"After the usual readings from the book of Moses and the prophets, those in charge of the service sent them this message, "Brothers, if you have any word of encouragement for the people, come and give it." (Acts 13:15 NLT)
The room is quiet. The floor is cold. Doubt whistles like a breeze. You've accepted the call to gather as saints, but something's wrong. There's a draft of indifference in the air. Disbelief sits a few seats to your left.
You take your place, and the assembly begins. Songs are sung, and scripture is read. God is good, and it's true, but is it enough? Is truth enough? Didn't God himself confess that worshipping in truth was a half-built bridge?
You try your best (you really do), but the grey won't relent. You begin to concede the most likely outcome: you'll leave as you came. You reach for your coat and a handful of resolve when . . . someone speaks up.
A white-haired warrior three rows in front stands to her feet. She clears her throat like a concert violinist tuning her strings. "God has been good . . . and let me tell you why." It's a testimonial--the kind that turns a cold room into a Wisconsin summer. It's not Matthew or Acts. It's her own book with her own story of forgiveness, healing, and victory. It doesn't offend the gospel; it radiates the gospel to life . . . which is exactly how it makes you feel. You feel . . . (or better yet) . . . your faith feels . . . alive.
This is the power of our testimony. This is what it means to live in community. This is what it means to worship in spirit and in truth.