A Word About Testimonies …
When I was a little boy growing up in Granite City, Illinois, on hot summer Wednesday nights in our neighborhood, I often found it my lot to go to Wednesday Night prayer meeting with my little granny. She wasn’t five feet tall in the flesh, but she was a giant in the faith. I know without any reservation that when she started praying, heaven started listening and the devil starting looking for a place to hide.
But on certain muggy Wednesday evenings, in the neighborhood where I lived, in the town where I was born, if you were to have stood outside one of the open windows
of that tiny little church, one of the sounds you would have heard was the sound of something we don’t do much in church nowadays; something called a “testimony service” going on inside.
As a little boy, I wasn’t good at estimating the size of a crowd. But, what was surely a small handful of people would gather in that tiny church to listen to one another share stories about what God had been up to in their lives; how he had answered a prayer, or impressed them with a verse of scripture, or reminded them of how good God is. Usually during church, the only guy talking was the preacher, thumpin’ his bible during his sermon. But Wednesday night prayer meeting was different. Ordinary ‘civilians’ got a chance to say their piece. Saints like my little granny, and tire store owner Fred Fahnster, and Orene Warfield, who lived across the street from my granny, and just plain ole run-of-the-mill sinners like my dad were invited to verbalize their testimonies, telling everyone who came to church that night what God had been up to in their lives, stuff that they thought the rest of the group would be blessed to hear.
And for sure, those in attendance must have been blessed. I could see it in the nodding heads and hear it in the murmured “Amen” and “Thank you, Lord.” I didn’t know it then, but I have since become convinced those Amen’s and Thank you, Lord affirmations were the sound of the redeemed of the Lord saying so (Psalm 107:2). It was the sound of faith being passed along, from one person to another.
Even as a child, I sensed that something powerful was happening in that room. Perhaps something like what John and Peter felt in Acts chapter 4, when they stood before the Sanhedrin and testified:“For we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:20)
That’s what a testimony is—it’s not just a story. It’s a declaration of what God has done, a witness to His faithfulness, encouragement for those who might be struggling to see Him at work. That’s why testimonies matter, I think. That’s why they should still be heard.
I wonder if, on certain muggy Wednesday evenings in the summertime, back in the neighborhood where I lived, in the town where I was born, I wonder if they still have testimony services. There’s a part of me that says, “I sure hope so.”
Psalm 22:22 – “I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.”
A big Texas howdy. Neighborhood Church back in the day use to do just so during our service. That always blessed my heart.
I suspect many have memories of their own ‘back in the day.’