Praise report from Maranatha Baptist Church's family camp
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Joy Courville
Oct 8, 2009, 12:31:58 AM10/8/09
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Dear praying saints,
Thank you to all those who prayed for these meetings. Everyone that I talked with who have been at previous camps testified at how well this family camp went. Even the little things like the sound booth, kitchen, registration, etc., went remarkable smooth. We're a very small church and so to have almost 250 come and stay at this camp is a huge endeavor. So praise God for His undertakings in all of those details.
One of the very special and unique works that the Lord did last week was bringing in four young street preachers from Texas (one from South Africa) who came with a burden to pray for the meetings, and also spend some time with brother Keith. These four godly young men (ages 20-26) are ablaze for Christ and soaked in the Scriptures. I have never met young men who have so soaked themselves in the Scripture and take every available moment to be in the Word. That alone was a rebuke and example to many of us at camp, especially to the youth. These brothers have a burden for the true Gospel to be preached and were bold during our family camp to engage people (especially the youth) in conversation and ask them if they were really born again. Below is a testimony from a teenager young lady who came to family camp and was greatly impacted by these brothers.
Most of the youth who attended these meetings have been raised in godly, conservative homes and most have made a profession of faith in Jesus Christ. The youth who is ablaze for Christ and loves to spend time in the Scriptures is the exception where it should be the norm. And for some reason, God brought in these brothers and used them and is still using them in the lives of the conservative youth in this area to do a work of revival, and I believe eventually regeneration in some cases.
The fellowship was very sweet and precious. The messages were powerful and anointed. There was a spirit of prayer that the Lord poured out on His people. Saturday night after the message I watched 4-5 young people who kept praying after all the people had dispersed from the auditorium. I heard that they prayed late into the night.
There have been many testimonies that have been shared of how God worked in individual lives, bringing repentance and renewal. I know there is much more that I have not heard of....God knows the work that He did and is still doing and will complete.
Praise God His wonderful works amongst the children of men!!! And may His people be emboldened and encouraged to press on in praying in faith and persistence for the Lord to work amongst His people.
Jesus Christ is Lord and Saviour. He is worthy.
Alleluia!
~Joy
This is the website of these brothers:
You Must Be Born Again
Today at 4:23pm
I have experienced "revival" before. Once during an altar call after one of Keith Daniel's sermons I was one of the group of people lining the stage. Today I have no idea what the sermon was even about. If "revival" doesn't last is it even real? I don't think so. I went to Family Camp last weekend determined not to join the crowd headed down that aisle unless I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it would last and that I was not just having yet another emotional experience that would be forgotten a week later. I went hoping to have my life changed for real this time and I left even more different than I had hoped.
The first evening's sermon might perhaps have moved me to go forward if it had not been for my decision not to do so unless I felt God pulling me, which I did not. It was an excellent sermon with Ps. 101:2b as the main text. Mr. Daniel leaned forward, tapped on the pulpit and said, "'I will walk within my house with a perfect heart'.....that I might not cause my husband to fall!"
I tucked this away as I usually do such things that I know I'll need later and made a mental note to prepare now. I would never have done it. Not really. I had good intentions, but very little motivation.
When he told how his older brother's faith lead him to Christ I took notice.
"'I will walk within my house with a perfect heart'...that my brother might not go to Hell."
This was a concept I have known for a long time and resolved to take to heart multiple times before, but never really did. I didn't this time either. I hid it away as well, determined to try again to influence my brother the way Mr. Daniel's brother did him. I think that nothing would have come of it had not God intervened.
Friday evening, for the second time in my life, (perhaps someday I'll write about the Vietnamese woman I met once) I saw what a life sold out to Jesus Christ looks like in real life. I'm sure that of all the godly, Christian people I have met in my life I had seen it before, but rarely does the average Christian of my acquaintance live with a giant bubble of Christ's love pouring out to touch every person they meet. Four young men from Texas, street preachers traveling wherever God leads them to go, attended Family Camp as well. I could tell right off that these men were different. It seemed like nearly every other sentence they uttered was a quote from the Bible. All they really wanted was to talk about Jesus everywhere they go. Normally I would have thought they were just a few more pharisaical Christians spouting God's Word to make themselves look and fell spiritual, but not this time. These guys are for real!
Mr. Daniel asked one of them to pray after the evening meeting. I think you can tell a lot about someone by the way they pray. I like to call Jake the "Crescendo Preacher". When he prays or preaches he starts out fairly mild and calm (relatively) but by the end his words are spilling forth with a passion and fervor not often seen in anyone under 40 years old and rare even then. As he prayed I knew that this preacher, only 2 years my senior, had something that I had tasted, but never partook of fully and I was highly interested.
Very soon after going to bed that night I was surprised to find that what had been a barely noticeable sore throat the day before literally turned into a terrible cold in a matter of minutes. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't breath very well and that bed wasn't overly comfortable anyway. As I lay there almost choking I had the thought impressed upon my heart that this was my last night to live. I've learned over the past several years to take such things seriously when it's as real and strong as it was that night. I'd had such "hunches" before and most of them were true.
I wasn't afraid to die then. I've been a Christian for over 9 years and not a fake one either. But I wasn't taking any chances. As these thoughts were running through my head I began to feel that something more was going on around me than a head cold and a strange impression. I looked around the room at the shadows of the furniture jumping out like the monsters under a child's bed. I'd had moments when the darkness struck fear into my imaginative mind for just a moment, but this was different. This was real.
As I peered into the shadows I saw nothing, but rather felt that a battle was going on in that room. A battle over which my life was the prize. I was determined that I would do everything in my power to see that the right side prevailed.
I grabbed my notebook and went to curl up on the couch where I could turn on a light to write. I didn't really think I would die that night, (whoever heard of dying of a cold?) but if I did I wanted to leave behind some last words for my family.
As I wrote I could sense the battle continuing before me. The thought of dying that night did not frighten me, but I did not want to go. I was ready, but oh, I could have been so much more ready! I thought of the crowds of lost people the street preachers I had met minister to. I remembered the love of God that I had seen in their eyes and I remembered times in the past when I too had longed to cry out to this dying world that there is a God who loves as no man can love. I prayed asking God for a second chance to make up the time I had lost and to use my life to bring as many lives as I can to Him.
As I finished my letter the battle seemed to subside. I had written what I needed to write, I had re-dedicated my life to Christ forever this time and I was ready for whatever happened next. At last I slept and awoke the following morning tired and still sick, but alive. Alive as the world would say, but I would have to say that I did indeed die that night.
"...knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him...." Romans 6:6-8
I go on to fight the good fight, to finish the race, to keep the faith (2 Tim. 4:7). But the battle is not over yet. It was easy for Satan to throw me off course before. Now I feel him unleashing such an attack that I have not experienced since I was 11 years old and perhaps not even then. I lost then, but I will conquer this time for "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13).
The first evening's sermon might perhaps have moved me to go forward if it had not been for my decision not to do so unless I felt God pulling me, which I did not. It was an excellent sermon with Ps. 101:2b as the main text. Mr. Daniel leaned forward, tapped on the pulpit and said, "'I will walk within my house with a perfect heart'.....that I might not cause my husband to fall!"
I tucked this away as I usually do such things that I know I'll need later and made a mental note to prepare now. I would never have done it. Not really. I had good intentions, but very little motivation.
When he told how his older brother's faith lead him to Christ I took notice.
"'I will walk within my house with a perfect heart'...that my brother might not go to Hell."
This was a concept I have known for a long time and resolved to take to heart multiple times before, but never really did. I didn't this time either. I hid it away as well, determined to try again to influence my brother the way Mr. Daniel's brother did him. I think that nothing would have come of it had not God intervened.
Friday evening, for the second time in my life, (perhaps someday I'll write about the Vietnamese woman I met once) I saw what a life sold out to Jesus Christ looks like in real life. I'm sure that of all the godly, Christian people I have met in my life I had seen it before, but rarely does the average Christian of my acquaintance live with a giant bubble of Christ's love pouring out to touch every person they meet. Four young men from Texas, street preachers traveling wherever God leads them to go, attended Family Camp as well. I could tell right off that these men were different. It seemed like nearly every other sentence they uttered was a quote from the Bible. All they really wanted was to talk about Jesus everywhere they go. Normally I would have thought they were just a few more pharisaical Christians spouting God's Word to make themselves look and fell spiritual, but not this time. These guys are for real!
Mr. Daniel asked one of them to pray after the evening meeting. I think you can tell a lot about someone by the way they pray. I like to call Jake the "Crescendo Preacher". When he prays or preaches he starts out fairly mild and calm (relatively) but by the end his words are spilling forth with a passion and fervor not often seen in anyone under 40 years old and rare even then. As he prayed I knew that this preacher, only 2 years my senior, had something that I had tasted, but never partook of fully and I was highly interested.
Very soon after going to bed that night I was surprised to find that what had been a barely noticeable sore throat the day before literally turned into a terrible cold in a matter of minutes. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't breath very well and that bed wasn't overly comfortable anyway. As I lay there almost choking I had the thought impressed upon my heart that this was my last night to live. I've learned over the past several years to take such things seriously when it's as real and strong as it was that night. I'd had such "hunches" before and most of them were true.
I wasn't afraid to die then. I've been a Christian for over 9 years and not a fake one either. But I wasn't taking any chances. As these thoughts were running through my head I began to feel that something more was going on around me than a head cold and a strange impression. I looked around the room at the shadows of the furniture jumping out like the monsters under a child's bed. I'd had moments when the darkness struck fear into my imaginative mind for just a moment, but this was different. This was real.
As I peered into the shadows I saw nothing, but rather felt that a battle was going on in that room. A battle over which my life was the prize. I was determined that I would do everything in my power to see that the right side prevailed.
I grabbed my notebook and went to curl up on the couch where I could turn on a light to write. I didn't really think I would die that night, (whoever heard of dying of a cold?) but if I did I wanted to leave behind some last words for my family.
As I wrote I could sense the battle continuing before me. The thought of dying that night did not frighten me, but I did not want to go. I was ready, but oh, I could have been so much more ready! I thought of the crowds of lost people the street preachers I had met minister to. I remembered the love of God that I had seen in their eyes and I remembered times in the past when I too had longed to cry out to this dying world that there is a God who loves as no man can love. I prayed asking God for a second chance to make up the time I had lost and to use my life to bring as many lives as I can to Him.
As I finished my letter the battle seemed to subside. I had written what I needed to write, I had re-dedicated my life to Christ forever this time and I was ready for whatever happened next. At last I slept and awoke the following morning tired and still sick, but alive. Alive as the world would say, but I would have to say that I did indeed die that night.
"...knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him...." Romans 6:6-8
I go on to fight the good fight, to finish the race, to keep the faith (2 Tim. 4:7). But the battle is not over yet. It was easy for Satan to throw me off course before. Now I feel him unleashing such an attack that I have not experienced since I was 11 years old and perhaps not even then. I lost then, but I will conquer this time for "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13).
~Abbie
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