Amanda Hontz Drury - Saying Is Believing: The Necessity of Testimony in Adolescent Spiritual Development

As [Jesus] was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons begged him that he might be with him. But Jesus refused, and said to him, Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you. And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him; and everyone was amazed.

Mark 5:18-20

A s a child, I always entered the sanctuary hoping to see microphones in the aisles. A microphone in the aisle meant that we would be hearing from more than the pastor during that service. A microphone in the aisle meant there would be space in the service for an individual to stand up and share carte blanche what was on her heart. While you never knew what might happen, there was a certain level of predictability. If Mrs. Goodman was present, there would be tears along with references to a difficult childhood. If Mr. Copper was present, we would hear a quasi-prophetic rant with a call to a deeper life of holiness. I remember ragged breathing into a corded, portable microphone with a large ball-like muffler as the speaker summoned the courage to tackle the monster of public speaking. Every once in a while a child my age would stand and make a rapid-fire statement publicly praising a godly mother, often prompting sentimental feelings from the listeners. While I heard stories of freedom from addictions in the past, I dont recall any dramatic confessions of present entanglements in sordid circumstances; of course, one could always hope.

Testimonies were exhilarating to my childs mind. You never knew what was going to happen. Anyone could stand up and say anything. If we were lucky we would get a fresh story about someone from the church that had a torrid past from which he or she had found freedom. Drugs, alcohol, some had even been in jail. Of course, these testimonies were not the norm. Most testimonies consisted of small blessings people had seen that week. Others were more akin to prayer requests with a confession of belief tagged on at the end. So a woman might stand up and speak of her wayward child and end with something along the lines of, But I know that God will be faithful and Im trusting he will intervene. Then there were those testimonies that were simple pronouncements of thankfulness: I just want to thank the Lord, some would say, for... and then they would fill in the blank with wherever they sensed the presence of God the week before.

A microphone in the aisle was a symbol of excitement for my eight-year-old mind. A microphone in the aisle was a symbol of terror for my father, who was pastor. A microphone in the aisle meant one thing: it was time to testify.

My exhilaration was also due in part to fear. Not knowing who was going to speak nor what was going to be said, I always had a small fear that someone was going to stand up and publicly critique my father, the head pastor. This never happened to my recollection (though he might say otherwise), but even at a young age I was very aware of the possibility of someone hijacking a service.

I recently asked my father about the anxiety surrounding the unknown testimonies. He could not help but laugh and explain, Its kinda like that old Forrest Gump line where hes sitting at the bus bench and he says to the lady, Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what youre going to get.

I remember a childhood conversation with my father about a particular congregant who had a tendency to testify at every opportunity. Why does she always cry? I asked my dad. I do not remember his exact answer, but I do remember picking up on some annoyance in his voice. Looking back I have little doubt this annoyance was probably properly directed toward what was most likely an emotionally charged, tangential testimony with little edification taking place.

Also exciting were the believers baptismal testimonies given just prior to immersion. These testimonies produced less anxiety for me as a listener because I knew they were written out ahead of time and gone over with a pastor on staff. I still have my own baptismal testimony written out in pencil on the front and back of a three-by-five card from when I was ten years old. Again, I was drawn toward the dramatic, sensational stories where grown men with shaking hands and voice would describe their lives before surrendering to the Lord. Many spoke of former addictions or of lives steeped in anger. Many also spoke of being raised by godly parents but deciding to run away from God in their teenage years. I remember hearing these prodigal son stories and thinking, Im still going to love God when Im a teenager, no matter what. At a very young age I was given a road map of potential pitfalls in the Christian life: avoid drugs and alcohol, and do not get pulled away by the wrong crowd. Of course, there were those peers of mine who heard these same testimonies and assumed it meant they could live wild lives as teenagers and still have the opportunity to come back to the Lord after they became adults.

Space for testimonies was also given following a missions trip or a youth camp. Often the church had offered financial support for these endeavors, and testifying was a way in which the congregants could hear how their giving helped fund some ministry outside of our own four walls.

It was sometime in the late 1980s or early 1990s that our church began to move from spontaneous testimonies to those that were more ordered and planned. The microphones in the aisles were saved primarily for church business meetings in case a congregant had a question about the budget. The church was experiencing significant growth which made overseeing spontaneous testimonies more and more difficult.

Baptismal testimonies underwent their own transition. We moved from live testimonies to videotaped and edited testimonies that were shown on large screens. The church explored alternate creative ways to share testimoniesparticularly when baptisms were moved to Lake Michigan or to the churchs large outdoor pond where sound amplification was an issue. Sunday mornings would occasionally have those being baptized walk across the stage holding up large signs. One side of the sign described life without Christ, the other side described life with Christ. So a man might walk across with a poster that read Addicted on one side and Freed on the other. Another woman might have Bitter written on one side of her poster and Peaceful on the other. I remember this being a very moving scene to witness. These people were later celebrated with a picnic dinner prior to being baptized outside. Those wanting to hear more of their testimonies could pick up a small booklet to read their testimonies at length.