by Sis. Evelyn Hartman

As I search my heart, I now realize that it all began at about the age of 10. There was a knock at the door and I overheard my father saying that he and mom were not interested in what the gentleman at the door had to offer, but it would be o.k. for me and my sister to go to the little chapel down the road. You see, he was a man of God, out searching for lost souls with a special invitation to come to the little non-denominational chapel to hear about Jesus. My sister and I up until then had not heard about Jesus or God, but on the following Sunday she and I walked very hesitantly the quarter-mile to that small chapel. My memories of that experience are vague, but I realize now that it was the beginning, the planting of a seed. I know now that there were those praying for us within that tiny chapel. From my recollection, we attended that small house of God for about three years or so. Except for the bible given to me by a visiting missionary, its memory vanished from my mind for some time to come.

As the years passed, I would say that I led what I imagine would be considered a “normal” life. I eventually found the man with whom I wanted to share my life. We married in 1970, bought our first house and over the next four years were blessed with two beautiful sons. Caught up in the busyness of work, raising a family, taking care of our home, etc., we didn’t think of or have a need for God in our lives. But as our lives together continued, like in all marriages, we experienced some difficult times. Just about the time that I felt the joy of our married life together fading, and the things of this world becoming less appealing and satisfying, I was extended an invitation by a neighbor to visit her church. Feeling desperately that something was missing in my life, that there had to be more to life than what we were living, I accepted the invitation. The boys and I began attending that Baptist church on a regular basis, for Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday evening services. I remember the Sunday morning when I, with tears streaming down my face, responded to the altar call at the end of the service by walking down the isle and publicly confessing Jesus as my Savior, inviting Him into my heart. This was the start of something new in my life, and I was excited and had a fresh love in my heart.

After a couple years had gone by, my husband determined that he would go to church also. Not wanting to attend a Baptist church, he suggested we attend a Methodist church. So, for many years to come and after the boys were raised and left home to be married, we continued to attend this same church. Through the years I had experienced periods of what I would express as being a longing of my heart, an emptiness and a restlessness, and again that feeling that there had to be more to this life than what we were living. This overwhelming void in my heart sent me searching ... let me say, that I wasn’t even sure what I was searching for, but there was such a lack of peace and contentment within me that I had to search for the answer. Many times I felt as if there was something wrong with me, that perhaps I would never find a place of peaceful rest. My husband and I had been married many years now, we had our health, two terrific sons and were blessed with two wonderful daughter-in-laws, with the hope of eventually having beautiful grandchildren, but here I was seeking after something that I couldn’t even describe. At this point it was beyond me to understand, but my church became so dry and lifeless that it was adding to the heaviness I was experiencing. My attendance became sporadic - it didn’t matter whether I went or not, and sometimes I even felt worse after going. I had no denominational barriers, so I began to travel from church to church.

Week after week I would drive onto the parking lot of a “different” church, enter through another new door, looking for something to fill the aching in my heart. I visited so many different churches, some for weeks, some for a few months, but still, the emptiness --- where was this love, joy and peace that I’d heard so much about? My frustration increased and continued, week after week, month after month and then eventually year after year. In-between I would go back and visit the original church of my membership. The only person that was privy to my dilemma was my sister, Gail (who lives five hours away in the mountains of Monterey, Virginia). One Sunday afternoon in December 1996, Gail called me with an incredible excitement in her voice. It seems that she had been invited to attend a local church and on this particular Sunday was baptized in the Spirit and could speak in tongues. Although I had no idea of what this meant, I did realize that it was a source of real joy to her, and though happy for her, I was also envious that she sounded so happy and I still so miserable. She at that time mentioned that I should be reassured of finding what I was seeking after, as she and several of her church friends were praying for me. I knew she had good intentions, but really never gave it much thought.

Several months passed...it was the Saturday before Easter 1997...and while retrieving the mail I found a leaflet laying in the driveway by the box. It was an invitation to attend Easter services at a church I had never heard of or seen in my travels, and it wasn’t even too far away. Something stirred in my heart...it felt as if a ray of sunshine had entered therein, instilling hope that had been lost. Easter was out of the question as my mother-in-law was visiting and we were all going to the Methodist church together that day. I immediately put the leaflet in my purse for safe-keeping. Early Monday morning I called the Christian Revival Center and spoke to Pastor Curry, who extended a personal invitation, and then the wait began til Sunday.

Upon entering the church, I was greeted and took a minute to complete a visitor’s card. As I walked into the sanctuary, I was keenly aware that this was a “different” kind of church than those I had visited in the past. There was clapping as they sang with the music, some had raised hands in praise to the Lord. Each time visiting a new church there was the apprehension of never knowing quite what to expect, but this time there really was “something different”. There was a Spirit of rejoicing and unity and the message presented was the Word of God. Then there was that altar call, where the congregation was invited to come to the altar for prayer...why did the whole church body go forward...did they expect me to do that? Don’t think so.....so not understanding, and feeling peculiar, my best recourse was to flee. As I left that place that day, I knew I’d be back. As a matter of fact, I could hardly stand the wait.

The following Sunday, April 13, 1997, is permanently etched in my heart as it was the beginning of a journey that is beyond explanation until and unless you’ve experienced it yourself! On that Sunday, my second visit, I noticed the unity of praise and worship, which was again followed by an invitation to pray at the altar. Then the most incredibly amazing thing happened....I found myself with uplifted arms just thanking Jesus over and over again, and as a brother in the church prayed with me and laid his hand on my head, I was filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in tongues. That “fire of desire” has been burning within me ever since and I continually long for a closer walk with my Lord and Savior. I have such an awareness of the presence of the Lord...I was blind, but now I see...HE has opened the eyes of my understanding (Eph 1:17-19).

I’m not super educated and my vocabulary may be limited, but you know what, I’ve found out that our God doesn’t care about that, He just wants us to come humbly before Him in prayer with praise and thankfulness, seeking after Him with all our heart. Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you (Matt. 7:7). Prayer is our direct line to our Holy Father; oh, how He loves us to commune with Him.

Let me share with you just one answer to prayer I have received from our Holy Glorious Lord. He delivered me from my nicotine addiction of some 30 years. I had tried for years to quit that filthy habit, but nothing had a long-term affect....but on November 6, 1997, Jesus set me free forever from it’s powerful grip on me. I shall continually praise His Name! I was too weak, but I now know that all things are possible with HIM - if I rely on His strength and His power.

I am living a new life now as a new creature. The Lord, in His perfect way, has brought me into a place that I didn’t even know existed - a place of truth, a place of liberty (where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty), and He has put within me something more precious than anything this world could ever offer -His Holy Spirit.