Using my Story for His Glory

Using My Story for His Glory

            I had never been on an airplane before, especially not one overseas.  I had never been on a mission trip either, especially not one in another country across the ocean.  But, when my parents asked me whether or not I would like to go to Romania over Spring Break, I jumped at the chance.  As nervous as I was to ride on a plane for the first time and to go on a mission trip for the first time, a little piece of me was excited as well, excited to share the Good News of Jesus.  I hoped that I could make some kind of difference in the lives of the Romanian people, even with the little experience I possessed.

            There were thirteen of us who traveled the fourteen-hour journey to Jibou, Romania, and I was the youngest out of all of them.  But, I served the people there, using the wisdom God had placed inside of me that was beyond my twelve years.  Singing was a big part of the trip, so, even though my voice is not made for singing, I sang along with the rest of our group, sharing God’s truth through lyrics and chords.  A dentist came along with us on the trip, so while the dentist and my mom worked on less fortunate children’s rotting teeth, I played with the kids and taught them about Jesus.  We went into an orphanage and into the marketplace, where I learned how to make balloon animals.  The trip was not like I had expected it to be, but in every little thing that happened, God taught me something big about myself and about Him.

Every night, different members of our team would split up into groups and go into neighboring villages to sing, teach, or share our testimonies.  One specific night, my mom was not feeling good, so she opted to stay at our host home.  My stomach flipped upside down when she said this, because I did not want to go without another female from our team.  But, it was foolish and childish of me to think this way, so one of the members of our team, Pastor Flaviu, and a Romanian pastor, Pastor Aleen, picked me up that night.  I sat in silence in the back of the car while the two of them chattered off in Romanian.  Not understanding anything they said, I peered out the windows at the beautiful Romanian countryside.  The sun was slowly setting over the hills, and I sat in awe of the small country that God had brought me to, not wanting to be anywhere else at the moment. 

Suddenly, Pastor Flav’s voice wafted over to me in English, “Rebekah, are you prepared to share your testimony at the church?”

I confirmed that I was, the knot in my stomach growing tighter by the second.  I had shared my testimony once already during the trip, but for some reason, this felt different.  Maybe it was because there were no women with me, it was just me and the two pastors.  Or maybe it was because this was at a church with lots of adults, rather than mostly children like it had been when I shared at the orphanage.  Whatever it was, I was not excited to stand up in front of a group of people and tell them all about my life. 

Soon I found myself standing in the very front row of the pews, the only person in the building who did not have a Romanian background, the only person who did not know the words to the worship songs.  When worship ended, Pastor Flav called me up to the front and introduced me.  Nervousness enveloped my body as I stood up to face the small congregation.  My long skirt folded around my legs, and I smoothed out my blue shirt.  There was no need for a microphone; I do not think the church owned one anyways.  But, as I began to talk, my voice grew louder and more confident. 

“I’ve grown up in church all my life,” I began in English, with Pastor Flav translating between every sentence.  Every person in the pews had their eyes locked on me, and I looked back at them.  On one side of the church sat all the women and girls, and on the other side sat the men, an example of the strange Romanian tradition that occurred in every church.  There was a mix of generations: older men and women, some who looked too frail to be attending a late night church service, parents, and their children.  Two boys sat in the very back, one of whom looked close to my own age. 

I shared my testimony of giving my life to Jesus at six-years old, a fairly young age.  I went on to explain my life after I got saved, and how I had grown in Christ.  During the last bit of my short speech, I talked about being the youngest on the mission team.  “But, being young doesn’t stop me from having just as much impact as adults.”  The truth of my own statement hit me as I realized that there was no need for me to be nervous.  God knew what He was doing, and I just had to lean back on Him.

            After I was finished, everyone clapped enthusiastically and Pastor Flav stood up to preach.  I sat through the Romanian sermon, my eyes drooping with tiredness at the words I could not understand.  Finally, the long service ended after another session of music.  I waited around with the two pastors, smiling at people as they left and shaking their hands.  In the car as we left the village, Racas, I sat quietly once again as the two men up front talked.  But this time, it was mostly Pastor Aleen.  It was almost like he was telling a story to Pastor Flav.  I wondered what it was, but I doubted they would confide in me.

            Finally, Pastor Flav spoke for my ears to hear.  “Rebekah, Pastor Aleen was just telling me that after the service, a woman came up to him and told him that she has a son who is around your age. Apparently after you had finished with your testimony, the boy turned to his mother and told her that he needs to get saved too. Your testimony really affected him, and his mom is hopeful that he’ll become a Christian soon.” 

            I was deeply touched by this story.  I smiled in the dark, remembering the words of Paul the Apostle.  “Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young…”  My own feeble declaration of faith, God used for His glory.  I will never forget this story about the boy in the very back of the church, who listened to me and took my words to heart.  I don’t know for sure if that boy got saved that night or any other time, but I planted a seed and that’s all that God wanted me to do.

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This is a true story that happened to me last April.  As many of you probably know, I went on a week-long mission trip to Romania with a group from my church.  I was nervous, not only to fly on a plane overseas for the first time, but to share my testimony in front of a group of people.  We were all told ahead of time that we were going to share our testimony at least once on the trip.  I was ok with that, but I doubted that my own meager story would have any effect on the people in Romania.  When I got saved, I was only a child.  But, God used my story to affect another person my own age and I was overjoyed that God actually wanted to use me to bring glory to His kingdom.  He can do the same for you.  Just because you are young and you don't think your story is very great, God can use you to do great things for Him, if you will just trust Him.