezing fruit every summer.

Ruth had studied nutrition on her own in order to know how best to provide her family with a healthful diet and later studied nutrition at the University of Colorado. She was well-read in the area of natural remedies, hydrotherapy, and natural treatments.

Grandma Ruth, as she was affectionately called by many, worked her last day on December 31, 2009. She will be sadly missed by all of her family as well as many others who had the privilege of associating with her. We look forward to a glad reunion with her and all others who arrive at character perfection in the very near future.

Pastor John Grosboll is Director of Steps to Life and pastors the Prairie Meadow Church in Wichita, Kansas. He may be contacted by e-mail at: historic@stepstolife.org, or by telephone at: (316) 788-5559.

Dangerous Path – Secret Protector

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As I looked out of the window, I knew I was in trouble. Two men, who I knew to be hit men, drove up in front of the little house where I lived with my little girl. I had crossed one of the leaders of a group I seemed to have become a part of and I knew my number was up. At that point I did not know God as a Father, but as a God of wrath. Still the familiar words came out, “Oh God, help me.” I watched as they got out of their car and headed toward the gate in my front yard. Time froze at that window as I watched them draw nearer; then, all of a sudden they turned quickly and headed back toward their car. My eyes looked again and, amazingly, there was my grandmother walking toward the gate of my yard. This was the first time she had ever come to my home and at just the time when I needed somebody to intervene, God did it through my grandmother. I know my life was spared.

Grandma stayed for a little while and I knew that when she left, those men would be back. I phoned my mother in Minnesota and told her that I was in real trouble. I grabbed my little girl and a few clothes and left that house never to return again. I did not know God, but He loved me even in the midst of all the filth.

After staying with Mom for a short period in Minnesota where she tried to redirect me, my brother offered that I could stay with him and his family in Idaho until I got settled. I had not yet turned my life around when we moved in with them and several weeks later my sister-in-law found some drugs on me. Before I knew it, my brother asked me to leave because they were concerned for the safety of their children. Now I had no place to go and knew nobody in that area. My little girl and I lived in my car for about two weeks. One morning a very nice lady knocked on my car window and asked me if we would like to stay in her little camper until I could find some place to live. She was concerned about my daughter. Amazing how God stepped in again!

Later, I decided to go back to my home town and ended back in with some of the old friends. One night after joining with these friends in some drugs, I lost my mind. I don’t know what happened for several hours. I was told that I just sat and stared with no response. After three hours with no improvement my friends became afraid for me and decided to take me into the hospital. I suddenly started asking for my little girl so they went and picked her up from the sitter and brought her to me. She started screaming and crying, “Mommy, Mommy!” Suddenly I snapped out of it and immediately realized how close I had come to insanity and even death. I cried and squeezed my daughter. Looking back now I know that God had put her into my life especially for that moment. I am amazed how often God stepped in.

After that experience, needless to say, I quit drugs, but still had not changed anything else in my life.drug

God had another plan for me. Shortly afterward my brother and his family were in a horrific car accident. His wife and eldest daughter were killed instantly but my brother and the youngest were still alive. I immediately caught a flight to see him though it was only to be for a few minutes. He was unable to talk because of the tubes down his throat and up his nose. Oh! What a mess! I told him I loved him and I know that when he reached out and touched me, that he loved me also. I told him I would be back in later but I never saw him alive again, as he died.

Oh, I was heartsick and blamed God. I believed that my brother was in heaven so I tried to contact him. He never answered, so I thought I needed to become a witch and then I could contact him. I picked up witchcraft books and started incantations, etc. Oh my; I look back now and see how God had His hand over me again and I did not even know it.

Finally, I came back to reality and considered what my brother would have wanted me to do with my life. The first thing I did was to quit where I was working because it was not a nice place and my brother never did approve of me being there. I went back to school for training and ended up working in law offices. Had it not been for my brother’s death, I would not be here because the thought of changing my life had not occurred before this. God truly works in mysterious ways. He knew that was the only way He could get my attention—through my brother’s death.

As I started working in my new field, I fitted in well with the lawyers and I was outspoken, etc. After several years, I received a flyer from a friend advertising a healthful cooking class. Since I had not been feeling well, I decided to attend. I thoroughly enjoyed it as it was a most wonderful and informative class. On the last night we were asked to fill out a card and to check whether or not we wanted Bible studies. I do not know why I checked yes, but I did. Amazing how the Spirit works!

On the first night of the arranged Bible studies something happened that changed my life. Jesus was presented to me in such a way that I broke down in tears. What a loving Savior. I thought of all those wasted years that I did not know Him and His Father.

I now had such a yearning to learn more of my Savior. I was so diligent in studying and I went the extra mile and read the Spirit of Prophecy. I just could not keep myself away from the Word of God and Spirit of Prophecy and I gave my heart and my all to God and His Son, Jesus Christ.

I look back and can see God’s hand in protecting me in so many instances. Behold what manner of love He had for me, a sinner—a chief of sinners. Now I am truly free in Him.

The law office where I worked soon noticed the change in me. They even quit cursing, etc., around me—it was a totally different atmosphere that was created.

God had a plan for me, but first He had to get my attention. Now He had my attention and my dad came down with cancer. I was able to share with him about the love of Jesus and before he died, he said he gave his heart to Jesus.

Early one morning while studying, God moved upon my heart to move to Minnesota. I said, “No Lord, not Minnesota.” But the impression was so strong to go tell the remaining family what God had done in my life.

I moved, and the first couple of years were rough because they all thought I was a member of a cult. Mom started having strokes so I stayed with her in the evenings. I would get her tucked in and go out and spend time reading and singing. She would come out and ask me why I was always so happy and humming. I was always singing Scripture songs in my heart. I would say it was Jesus; do you want to hear about Him? She would say no. One night I was spending time with God and He so impressed me to go back and tell Mom about Jesus, and I said, “No Lord, she does not want to hear about Him.” But the Lord kept moving upon my heart, so I went back and I said, “Momma, do you want to hear about Jesus?” Amazingly she said yes, so I sat her up and we talked. That was the first time I had ever prayed with Momma. Those were very special moments. The next morning she had a massive stroke.

Did God have a plan for my life? Yes, and if I had not followed, many would not have heard about Jesus. My sister has now given her heart to the Lord. God has saved me from much and now He is working through me to touch others.

I am so thankful for a God who loved me before I knew Him. I am so thankful for a God who protected me from the Devil’s wrath that was trying to destroy me. I praise God for the life He has given me and I treasure each moment.

I look back and I know why Grandma showed up at my gate that day. It was the only time she had been there. It was because God loved me and had plans for my life. I look back and I can see God’s hand of protection over me. I know why all those things happened and there are many more experiences I could share. I can honestly say that truly, I “know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified. What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?” Romans 8:28–31.

Because He lives, I live and I can face tomorrow with joy in my heart. He has predestined me for a high calling and I choose to follow Him because He first loved me. Truly, if God be for us, who can be against us (Romans 8:31)? God has saved me from much. He has given me a life and I have returned it to Him for His use and for His glory.

“Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies.” Psalm 103:1-–4.

Judy Hallingstad is on the LandMarks team. She can be contacted by email at: judyhallingstad@stepstolife.org.

Rescued in Time

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This is a true testimony of my life. In all I have learned one thing:

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”
Jeremiah 29:11.

I was born about 23 years ago in a remote village in the western part of Kenya. Should I say that I was lucky to be born into a middle well-off family? No, I wasn’t lucky; better to be born in Garisa (a town so dry and arid there is NO farming).

At the age of 7 years, my mother passed away while undergoing an operation in one of the hospitals in Kenya. Why just Mum? This is a question to which I have never got the answer. I loved her so much more than Dad because Daddy was a very harsh man.

Secondly, Mum always called me Papa, meaning her father, as I had inherited my grandfather’s name. Before her death I never knew anything about it nor imagined what would happen when someone died. On receiving the message of her death—never to see her again, I never stopped crying—it haunted me a lot! I developed very low self-esteem for I lost my mother, somebody close to me, the one who loved me.

Marriage in Kenya depends on a man’s wealth. A poor man will often stay single or have one wife, but being rich even makes some devoted Christians fall into polygamy. After Mum passed away, several other mamas replaced her and as I talk now, three still survive, each of them struggling for a portion of that wealth for themselves and their children.

I thank God that He made me a bright student in all of my education levels. This did not please my family members because jealousy has been the order of the day. No house wants the other to prosper. That disadvantaged me even more as I lacked someone—my Mum—to have a direct say for me to my father.

Although with a lot of difficulty convincing Mzee—father—to pay school fees, I managed to get the Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education Examination (KCSE) in 2004, passing with a grade B plain grade which is above the required level of C+ to qualify for university entry.

Do you think things worked well for me after this? No! Matters became even worse. This education level cannot secure you a good job anywhere. You must be a graduate. One of my stepmothers proposed that I go and search for a job in Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya. Yes, it is a thought, but many Kenyans hang out there jobless, though they even hold degrees, but in fields where no employment is available.

In September 2009, I had applied for an admission at KCA University in Nairobi. Having paid a registration fee of $560.00 U.S. dollars plus another $2,000 for tuition and examination fees for the first year to their examination body with the money I received for being a polling clerk in the 2007 general elections in Kenya, my family totally refused to support me with any additional expenses. Totally refused! In this earthly kingdom, fortunate are they who have mothers, for then they have someone to promote their case and their grievances shall be heard by their fathers. My family then decided to corrupt the whole issue more than not advancing my studies; five years ago, my younger sister was allowed to take my position. Why? Why? Only that she had a mother to push her case while I was left behind.

These past years have been very difficult for me without hope, without an education and without family who cared about me. I sank so low that I decided to leave and lose my life in River Yala. On that day I was tired in my heart, but on my way to the river I remembered a verse I had read from one of the Christian magazines quoted from Mark 8:36: “For what shall it benefit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Contemplating that day how students at times die in road accidents just days before their graduations and some men and women get sick and lose their health and die suddenly leaving their homes and everything, I convinced myself that all of these things have no benefits anyway; life is so uncertain. I should win my own soul today, but what then? There was still nothing to look forward to in this life. The battle continued as the two sides raged in my head. Die, because you may convince yourself that life will get better for now, but troubles still wait for you—no university studies, eat at someone’s mercy, the continued burden of stress. O Lord, Ah! No! Seek refuge from a country far from your home? Then what? I felt that going with the water was the only option for me—be eaten by klate animals and in all, forgotten! After all, who was there to miss me; who was there who would care? I had no one, so I thought, but I was oblivious to the unseen Watcher who saw and knew all.

Praise the Lord! God performed a miracle just at the right time when I could not sink any lower. A sound was being heard from far off. What was it? As I got nearer to the river, the louder and clearer it became. The message from those loud speakers* started attracting my attention. It was a Saturday! “Karibu tufurahi Sabato.” Welcome to a happy Sabbath were the words I heard from a distance of about three kilometers on the other side of the river. I decided to stop and listen to the music first. I enjoyed it so much that I walked toward its direction. At last I came to the source of the music and found that it was coming from what looked like somebody’s home. I thought, Is this a church or someone’s home where the family is just trying to enjoy life with music? I passed by the home, not entering, being respectful of private property and then sat down just behind the fence. (Due to earlier family differences and traditions, conducting church in someone’s private home hinders many villages to attend services in Bunyore.)

One young man coming from the other way on that pathway noticed me from a distance that I was really enjoying the music and approached me, giving me a warm handshake welcoming me to the Sabbath. “Do you know me?” I asked. The man said no, but he was just trying to invite me in. I was convinced to enter the home. Oh, it was a church in someone’s home!

I was welcomed with much love and when I testified what I was just going through at that time and my intention to end my life, Evangelist Jeremiah Otemo immediately ran to his house to bring several Bible literature books and quoted the verses that were written for the last days, parents refusing their own children.

After the Sabbath they did not allow me to go. I stayed with them for some days and on my departure, I was given a Bible and other Christian literature books to influence me more. Since that day, I visit them every two Sabbaths each month, as I stay about 28 kms from the home church. I am now fully observing, among others, the fourth commandment, keeping the Sabbath whether at college in Kisumu or at my new home (Jeremiah’s). I enjoy sharing with others the love of (1 John 4:8) God, attending Sabbath school and reading the gospel literature which keeps me busy in research for my vision of authoring and publishing books. I am ready to be sent anywhere for the Lord’s work, even far to share with other perishing souls what the Lord can do while eagerly waiting to meet the Messiah at His second coming to take us to our rest. I get hope in doing it.

Pray for the work in Kenya that shifting the church to the new site (see 1st quarter, 2010 mission offering) will be a reality soon to encourage other villagers to attend and receive the Sabbath blessing.

Do not give up, for the Lord has something special for you. Jesus said to go and call your friends and family and tell them about Me (John 4:16). His nature, His law is love. It ever has been and ever will be. Amen.

*Evangelism in Africa is often carried out by erecting horn speakers that broadcast all over the village. Each Sabbath at Bunyore, Evangelist Jeremiah Otemo plays sacred music at the beginning of the Sabbath, welcoming the village to the Sabbath. Sabbath services are also broadcast over the speakers for all to receive the blessing.

It was during the December 2009 visit to Kenya that Sandra Mulchin asked Nobert to write his testimony for LandMarks after meeting him. The story of his rescue from despair and his determination to follow the Lord has touched hearts. Through the providence of God, Nobert is now able to attend the Kisumu campus of the University of Kenya where he is continuing his studies in accounting (this course chosen due to high demand for qualified accountants). He is praising the Lord that where he had no hope, God has given him hope. He is now witnessing for Jesus at the university and when school is out he helps Jeremiah Otemo with the project in Bunyore. At last this young man has found the family he has been looking for since his mother’s death—the family of God, and now patiently waits to be reunited with his loved mother at the first resurrection. It is my privilege and honor to be called Mum Sandra.

Testimony – Willie’s Story

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I was born in 1913 in Berlin. At the time, my father had a dairy that he sold to purchase a one hundred-acre farm in Silesia, East Germany. I completed the required eighth grade education and at the age of 18, after receiving Bible studies, I was baptized into the Seventh-day Adventist Church. My first job was in a glass factory and my wages were 18 marks for a 48-hour week. I also worked for a construction company on the highway.

In January 1933, Adolf Hitler took power in Germany, which forever changed our lives.

In 1935, I married, and four years later, at age 26, I was drafted into the German army as a medic located in Freistadt, Eastern Germany. When the war started, my regiment was sent from Poland to France to Luxembourg to Belgium and the Vogesen Mountains before returning to Germany. When the German army surprisingly attacked Russia and drove toward Stalingrad and Moscow in 1941, I was there where winter temperatures dropped to 40 degrees below zero. The following year, I was assigned to another infantry division and promoted to Sergeant. In January 1943, I was wounded in the town Ischium, Russia, and was assigned to a reserve medical corps in France. Because the bullet was stopped by my pocketknife, I only received a flesh wound that soon healed. Three months later, on returning to active duty in Russia, I found out what a blessing I had received in that flesh wound, as my whole division had been wiped out at Stalingrad. God works in such mysterious ways!

Once I was in a foxhole and shot at by a Russian tank. The round exploded under a pile of loose sand about three feet behind us but only threw a little sand on us. If the sand had not been there, we all would have been killed. My new company was being transferred to a new location by train boxcar. The soldiers were in the middle of the car with horses on either end separated by rope. One night the horses ate the bread I was to have for breakfast. Three times I requested a replacement but was refused each time. As I turned around in the dark I kicked something and as I reached down I found a bigger piece of bread than the horse had eaten.

I was wounded again in Russia while trying to patch up wounded soldiers and was taken by hospital train to Western Germany where I spent 103 days in hospital before returning back to active service in Russia. Again I was wounded, hit by two bullets in the upper right leg, missing the bone and veins, so I was able to patch myself up and used two broomsticks to walk to the doctor.

It was near the end of the war and it was survival time. Germany was in ruins and I had to find my wife and four children who had fled from the east to Western Germany. I wrote a letter to my wife’s aunt in Berlin and asked the whereabouts of my family and found out that the Germans who had lived in East Prussia had all fled. In an abandoned house I found a Bible; I took it in my hand and asked God, “What is going on?” I opened the Bible to Isaiah 24:1: “Behold, the Lord maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof.” I was put on a civilian wagon and was driven over a frozen bay about three miles, because the Russians had captured the highways. Two days later thousands of people drowned when the ice broke. The hospital train took me to Rudolfstad in Eastern Germany and then with the Russians coming always closer, I was sent to Hanzing in Bavaria, Germany. One minute before I left, I received a letter that my wife and children had fled to Bavaria, Southern Germany. Several weeks later when the American Army arrived in Bavaria I had to go into prison camp, but I was only there for three days and nights. That last night it rained and was so cold that I walked around in the barbed wire enclosure all night in an effort to keep warm. That next morning I was released; the war was over, and I could walk without crutches.

From Bavaria we moved to Lower Saxony, Western Germany, where I worked the next seven years on a large farm. We barely had enough to eat and almost all of our clothes were hand-me-downs. Thus we decided to seek a sponsor from the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists and immigrate to the United States of America. In 1952 we left Germany on an old United States Army troop ship, the General R.M. Blatchford, and arrived with six children, ranging in age from 14 years to 1 ½ years old, in the New York Harbor on April 21, 1952. It was Sunday, the first day of the week and the first day of our lives as Americans!

The Nazi Empire had lasted only 12 years even though Hitler had wanted to inaugurate a 1,000-year Reich or Empire. At the end of the war, I heard that of 13 local men who were drafted, only three had survived. Those three happened to be Seventh-day Adventist Christians—a neighborhood friend, my brother Rudi and me. Truly God’s angels had protected us in the worst war of the 20th Century. The inspired words of Moses in Psalm 91:7–12, 14–16 come to mind: “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. If you make the Most High your dwelling—even the Lord, who is my refuge—then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. … ‘Because he loves me,’ says the Lord, ‘I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.’ ” (NIV)

At the time of this writing, I am 90 years of age and I long for the coming of the Kingdom of Jesus Christ. This will be when the gospel is preached in all the world (Matthew 24:14). Join me in looking for this new world without war or sin to ruin it. “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’ Then he said, ‘Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true’ ” (Revelation 21:1, 3–5, NIV). This Kingdom of Jesus Christ lasts forever and you are invited to join it. “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved—you and your household” (Acts 16:31, NIV).

Submitted by Willie’s daughter, Heidi (Kowarsch) McFarland. She can be contacted by email at: heidihoho@charter.net.

Testimony – Holes in the Heart

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There are many empty spaces found in each one’s heart. They are not holes in the ground or holes in torn fabric but holes in lives caused by loneliness, sorrow, depression, illness, or perhaps some cherished sin eating away the texture of the soul. The result is often to dwell on those problems and, in the process, become pawns of Satan by looking away from Jesus.

I know about these deadly holes because there was a time in my life when all I could think about was how lonely and desperate I felt. I did not seem to fit in like those around me who had an active social and dating life, and I was unhappy because my life was lacking in these activities.

I was born and raised in a loving and secure Seventh-day Adventist home. I was given a fine Christian education in a Seventh-day Adventist school during grades 1–12. This environment helped me appreciate the value of Christian living. I remember hearing a Week of Prayer sermon at the academy stressing the idea that in order to be a success in this life, three things should be given top priority. The first was to choose to follow God; the second was to choose a life profession; and the third was to choose the appropriate life mate. This made a big impression on me that I never forgot. I just assumed that all of these things would fall into place.

I never dreamed that problems would arise to derail any plans.

From the age of ten I had become an avid piano student, which eventually enabled me to study in a conservatory of music following graduation from the academy. My goal was to become a concert pianist and college professor and to somehow use this knowledge in God’s work.

During my time at this music school, I discovered that the lonely life of the dedicated musician was not for me. This was underscored by the fact that I could not participate in the dating and other social activities that my musician friends enjoyed, as my Seventh-day Adventist lifestyle prohibited such. I became disenchanted with my life goals, and I left the conservatory to return home and evaluate my situation.

I now realized that God had other plans for my life. I fell into the hole of disappointment, which deepened through my lack of trust in my Saviour. I was one of His lost sheep, and I failed to recognize His longsuffering love for me. All I could see was loneliness, and I was drowning in self-pity. My prayer life was weak, and I did not take time to study God’s Word. I was in the pit of disbelief, and I fell into Satan’s trap, making me think that God no longer loved me.

I am sad to admit that my life took a dreadful turn away from God, because I left the faith and became cynical and bitter in my failure to succeed as I had originally planned.

My parents never failed to pray for me regardless of my sinful lifestyle, which had become such that I no longer observed the Sabbath and had married an unbeliever. I could write a book about all of the problems that I faced as a result of my choice to explore the pigpen of this world’s attractions, but I would now rather tell you of His power to save a wretched soul like me. Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8), and if He was able to bring me back to His fold, He can save anybody!

My marriage went up in smoke. I became disabled due to an auto-immune disease. But regardless of these experiences, I have found that the only lasting and real success in this life is in giving my life fully to Jesus for His care and safekeeping.

No plan we set for ourselves will succeed unless under the direction of the God of heaven. He has made it His purpose to fill the holes in our life with His matchless mercy and love.

Dear reader, just remember this admonition: “Trustful dependence on Jesus makes victory not only possible, but certain.” The Signs of the Times, January 3, 1906.

Linda Marie Gordon worked for a number of years as a medical transcriber. She is now disabled and lives with her widowed mother in Tehachapi, California. She can be contacted by calling 661- 822–9024.