Testimonies

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Wendell Lowe

I  was born August 8, 1927 in Waterbury, Vermont, just three months before  the 1927 flood. Dad was loosely connected to the Advent Christian  Church in the village of Colbyville. Mother made sure we went every  chance we got. Godly pastors who served the church were a help in  steering us to a faith in Christ.

Either  January 1937 or 38, an evangelist, Rev White from England, spoke at the  Wesley United Methodist Church in Waterbury on our need for Christ in  our lives. I cannot remember exactly what he said, but about twelve of  us went forward to ask Christ into our lives.  

I  looked the same when I came out of church, but there was a big  difference in my life afterward—not perfect by any means—but changed.  From then on, people in the church contributed to my spiritual growth -  Pastors Stone, Wolcott, Dyer, and Bryant and Sunday school teachers,  Merrill Powers, Mrs. Homer and Clement Allen. Mr. Allen taught our  teenage boy’s class. Being a recovered

alcoholic, he knew what it was like to be a non-believer.

He  carefully led us through our group lessons but showed us more by his  life what being a Christian was supposed to be like. For example, one  evening, my brothers and I were on our way to his house when we came on a  man lying beside the road. He was moaning so we knew he was alive, we  ran the next hundred yards to Clement’s house for help.  When we told  him what had happened, Mr. Allen put on his coat, not stopping for  boots, and left to help the man. To help someone was more important to  him than Bible study.

I  know that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh, was crucified for my sins,  and now He alone can save us from the consequences of our sin.  I have  assurances of everlasting life in God’s Kingdom.

Because  of this assurance, I especially felt God’s comfort when Jennie died.  Knowing that we would see each other again, the resurrection is a  promise of everlasting life.

Carlos Pinkham

I  was born in Brattleboro, VT, in 1943. After WWII my family moved to  Melrose, MA, where we attended the Melrose Baptist Church. In 1951 we  moved to Jericho, VT, where we attended the Congregational Church.  Teaching continued, but my understanding remained where it began in  Massachusetts. I had little more than a crude grasp of what God was  like. He was:

1. bigger than me (He is bigger than the universe),
2. older than me (He had to be older than the universe),
3. much more powerful than me (He created the universe),
4. much smarter than me (The universe He created works extraordinarily well)
5. He could be prayed to, mostly for things I wanted, only a little to talk about things I was ashamed I did.

Somehow Jesus fit into this, but I hadn’t the vaguest notion how.

My  understanding remained at that level until 1970 when my wife, Chris, my  two sons, and I moved to Dugway Proving Ground in Utah. Many of the  civilian employees lived at Dugway. We were among them. Chris started  attending the Protestant Chapel and shortly thereafter, a new Chaplain  and his wife, Gale and Martha Wilson, arrived. Chris challenged me to  join her. I did and I quickly became intrigued by their unabashed love  of people and Gale’s fascinating sermons on the scientific evidence for  God and the Bible.  

For  the next year and a half, I listened to Gale's sermons, attended adult  Sunday School, and read God's Word and commentaries on God's Word. My  prayer during this time was, "God, I've always thought  you're real, but I'm beginning to think you're more real than I  realized, and you're really interested in a personal relationship with  me; show me that you are."

Before  long, I was more convinced than ever that God was real and that He not  only loved His Creation, He specifically loved me. Thus, I made God Lord  of my life. But also, I was learning increasingly about this mysterious  person, Jesus, and more about myself. I learned that Jesus was God's  Holy Son and I was an unholy son. Slowly but surely, I began to see that  the issue was not my goodness compared to others', but my unholiness  compared to Jesus' Holiness.

So,  one October night in Salt Lake City in 1976, at a Continental Singers'  Concert, I finally surrendered my pride to God. Unsure one instant that I  was doing the right thing; certain the next, that I had, as I made  Jesus my Lord AND my Savior and the Holy Spirit, the Destroyer of all  doubt, entered in. 

So much has happened since. God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have  become dearer and clearer to me with each passing adventure.  

For more about my adventures, or the role of science and faith in my life, contact me at pinkhamcnu@gmail.com.