Jesus Christ is our righteousness before the Father.
I will speak to the congregation of your faithfulness (from Psalm 40:10).
God is doing wonderful things here at Stone Hill Church. I have asked two people to share about his wondrous deeds in their lives.
Robin Massie: When I was 9 years old, my father died and then my mother and I moved to Austin, TX. I found a special place at First Baptist Church, which had a strong music program. Although I was painfully shy, I felt like I could “open up” more when I was singing.
My mother was grieving deeply and made some poor choices. I was grieving, too. But by God’s grace, I would run to church, throwing myself into singing. I committed my life to Christ soon after we arrived. I had lost my earthly father, so it was very natural for me to place my faith in my real “daddy”.
Throughout my life, my favorite verse is Hebrews 13:5 — “Let your conversation be without covetousness and be content with such things as ye have. For He hath said, ‘I will never leave you, nor forsake you.’” This has been a huge blessing to know that no matter where I go, the Lord is still on His throne and will never let me go. I pray that this will be an encouragement to you, too.
Delonte Harrod: Upon reflection, my friend and I were wrong. We were leaders who had signed a contract not to smoke marijuana or drink that summer. After a week of hearing kids scream, give and receive hugs, we wanted to relax; we thought that was our best outlet.
That summer we were responsible for teaching the Lord’s word to junior high students. But my life was enveloped in savagery. I was a rebel. I mean, a real rebel. You know the one that Jesus talks about in his word. I hated God. I hated life. I hated my life—and I wanted to live a life without God.
That night we dishonored God by misusing his creation to alter our minds. But that night, on a playground, Jesus met with me. I don’t know how it happened. I do know that it happened. The Lord spoke. He revealed all to me (John 4:29). I was convicted; I was paralyzed by shame. In that moment, he was redeeming me, recreating me into something new.