My Testimony of Salvation
                                                           by Sandra Medlin
 

                    When I was 14 years old, I began attending a Southern Baptist Church.
               I was very active in the church, participating in the Youth Choir, GA'S, and
               anything else that was available for the youth.  I had been raised
               Episcopalian to that point.
                    When I was 15, there was a revival meeting at the church.  An
               evangelist from the Holy Land was helping that year.  His name was Anis
               Shirosh, I remember him so clearly.  One night, after the sermon, there
               was an "altar call".  Having been convicted in my heart, I went down front.
               When I got there, the Pastor of the church met me.  He asked if I felt that
               I was lost.  I told him yes.  He asked if I believed that Jesus Christ had
               died on the cross for my sins, and I told him yes.  He asked if I would take
               Jesus into my heart and accept Him as my personal Savior.  I, once again,
               answered yes.  The pastor of the church shook my hand, welcomed me
               into the church and began making arrangements for my baptism.  I
               attended that church for about three or four years after that.
                    I married at the age of 24.  We did not attend church anywhere, but I
               had heard my husband relate his experience of Salvation to a friend.  He
               asked me if I was saved and I told him yes.  My testimony was not quite
               like his, but I was okay.  My husband Jerry, very skeptically, let it go at
               that.  UNTIL...........
                    Labor Day Weekend 1979.  It was that weekend that would change
               both of our lives.....FOREVER.  My stepdaughter, Carrie, was kidnapped,
               raped and murdered that weekend.  She lived with her mother and
               Stepfather in Greenfield, Tn.  Jerry's father was in the hospital in
               Memphis, where we lived, dying with Cancer.  We got the call late on
               Saturday evening.  We drove to Greenfield and began to wait.  Carrie's
               body was discovered on Sunday afternoon in a field about two miles from
               the house.  Jerry and I went out to the sceneand he identified the body.
                    Jerry immediately became angry with God and began blaming Him for
               this terrible tragedy.  "How could you do such a thing to this child", he
               asked.  Then came that 'Still Small Voice'.  "Well, if you had been doing
               what you should have done for the past 6 years, maybe I would not have
               had to allow this to happen".  Jerry's attitude changed and since then has
               tried to serve the Lord to the best of his ability.  He was called to preach
               in March of 1995.
                    So...what about me?  Well, during the time of Carrie's death, there was
               great turmoil.  We lost her and two days later, lost Jerry's dad.  We buried
               them both that week.  When we got back to work, it was too much to
               handle, so we both took a leave of absense and went away.  While we were
               away, I began to question my salvation.  By this time, I had been to the
               Missionary Baptist Church and heard the Gospel preached, heard
               testimonies, etc.  I was coming to the realization, that what I had was
               different than what these people talked about.  Then, one day, it hit me
               like a ton of bricks....I was LOST!
                    This was toward the middle of September.  Jerry and I stayed off work
               for about three weeks.  We stayed with his mother and I kept asking
               questions.  I asked every question you could think of.  The main question
               I asked was to myself..where will you go if you die today, Heaven or Hell?
               The answer was always the same...Hell.  I just couldn't believe that I had
               gone all of those  years, believing that I belonged to God only to be
               told....no you don't.  One thing is for sure,  that night so many years
               before, God had convicted my soul for the first time.  It is only through His
               wonderful mercy that I had survived to this point.  For surely I would have
               gone to Hell had I not.
                    I got so tired of asking questions, and finally realized that there were
               just some things I would never understand until God had saved me.  At
               work one day, I was so close to being saved that I could taste it.
               However, being human, I let Satan cheat me out of it.  My conviction was
               so heavy that day, that I could barely breathe, but I just couldn't get on my
               knees in front of all of those people I worked with.  None of them would
               understand the dilemma I was in (and they probably wouldn't have).  What
               I didn't understand was that my heart is what needed to be on it's knees.
               When I got home that evening, I fell onto my bed sobing.  Jerry came in
               and asked what was wrong.  I told him that I had turned God away that day
               at work and began to explain what had happened.  I was afraid that He
               would not deal with me again.  But God spoke to me through Jerry telling
               me that He had not turned His back on me.  I would get another chance,
               but that could be the last.
                    A couple of weeks went by and nothing.  Each weekend, Jerry wanted
               to visit the church he had grown up in, so we would travel to Bruceton,
               Tn.  Each weekend, we would end up back at Landmark Missionary
               Baptist Church in Memphis.  Why?  Because Jerry was still not yielding to
               God's will.  Eventually, he did and one Sunday morning and presented
               himself for membership to Landmark.  He was accepted and baptized the
               following Sunday.  Finally, we were free to attend Pleasant Ridge
               Missisonary Baptist Church.  So we traveled to Jerry's mom's once again.
                    We got up on Sunday morning and got ready for Church.  God had still
               not chosen to deal with me again since that day at work a few weeks
               before.  We went though Sunday School and the Church service as usual.  I
               still felt nothing.  We came to the altar call at the end of the service and
               the congregation began to sing an invitational song.  I still didn't feel
               anything.  I was wearing a very long pendant that day.  I happened to look
               down and noticed that the pendant was jumping up and down with my
               heartbeat.  I thought it rather strange that my heart would be beating that
               hard and me not really physically "feel" it beating.  I still stood in that
               pew.  Then, a thought came to mind.  What if this is God saying, "How
               much do you trust, believe, question?  How willing are you to step out on
               faith?"  I decided that I'd better go to that altar, even if I didn't have a
               strong feeling of conviction, even if I didn't understand what was going on
               or feel that God was dealing with me.  I moved Jerry out of my way and
               made my way to the altar.  When I got there, I knelt to pray, but there was
               nothing there.  I couldn't pray, there were no words.  I finally told God that
               I didn't understand, but that I wanted to be saved.  Then I stood, hugged
               Jerry's uncle and went back to my seat.  Jerry and his mother asked me
               on the way home after church if I felt any different and I told them no.  We
               went home to Memphis that afternoon.
                    Monday morning I awoke and began to get ready for work.  Looking in
               the mirror to put on my makeup, I asked that all important
               question...where will you go if you die today.  What's this, did the word
               Heaven enter my mind?  Surely this must be a mistake.  I'm hellbound, I
               know I am.  Let's just keep praying and go to work.  Tuesday morning
               rolled around.  Once again, while dressing for work, the question...where
               will you go.  Once again, that wonderful word Heaven enters, but this time,
               not for a split second.  It lingeres for a few moments.  God....could this
               be?  Have you actually saved this wreched sinner?  Let's get this
               straight....when?  And then God spoke to me...just to me, that "still small
               voice" was talking to me, Sandra Medlin.  "Remember Sunday morning
               when you got to the altar and couldn't pray?"  Yes, I remember.  "You
               couldn't pray for your soul, because I saved you as you stepped into the
               isle."  Oh my gosh, could it be true.  Did it really happen..."Yes my child,
               now you belong to me."
                    That is my testimony.  I didn't shout or jump up and down like some.
               There were no grand celebrations in the church, as I have since
               witnessed.  Just total, calm, wonderful, sweet peace in my heart.  I was
               saved on October 7, 1979.  Not everyone knows the exact day or year or
               month.  But believe me, when it happens YOU know!  God Himself tells
               you.  And no matter what the month, day or year, it is planted in your heart
               forever more.