Depths of Pentecost
  • Blog
  • Videos
  • Archives
  • Receive Salvation
  • About
  • Contact

My Testimony: Part 1

1/9/2016

3 Comments

 
By Philip Cottraux

We look back over our lives and divide them into different eras.  From childhood to teenage years to adulthood and finally becoming old, life is a dizzying cacophony of memories, both good and bad.  Successes and failures pave the way, molding and shaping us into who we will eventually become.  We may identify particular life ages with a different feeling that seemed to hang over us at all times. 

But in reality, if I could go back in time and relive one day from my past, I would feel nothing.  I may be standing in a garden, with a mountain looming in the distance, the blue sky silently surrounding the world, and the only music coming from the singing birds and the scratchy bluegrass spilling out of an old radio far away, and the wind that shakes the trees.

One of my earliest memories is one such environment, sitting in my grandmother’s lap in a swing under an apple tree.  I can remember giggling with excitement as she held up my hands and taught me to sing to Jesus.

It was a world that seems now like a bygone era, when everything was bigger and grander, when tastes were stronger and sounds were louder and colors were brighter.  And everything was more innocent, yet somehow scarier.  It is a world that seems to fade further and further into the fog of memories until it one day may be gone forever.

My mother was the first Pentecostal in a Baptist-raised family.  Before I was born, every Sunday she would sneak down to a tiny Assembly of God Church on the corner of the downtown in Stone Mountain, Georgia.  It was a new experience for her; she herself put it this way in the comments sections of one of my past blog (Everyone Yielding to the Holy Ghost, Part 1):

“The Holy Ghost is near and dear to my heart. I was raised Baptist until I discovered the Holy Ghost when I was around 12 or 13. I had a longing for a deeper walk with God as I grew up, but I didn't know what it was. When I began experiencing the power of God, I knew this was it…When I received all of this in the early 90's, I remember one of my first thoughts was "WOW, now I know why Christians can stay in church and sit for hours, why they can sing over and over, why they study the Word, why they feel the way they do...etc."

For me, however, despite having been to many Baptist services as a child, the Pentecostal experience stretches far back into my earliest memories.  I have always heard people speak in tongues, and have seen so many miracles and healings that I could never write enough books to contain them all.

I remember from an early age having God explained to me.  He is invisible, yet He created each and every one of us.  We can’t see Him but He sees us and knows everything we’re thinking at all times.  He knows about us always, yet we know so little about Him. 

If this being described to me as a child brought any skepticism, it was dispelled by the tantalizing idea that He gave us one thing to prove Himself to us.  We have in our possession a book that He wrote, where He reveals all of His mysteries, and it’s up to us to study it and know Him better.  It contains all of the secrets of the universe, yet the more we read it, the more we are stirred by its mystery.  It is a puzzle that can never quite be put together, and yet that’s what draws us to it. 

I remember my mother reading me illustrated Bible stories in bed every night, imprinting the stories of the Word in my mind, never to be forgotten.  Even before I could read, I would take the big intimidating Holy Book and thumb through its vast pages, only imagining what the words said and the enigmas that awaited me when I was old enough to understand it.

But darkness was coming.

In the first grade, I was diagnosed with a learning disability that prevented me from getting good grades or doing well in most classes.  I usually struggled to pay attention and often daydreamed during tests.

I did, however, develop a lifelong love of writing, discovering that composing words was my true gift.  I usually excelled in English, literature, and history, but failed miserably in math and science.

On top of this, I had very poor social skills and didn’t fit in well with other kids.  I would often approach groups of students and try to make friends, but because of my awkward nature this was usually met with disdain.  Sometimes at lunch I would go around from table to table, trying to find people to sit with, but having food thrown at me every time until I would eventually give up and sit alone at an empty table. 

It only got worse as I got older.  By middle school, I fit the textbook definition of geekiness.  I was ugly with over-sized, crooked teeth, severe acne and huge glasses.  Years of bullying had made me withdrawn, but by that age, they were merciless.  Despite wanting to be left alone, I was a constant victim of cruelty.  Almost every day, I was slapped, kicked, beaten, spit on, and had garbage thrown at me.  Riding the bus to and from school was like stepping down into Hell as the kids would scream profanities in my ear, call me filthy disgusting names, steal my things, and stab me with pencils.  I would gaze up at the puke yellow ceiling, looking at the emergency escape hatch and dreaming that the Lord would return at any moment, leaving my tormentors behind.

School itself was no better, and I can remember very few, if any times that anyone ever came to my defense.  The teachers never did anything about it; if anything, some of them (especially sadistic gym coaches) joined in on it. 

I have seen the darker side of humanity.  No matter far I’ve come, I’m always acutely aware of how cruel humans can be.  I’ve seen the festering underbelly that is the public school system and the sexual torment behind closed doors that the out-of-touch administrators want to pretend doesn’t happen.  I’ve been in the bathrooms, having garbage thrown at me from outside the stalls.  I’ve stepped outside, only to be grabbed by mobs of bullies who dragged me to a toilet and tried to dunk my head in.  I’ve braced myself with my hands on urine-soaked seats, desperately trying to keep myself up while these vile monsters tried to force me in.  And my only comfort is in knowing that it wasn’t really them who were tormenting me, but the devil in them.

Many have asked me why I didn’t do anything about it, even going so far as to accusing me of being at fault for my lack of action.  My first response is that the first time I ever told on bullies for teasing me, I got in trouble for being a “tattle-tell.”  I soon learned that the teachers, or even principals, would never help me no matter how much I pleaded.  Bullying by its very nature makes one feel inferior.  Like many other children, I didn’t tell on my tormentors for the same reason battered wives defend their abusive husbands; my low sense of self-worth convinced me that “I deserve it” or “It’s not so bad.”  Victims of domestic abuse will cover up their spouses’ behavior with “He’s not such a bad person,” still refusing to leave despite the bruises and broken bones they suffer.  “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

By the 4th grade, I began showing early signs of my lifelong struggle with obsessive compulsive disorder.  Depression and anxiety created voices in my head that would relentlessly force me into self-destructive habits.  For breakfast, I would eat my bowl of Trix by separating the colors.  I would twist my hair habitually, sometimes to the point where it would rip out and leave bald spots (just leading to more teasing at school).  I would pick at my fingers and lips until they bled.  These compulsive habits were merely attempts to distract myself from what I felt at all times; a sense of constant, unbearable pain.

And, through very unfortunate circumstances that are no one’s fault, my family was out of church during most of this time.  While I was raised strictly Pentecostal (another thing I was ridiculed at school for), the area where we lived had no real Bible-believing churches around.  Occasionally, we would find independent so-called holiness churches, but this would usually only last a few weeks before the pastors would preach false doctrine, and we would never grace their doorsteps again.

While strongly believing the Word, these were dark days.  There was no church involvement, and I never grew up in any youth group with any Christian support, leaving me to fight my spiritual battles alone.  The only small taste of God I would get would be a few times a year, when my family would make long treks out-of-state to attend camp meetings.

This, this was what I knew I was missing in life.  I would see crowds gathered to praise God in true worship.  I would see miracles and the glory of God shining on the faces of His saints as they sang and prayed.  And with that joy unspeakable, we would gather and fellowship at restaurants after late-night services.

Those precious times were so fleeting, and the long voyage home would plunge me back into the suffocating loneliness.

It is quite profound that I would only get to feel the true anointing of God only a few times a year.  Like Abraham, who would occasionally encounter God in between years of wondering in a dry wilderness, I yearned for that experience.  And now, like the Early Church apostles, I never take that power being poured out in abundance for granted.  I am only all-too familiar with how it feels to go long periods of time lacking the presence of God.

Those camp meetings were like candles, a bright burning flame that lasts for a short period of time before being almost snuffed out by the darkness.  But God saw to it that my light never went out completely.

Looking back, I never knew it, but through it all, He was there.  Even in my worst of times, His Spirit was there.  I couldn’t feel Him, but now looking back, I somehow see His invisible hand, guiding me all the way.

My first encounter with salvation was probably around age 13.  At a camp meeting years ago, I finally started to grasp the idea that God had sent His only Son to die for our sins, and that His blood was the only thing that could save us.  My memory is a bit fuzzy, but this is likely the first time I said the sinner’s prayer, feeling a commitment to change my life and serve Him with a passion.  This was also when I first experienced the Baptism of the Holy Ghost.  I had sought it for a long time before the first words I uttered under the influence of the Spirit.  I was in a vast auditorium, sitting in my seat when it fell and maybe the first time unknown tongues escaped me, my lips began to burn like they were on fire.  I wasn’t aware of the Acts 2:4, and had no knowledge of the tongue of fire that I was experiencing.  And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.

This transformation took place over the summer, and when I returned to school for the 8th grade I felt a determination to witness to the people who had been my tormentors.  I tried to talk about God and what He’d done for me, but didn’t realize the world of opposition this would bring.  I even remember being sent to the principal’s office for “talking about God in public school,” and being warned that this “isn’t the place for it.” 

But they couldn’t shut me up, and they still can’t.
3 Comments
Jack M
1/9/2016 08:31:06 am

Very powerful testimony Philip. Thanks for sharing it with us.

Reply
Susan Cottraux
1/9/2016 08:43:50 am

You were bullied the same reason I was--we were chosen by God. Your dad was also bullied. It doesn't make it any easier to hear that, but when you look back in your life, you understand. The devil knows the chosen ones. The devil tried to take my life when you were born. The devil tried to take my life when I was two years old and he tried again to kill me when you were not even a year old. He didn't want you to grow up and be the champion for God you are now. He didn't want you to have a mother full of the Holy Ghost. God protected you through all of it. He also protected you from false doctrine from other churches. I am so sorry you suffered; but it has been the making of you. I suffered terribly growing up as well, but I would never have had the compassion for people I have now if I had not gone through those horrible things. The Lord allows things to happen to us so we can be all He wants us to be. I would have not chosen the horrible things that have happened in my life; but it gave me an unbelievable determination to overcome all things through Jesus Christ. I can do all things through Jesus Christ who strengthens me. Jesus is calling today to all--will you go all the way? Will it be yielding to me for the rest of your life? I suffered all things for you, will you suffer them for me?
It isn't recorded how Jesus grew up, but he could have been bullied. He certainly was bullied by the high priests and his own town. They spit on him, they mocked him. I love his sacrifice for me! Am I willing to suffer? Nothing could ever compare to His suffering.

Reply
Sarah-Ann
2/3/2017 09:39:21 am

Philip,
You are not alone. You have been chosen and therefore been picked on by the enemy the whole time because he knows that you will never not give up obeying God's will and destiny He has set for you. The devil seeks to destroy those that are actually effective in building Gods kingdom. My heart was broken reading your testimony and I can only relate in a small way. Ever since I have grown closer with my walk with God, I keep facing persecution at my workplace even when I give it my all and work so hard comparing to everyone else and still get a bad evaluation. I even prayed and show compassion to those who persecute me and yet they still choose to persecute me. I even tried standing up to them about their unfair treatment of me and brought them to HR and still it got worse. I did this only because I need to be the peacemaker and not the peacekeeper. I didn't want to see it to another person working in my place in the near future and treated the way I was treated. All I could do was pray for God's protection and His strength for me to carry on. I thought about Jesus when He was constantly persecuted without fault and He just took it all in and even asked father to forgive them when He took his last breath as He took all of humanity's sins. That picture depicts true love.
I am glad and relieved that I am no longer at my workplace which has caused me so much pain but I knew I had to use that time for God to build my character to be more Christlike and to push my faith a notch higher. I am still so much more in love with Jesus and know deep in my heart that He is always faithful and loves me and has awesome plans for me.
I also learnt that when God might seem quiet during troubled times, it could be a testing period to see if I will still trust and choose Him when He is not answering my plea the way I want Him to. I am a follower of Christ because of who He is and not what I can get from Him.
Thank u for sharing!!! I Love your story. Keep on doing what you are doing because it changes hearts and reminds the world that the God we worship is bigger than any of our problems and if God is for us, who can be against us?

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Picture

    Author

    Philip Cottraux is a Pentecostal Bible teacher, writer, and author.  He has a passion for educating people about the Bible and challenging them to grow closer to God.  His mission is to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ by combating the spiritual lukewarmth plaguing today's church.

    New blogs are up every Saturday!

    Recommended Sites:
    Psalm8110.com

    Cerebral Faith
    LorilynRoberts.com
    SteveSimms
    OneBody.Life
    TheBiblicalElevator
    TheBookofWorks.com
    HolyFireMinistries

    Christian-Apologist.com
    Ladyapologist.com

    Archives

    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015

    Categories

    All
    Bible; Pentecost; Pentecostalism; Revival; Christ; Christianity
    Christ
    Christianity
    Creationism
    Evangelism
    God
    Holy Ghost
    Holy Spirit
    Pentecost
    Pentecostalism
    Revival
    Word
    Word Of God

    RSS Feed

Web Hosting by iPage
✕