Testimony - Michelle Scott

When I was at school a weird family moved in next-door. Sunday entertainment for Mum and I involved counting the number of visitors they received and speculating wildly as to what was going on. We found out they were having Christian meetings and were invited along. They continued inviting us even though we refused many times. 

This was in the early 1970’s and meetings were held in the building at the back of their house. This was the early days of ‘choruses’ when people had discovered their hands could clap and the organ wasn’t the only instrument God approved of. I found the meetings lively and fun compared to Anglican services I attended with my school. 

When Maghull Chapel was built I started going to Sunday evening services. When the speaker mentioned a scripture, everybody turned to it in their Bibles. I was embarrassed I couldn’t find scriptures quickly (still can’t). A non-conformist church suited me as I didn’t have much respect for traditional denominations. My christening was a small affair because neither family would attend as it wasn’t being held in ‘their’ church (Mum’s family were Catholic and Dad’s Protestant). Mum & Dad were very grateful to the few black sheep who supported them! 

I heard the message of God’s love many times. I accepted the fact that there is a God. I thought that if Jesus did indeed live, die and rise again that He must have done it for a reason. I could not just accept it as a fact - I had to do something about it. Not rush into missionary work or anything, but acknowledge Him in some way, find out why. Sometimes during services, the speaker would make an ‘appeal’. That is when they ask you to stand or go to the front if you want to make a commitment to Jesus. When the appeal was made I would sit there shaking, wishing I had the courage to get up. That happened a lot, and many times the speaker would say, “This could be your last chance”. I spent tearful nights worrying, praying and asking Jesus to accept me there, on my own. I felt rejected by God. I didn’t doubt His existence, but because He didn’t appear or speak to me in some way, I felt rejected so gradually rejected Him. 

As time passed I grew further away from God. At Christmas 1987 I had a head-on car accident. My face was smashed beyond recognition (Mum walked past me in Casualty, she didn't recognise me), my ankles were crushed, and various other nasties. One of our church elders spent the whole time I was in Casualty (6 hours) with me, praying. When I got to the ward I couldn’t see, move, talk. I was in shock and pain, convinced I was dying. My whole 
being screamed out for God - to accept me, if not in life, perhaps in death. I realised I was in hospital and knew there would be a Gideon bible somewhere. I reached out with the only bit of my that would move, my left hand, and there was a bible in the cabinet. I held onto that little book and cried out for God. I wish I could say I felt God’s acceptance, then, but I didn’t. 
When I came out of hospital I wasn’t grateful that I was alive, I just had an awful numbness, nothingness. I asked immediately for the elder to come to see me and told him I wanted to re-commit my life to Jesus. 

And since then it’s all been wonderful . . . 
Hmmm. Nope, can’t say that either. I have physical problems plus recurring depression. Ray had a nervous breakdown and is going through a similar experience now. However, nothing can change the fact that Jesus lived, died and rose again to show His love for us and the way to God. And ‘us’ includes ME! I know He will bring good out of every situation if we give Him the chance. 

Jesus may not be in the world physically but His followers are and, through them, I have received His love, prayer, counselling and deliverance. I have accepted I am a part of the body of Christ - the church - and know how to battle against attacks from Satan, who seeks to convince me otherwise. Instead of being intimidated by the Bible, I have learned to use it. And, most important, of all, I know how to enter God’s presence - through worship. 

One of my big problems is loss of memory. I have very patchy recollection. Following my accident I knew Ray was my husband but couldn’t (still don’t) remember getting married. I forgot all the theory of music but remembered where to put my fingers on the piano keys, I just didn’t know which keys they were. And Ray? Maybe he should write his own testimony. Some years ago, a pastor prophesied that the Lord had a mighty work for him to do (the prophecy was confirmed). Satan has been successful in preventing him from doing that work (whatever it is). 

Things are happening, though. After living in St. Helens for 8 years we have moved. We have recently moved to the historic market town of Ormskirk, West Lancashire. It happened when I stopped trying to force my will on the Lord and my family, (“I want to move nearer the Chapel, but we can’t afford it, I hate it here”, etc.,) and we all prayed for the Lord’s will to be done about where we lived. The house sold within a few days, we didn’t even have to put it on the market. 

We have tried running our lives our own way and proved to ourselves time and again it doesn’t work. We’re still together, though, so the Lord must have been in it with us. Now we’re learning to hand the reins over to Him.

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