Some time back, a visitor to my web site e-mailed me saying that he was "very interested in hearing about [my] conversion and some of the key things that the Lord has taught [me] as a believer." I hadn't previously included my testimony on my site because I felt that our school logo (with the cross in the center and featured prominently throughout the site) coupled with the article on Christian participation in Eastern martial arts made it clear that I was a Christian. I still believe they do. However, the personal testimony of a fellow martial artist and brother in the faith, Danny Young, was such an encouragement when I read it on his Web site that I felt sharing what Christ has done in my life (it is NOT about me, but Him) might likewise encourage others. In that hope I share the following:
I was baptized on September 19, 1971. I say baptized because I was saved (accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior) on the preceding Thursday. Before that day I was what I often refer to as a "cardboard Catholic" (that is, a Catholic on paper only). Spiritually, I was best described as an agnostic. Oh, I acknowledged the fact that there might be a God out there, but I seriously doubted that He could really be known by any of us.
In the months before my salvation, I explored Eastern religion and one of its 20th-century incarnations, "New Age." Both thoroughly convinced me of a life after death; however, they offered no assurance that any hereafter would be pleasant. If anything, both Buddhism and Hinduism offered many lifetimes of more suffering before reaching Nirvana. I was in deep despair and plagued with thoughts of suicide. I was miserable, and I saw only a gloomy future and no relief, even in death (which is probably why I did not kill myself at that time). I knew what a wretched person I was and recognized that I was completely unequal to the task of personal reformation. It was then that I met Dick Puter. Dick was working as a fitness counselor at the (then) European Health Spa.
Dick was a Christian. Worse, he was a Baptist (to a Catholic growing up in Georgia--even a cardboard Catholic--the most dreaded of all proselytizers was a Southern Baptist). Dick began witnessing to me, and, as you might imagine, my first question to him was, "You're not a Southern Baptist, now, are you?" He assured me that he was not. (He failed to mention that he was an independent, fundamentalist, Bible-believing Baptist!) 
Anyway, Dick somehow talked me into committing to attend services at Denver Baptist Temple for six weeks.
It happened that my work schedule prevented us (my family and I) from attending for the first three weeks. (Little did I know that had I not shown up on the fourth Sunday, Dick would have met me at my door the following Sunday. Fortunately, the Lord knew that such an act on Dick's part would immediately turn me off, so on the fourth Sunday we were able to go). We sat in the very last row. I'd never seen such a sight. There were people there waving handkerchiefs and shouting "Amen" and "Hallelujah" throughout the service. I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. After that service Dick asked me what I thought. "Well," I said, "it's different." (Was that ever an understatement!) However, as weird as those folks seemed, I had given my word, and I would "endure" five more Sundays.
During those first weeks, we were visited a couple of times by both Dick and the pastor, Al Lacy. My sweet wife accepted Christ as her Lord and Savior on the fourth Sunday (she'd always been smarter than I in such matters). She was also baptized the same day. As you might imagine, I had all kinds of deep theological questions for her like, "was the water cold?" To make a long story a bit shorter, on the Thursday before our fifth Sunday, while lying in bed on my side, facing our west, paint-peeling wall), I asked Christ to save me. Just to be sure, I asked him again on Friday and Saturday nights. Wow! He did. He lifted my dispair, gave me hope for the future, and turned my life completely around. I still had much to learn (still do), and I made some awful mistakes in the process, but He is faithful and He continues to love me, even when I make myself downright unlovable. That is our conversion story. 1 But what has God done for us since then?
God does not stop with our conversion. He is both the author and the finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2), and there is always much to learn. Of the numerous lessons learned in our walk with Him, the following are my mile markers.
First, I recognized early on that although I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior, I did NOT love Him. Clearly Christ had saved me, and for that I was forever in His debt, but I could not honestly say that I loved Him--heck, we'd just met. This recognition was not bad, and it did not affect me negatively. Instead, it motivated me to learn as much about Him as I could. My wife and I began reading the Bible. We started in John and worked our way through the New Testament. We then read the other Gospels, and finally went to Genesis. As we read through the books of the kings (Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles), I saw such awful apostasy. Judah and Israel's kings were constantly wavering between good and evil (very, very evil). Reading this, however, was good for me. (All scripture is given by God and is profitable--even the "bad" parts.) I finally came to King Manasseh, the worst of the lot, and read in 2nd Chronicles how he was taken prisoner by the Assyrians and was cast into prison (by some accounts, his captors put out his eyes as well). Then, in Chapter 33, from within the bowels of that dark Assyrian prison, Manasseh cried out to God for forgiveness. (He was not merely sorry because he had literally hit bottom, but because he was genuinely sorry for all the evil he had done.) Amazingly, when he repented, God instantly, lovingly, and unconditionally forgave him! It was then that I fell in love with God. Now, I could say that I knew enough about Him to know that I was not only indebted to Him, but I loved Him as well. (Never as much as He loves me, but with all the heart and soul that I can muster.)
The second great lesson came when I thought the Lord wanted me to give up my martial arts. Oh, how I struggled with that one. Frankly, I found myself incapable of giving it up. Finally, I told Him as much. I said, "Lord, I can no more give up my martial arts than I can cut off my arm. Still, I want to be wholly yours, so I give You permission to remove it from my life, for I cannot." I learned two things about God from this experience. First, that He did not have to break me to take something out of me (or me out of anything--in this case, the martial arts); He could simply change my desire (something I gave Him permission to do). Second, it pleased Him to give me my "desire" and to leave me in the arts I so love (thank you, thank you, thank you). He simply wanted me to willingly surrender everything to Him, including my obsession with the martial arts. What a God!
The third great lesson came when we thought the Lord wanted us to give to our church's building program. (Actually we borrowed $2,000, which we turned around and gave to the church for the building program.) Now $2,000 was--still is--a lot of money to us. All I wanted from God was for Him to make His presence in my life real to me in some way. I didn't need to have financial blessings rain down on us (only because my thinking was too small then), but I wanted something, anything. What happened instead was that within a week, both furnaces in our house went out. Replacing them cost us a couple thousand dollars (money we did not have). You can imagine how I was feeling. Then, while working on our car (the battery died and I was trying to remove the cable to clean the post), the entire post of the battery pulled out. I was furious. I stormed in the house and fell on my knees. I asked God (read "respectfully demanded"), "Give me one good reason why I should ever pray for anything--just one!" I was so upset that I was completely exhausted. I skipped supper and went straight to bed (that was about 6 p.m.). Then, about midnight, I awoke with these words echoing in my head: "Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him." God had answered my prayer. I leapt out of bed and looked up the passage (Job 13:15). I have never doubted Him like that again.
The fourth great lesson came when my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to undergo a double mastectomy, chemotherapy, and several reconstructions. Oh, did that one bring us low. By this time, though, we were stronger in our faith, so although we cried (and we cried ever so deeply), we nevertheless found ourselves continuing to praise Him, even through our tears. During this time we learned more about how much God loves us than at any other time in our lives. (It seems almost cruel that we must experience pain before we really know Love, but such is our human condition.) As we walked through that dark valley in our lives, the Lord directed me to C.S. Lewis' "The Problem of Pain" and "A Grief Observed" (the latter containing letters where Lewis shares his thoughts about his wife's death by cancer). My wife had survived two bouts with cancer, and although she remained in poor health, her indomitable and ever-cheerful spirit strengthened me and continued to bring delight to our life.
This lesson was by far the toughest. By that I mean my wife's health deteriorated significantly; this time from complications of Type-II diabetes. I will not go into the details, but suffice it to say, as bad as it was, the cancer was a lot easier to face. At least, we knew that if the chemotherapy did not work, there would be an end to her suffering. This time, however, her suffering was worse--incredible pain and more. I kept asking God "why" my wife had to suffer so, but I received neither an answer nor relief for my wife.
As Thanksgiving Day, 2004, approached, I didn't feel very thankful. Clearly, by any standard, I had much for which I should have been thankful. I am a citizen of the greatest nation on the earth today. (I don't say that in a boasting prideful manner, but in humble gratitude--I could have been born in Iraq.) I have a good job. Yes, I grumble about this, that, and all the other things employees typically complain about, but it is, nevertheless, a job for which I should be very thankful--I could be unemployed. I had a sweet wife who, although desperately ill then, had encouraged me and supported my labors all these years. If any good thing flows out of my life, it is due in large part to her. Even the success of our marriage is largely because of her love for myself and our sons. For that I should be thankful.
Speaking of our sons, we have two for which I should be very thankful. Gilbert is blind and retarded, but he uses the one talent God has given him to its fullest, not hiding it, but serving and glorifying our God with it (see Luke 19:11-27 to understand the significance of that). His older brother, Tony, is a man whose tremendous skill with his hands is exceeded only by his character as a man, a husband, and a father. No earthy father could be prouder of his son than I am of him. Our daughter-in-law is one most in-laws can only dream of having, and our two granddaughters are beautiful in both body and spirit. How could you not be thankful for them? And yet, I dreaded Thanksgiving Day. What would I say at our Thanksgiving table when, as is our tradition, each recounts three things for which he or she is thankful? What could I say with my sweet wife suffering so? How could I be genuinely thankful for all my blessings with her in such pain?
I cried to God about this repeatedly. "Life sucks," I told Him (thankfully, lightening remained in the heavens despite rantings and ravings that bordered on insolence.) Then, the Sunday before Thanksgiving Day, I was reminded of what for which I should be MOST thankful: namely for His undying love toward us. I heard a pastor on the radio quote Psalm 106, verse 1. "Give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever." Good! Merciful! My wife is suffering unspeakably and . . . Before I could continue my tirade, I was reminded of the following verse: "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18) An unbelievable peace flooded my soul as I recognized that "the glory which shall be revealed in us," was purchased by Christ's willing sacrifice of Himself on the cross, on our behalf. That fact alone put "Thanksgiving Day" back into proper perspective. We must, I must, therefore, give thanks to the Lord for His mercy, for although I deserved hell itself (as do we all), He has so richly blest my wife and I with life eternal. And my wife's sufferings, which I would have done anything to remove, were still not to be compared with "the glory which shall be revealed in us." She suffered greatly, but the reality is that her glory will so far exceed her pains as to be incomparable. We remained distressed and deeply saddened by her condition (is that ever an understatement!), but we were at least, thankful to God during that season of Thanksgiving. For all the things listed above, yes, and for His goodness and mercy.
Through her cancers, we learned that our Father most likely did not bring this awful disease into our lives to test us or teach us important lessons about Him or about life. Neither did He bring (or allow) them because He knew that we were mature enough or tough enough to endure them. Knowing all, as He does, He already knew that we would face this trial (the future never surprises God). But our God is TOO BIG and we [read me] far too frail for Him to have to bring such a trial into our lives just to teach us lessons. No, we will not limit His power by believing He has to use such awful diseases as these to teach us anything. I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know my God is not so limitated. True, He did not intervene with miraculous healing, but He will, if we allow Him, turn even the darkest event in our lives into a blessing (what we call blessings in black envelopes).
My dear wife experienced ultimate healing on Monday, January 31, 2005. Her memorial was the following Friday, February 4th. Terry's wish is (is, because she still lives) that we not mourn her passing, but rather that we rejoice with and for her, for she is in Heaven now and completely free of all pain.
 Theresa Josephine Orlando Entered into Life Entered into Glory |
Terry has been "Home Free" for going on four years now, and although I am no where near finished grieving for her (frankly, I may never be), God is clearly not finished with me yet either. I say this because in God's plan, and with Terry's hand directly involved and even with her blessing, I am now blest with another wonderful woman with whom I can share life. Her name is Mary Jane. (God knew it would take two extraordinary women to make me into the man He wants me to be. That God loves me at all amazes me; that He loves me enough to give me two such wonderful women as Terry and Mary Jane is completely beyond my ability to understand.)
Terry and I had known Mary Jane for nearly a score of years. When she was a student at Colorado Christian College, she stayed in our home. Eventually she felt led to change course in life. She moved to Seattle and later, returned to her family home in Santa Fe. Throughout that time, she remained a close family friend and stayed in constant contact with us, visiting often. As Terry's condition worsened, the frequency of Mary Jane's visits increased to monthly, even helping with memorial arrangements just days before Terry went home.
God's word tells us it is not good for man to be alone (Gen. 2:18) and He knew I would not survive Terry's passing by myself (believe me, that is no exaggeration). Two thirds of my life, all but three years of my adulthood, was spent with the most wonderful woman. How could I make it alone? Terry knew that as well, so in the year before she went home, she was preparing both Mary Jane and myself for for eventual union.
Knowing I would remarry (we had already discussed that) Terry asked about a year before she died, "Have you considered Mary Jane?" I replied that as my wife she was my main concern and that I could not afford to think on such things. That was the absolute truth; I simply could not afford to think on such things at the time. However, I had considered Mary Jane--but dismissed the thought as soon as it entered my mind. Simply put, I preferred petite brunettes. Mary Jane is a tall blond. (As I write this it sounds soooo dumb, but what can I say.)
Although my feelings about Mary Jane began to change following Terry's passing, I didn't really think it would work. Mary Jane was enrolled in a radiology program in Santa Fe with two more years of education ahead of her. I thought, "I can't wait a long time; I'm not getting any younger." And frankly, after having spent a full two thirds of my life with the most wonderful woman, I desperately missed feminine intimacy--not just the physical relationship (sure, I missed that; I'm not that old), but the companionship, the conversation, and the partnership. It also occurred to me that Mary Jane, who was 36 at the time and had never before married, had a father who is just 14 years older than I. How would he take our union? Talk about a deck stacked against you! Everything told me this would not fly.
Mary Jane saw barriers of her own. Not surprisingly, one of her major concerns was that others would perceive her as the proverbial "maid in waiting." (I guess, in fact, she was--at least it seems by Terry's actions and God's will.) Mary Jane also wondered what Terry would think of our interest in each other. I told her I thought she would approve. That's the way Terry was--always wanting the best for others, always wanting the best for me. And as Mary Jane and I think back now, our interest in each other starts to look as if it was part of Terry's plan (or, as one of my friends suggested, "Terry's revenge on Mary Jane" ).
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I won't go into all the details like obstacles overcome, compatibility (85.5% averaged over 11 categories), or our differences (first of all Mary Jane's a woman; I'm a man ; she's also adventurous and spontaneous, while I prefer to plan my spontaneity). Suffice it to say, Mary Jane and I joined hands in Holy Matrimony at Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico on August 6th.
Too fast? For some, I am sure it is. But for the One who owns eternity and still created the heavens and the earth in just six days, it does not seem so. Mary Jane and I are moving forward in faith and obedience, and in that we rest assured that in His hands our relationship is unfolding exactly as it was meant to. We can only pray and hope our family and friends will see our awesome God in this and support our new life together. Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord. Proverbs 18:22 |
Sola Deo Gloria
Footnotes
- For all my tongue-in-cheek remarks about "Baptists," please understand that on accepting Christ, my wife and I also became members of that "Baptist" church and were active members of independent, fundamental, Bible-believing Baptist congregations for many years. (It is amazing how your perception on everything changes when Christ takes over your life. ) [Return to reference point]