Witness of the Spirit

By Doug Thompson

If you are born again, and have experienced the Witness that comes with becoming a child of God, then this book is written for you.

 

Christian maturity implies you have undergone a process of training and are at a place where you can distinguish between what is good and what is evil. Even so, as you mature as a Christian you need to come to place where you can discern the promptings or checks that come from the Spirit living inside of you and use them. This takes time and is an art.

 

This book is not intended to be a book of teaching (though I trust you will learn from it), but one of testimony; of how to learn to hear God's promptings and voice.

 

Many of the Gifts of the Spirit are described in this book and though they are interesting, they come as the Spirit wills them. We can't push a button and operate them. The ways in which the Lord spoke to me are also described, but underlying all this is the comfort I find in the witness of His Spirit indwelling me.

 

Through this book I trust the Lord opens the adventurous element in you and challenges you to make Him your teacher.

 

'For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God' (Romans 8:14, KJV).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Doug Thompson
• Release date: Mar 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393625438

Book preview

1

Early years — background

The question that Aunt Bessie Theron asked was, 'Jesus is coming again and will you be ready?' It blew my mind. She emphasised what she had just asked by adding, 'He'll be coming again and will appear in the clouds to take us up to be with Him.' Up till then the Gospel had been presented to me as dry and dead, simply a book of stories of Adam and Eve, or Samson and Joseph, by teachers who were obviously not convinced of their relevance to a young boy of thirteen. This incident happened at the Methodist Church Junior Guild. I had been taken there by my great pal, Georgie Walker, who lived next door.

I was born in England in 1947 and emigrated to South Africa with my parents when I was two. My Mom and Dad had met and married in Egypt during the war. My Mom was in the South African Forces and my Dad the British Army. They initially settled in the United Kingdom but because my Mom missed South Africa, my Dad accepted a posting to the British Embassy in Pretoria, the capital of South Africa. I grew up in Lyttelton, which is a few miles outside of Pretoria.

My family were not churchgoers. My father was an agnostic, but he allowed us to make our own choices about religion. My Mom was a nominal believer but her faith was not sufficient to get her to a church. Our neighbours, the Walkers, who were Methodists, asked if we were interested in going to Sunday School and so my brothers and I were sucked in because Georgie went, but I hated every minute of it. I suspected the guild was the same as Sunday School except I heard they played games there and that appealed to me, but I had my doubts about whether I would like it any better.

In rural Lyttelton at that time, the prospect of games was an attraction because nothing much of a social nature happened there, apart from church fêtes, Boy Scouts and the occasional circus pulling into town. Lyttelton didn’t even have a swimming pool. We had to cycle to an army camp about four kilometres away for a swim and that was illegal anyway, as the pool was meant only for the kids of army personnel. But we thought nothing of the bike ride to the pool, which was part of the Huckleberry Finn-type of life we enjoyed so much.

In all respects Lyttelton was a great place to grow up in. There were caves all round to explore, rivers nearby to adventure in and, in the vast open fields around town, there were ant heaps to dig up, to look for mole snakes. All the local kids used to play street cricket and we all knew everyone who lived within a radius of three to five blocks. On a Friday night, Mr. Walker would take us with him to watch stock cars and motorbike scrambler racing in Pretoria. On a Saturday we could go to the morning show at the Capital bioscope in Pretoria, twenty minutes away by train, and swap comics, or again, we could cycle the four kilometres to the army camp which showed movies on Saturday afternoons. And that was about it for Lyttelton.

One morning Georgie told me that he had given his heart to Jesus at the Junior Guild. I was impressed because he was my pal, and it was cool if he thought that was great. At the guild they sang choruses, which was different from Sunday School, where hymns were all that we sang. What was more, the leaders and the other kids at the guild sang them enthusiastically. The first chorus I ever sang there was:

'Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning, burning, and burning,

Give me oil in my lamp, I pray.'

In a way, this chorus was to be prophetic in my life. At the guild we played a number of games, after which the leader would give us a short Gospel message. For me, it was the only place where the Gospel was shared, loudly and clearly, in the local church. The leader, known to us as 'Aunt Bessie', a lady in her late forties or early fifties, endeared herself so much to us and was such great fun, that in this kid's eyes she earned the unrestricted right to speak straight into my heart. She lived opposite the Methodist Church and had volunteered to do the youth work. I thank God for that and for the loving example of a child of God that she presented.

Aunt Bessie's words entered my heart and challenged me. The conviction of wanting to respond to the Love of Jesus was overwhelming. However, being a chronically shy person at that time, each time Aunt Bessie extended the invitation, I didn't have the courage to go forward to give my heart to the Lord. I so wanted to and I had this tremendous admiration for all the others who did have the gumption to do it. Weeks and months went by; many invitations were given but the battle and the fear of going forward persisted to the point of producing panic within me. What if Jesus appeared on the clouds and I hadn't gone forward? Every cumulus cloud that summer was a reminder to me that I wasn't yet ready for Him. I hoped He didn't come that week as I hadn't given my heart to Him. I wondered if they'd have another invitation and I was tormented that I may have missed the last one they were ever going to offer. I could hardly wait for the next meeting and silently vowed that I would definitely go forward the next time.

As it turned out I would chicken out again when the next opportunity arrived.

My focus was diluted mildly when I met Dawn Papenfus. She would later become my sister-in-law when she married Billy, my older brother. She was a pretty girl whom I noticed at the guild. She soon became the focus of my undying puppy love and we used to send silly love notes to each other signed off with words like ITALY — (I Trust And Love You) or HOLLAND — (Hope Our Love Lasts And Never Dies. The courage to say the words face-to-face never really materialised but it was outrageous fun to two kids who were discovering their hormones. Needless to say, such was the quality of her love for me that Dawn agreed to become my girlfriend, provided I got Georgie Walker to take her sister as his girlfriend. I wasted no time in asking him and for my sake he reluctantly agreed. After all, we were pals — and that's what pals were for.

One guild night, there was no invitation extended, but I noticed Dawn talking to Aunt Bessie in the church vestry and I overheard her asking if she could give her life to Jesus. That was exactly the wake-up call I needed. Surely, if Dawn could give her life to the Lord, and she was just a girl, (every male knows that a girl has less courage than a boy), and if she had the courage to ask to receive the Lord as Saviour outside of the normal invitation, then I definitely could do the same. I approached Aunt Bessie after she had finished praying for Dawn and asked, quite timidly if she minded if I too, could give my heart to the Lord. Aunt Bessie looked tired and I wasn't too sure whether she would agree to do so. She did though! She prayed the 'Sinner's Prayer' with me, asking to repeat it after her, which was great, and just when I thought it was all done, she asked me to pray a prayer from my heart. For me as a shy person my moment of truth had arrived. Could I reveal my heart in public? I trusted and loved Aunt Bessie enough to try. I found myself praying, with all the pent-up anxious desire in my heart, 'Jesus, please come into my heart and clean all the cobwebs out.'

An overwhelming sense of joy, freedom and inner cleansing hit me and I could have exploded into song with the sense of myself belonging to Him. I had done it! Jesus was mine. Bring on the clouds! Bring on the second coming! I was ready! To this day I would like to pull up the tiles on that vestry floor as a memorial of that first, wonderful, witness of his Spirit telling me that I was his child. I was smiling from ear to ear, and if they hadn't been in the way, I would have smiled even more broadly. After thanking Aunt Bessie enthusiastically, I rode off home from the guild on my bicycle as the sun was setting. It was the most beautiful evening with a magnificent sunset. The clouds were glorious and worthy of his coming, the sky bluer than ever, the grass greener and my bicycle under me ever so light. I wove from side to side all the way home.

I sang choruses as I carried my bicycle over the railway bridge near home. When I reached home I jumped up and down on my bed, over and over again, for the sheer joy and exhilaration I felt on being born again and on seeing God and his creation, as though for the first time. Heaven had just exploded in my heart!

Not long after I was saved, Aunt Bessie and her husband were transferred to another town and I found it difficult to sustain the joy of the Lord. At the age of thirteen, peer pressure became a strong force and many of my friends who had earlier found the Lord were drawn off to other pastimes. Sadly, Georgie Walker was included in those who fell away at that time. Nevertheless, I continued attending the guilds and progressed from Sunday School to Junior Church where Thora and Eric Derman, a born-again couple, taught on biblical prophecy and the end times. I enjoyed those sessions and together with Andre Bosch, a new guild friend, they provided precious fellowship which helped me to survive. I had still not been entirely delivered of my timidity, as illustrated by the first time I had to pray a prayer in front of a lot of people. I was asked by the leader of the Junior Church to open in prayer and literally, my heart was willing but my flesh was weak. I was terrified by the prospect and as I prayed, I wet myself as well. That remains the most embarrassing moment of my life as my shoes quietly filled with wetness and a puddle appeared at my feet.

The guild Easter camps, in which all Methodist churches of the Pretoria Circuit participated, provided a platform for the rededication of one's life to the Lord. I looked forward to these occasions to renew the initial, joyful experience I had received with the Lord. At one of these camps a leader gave a lasting and precious example of how important fellowship is. Taking glowing coals from the evening campfire he illustrated how a coal standing alone dies quicker than one in a group of glowing coals. This truth is still relevant today and Christians who do not see the need, or relevance of fellowship, prayer meetings and Bible Studies, or of going to church, are missing the whole point of fellowship.

Billy (my older brother) and Andre Bosch's two older brothers, Fred and Louis, had given their lives to the Lord around that time and became active, and eventually leaders, in the Senior Guild of the church. All three would later enter the Methodist ministry. The teaching at the Senior Guild was based on four foundational themes – cultural, social, devotional and educational. Their meetings therefore embraced outings such as trips to the observatory, the Pretoria Muslim temple to understand other faiths, the skating rink, or to hear a talk by the police commissioner on drug abuse, mainly dagga (marijuana) and talks on alcoholism. There was also an annual carol singing event on Christmas Eve from the back of an open truck, culminating in a late-night watermelon feast, which, to the great delight of all of us, usually degenerated into a watermelon fight. While this built up a group identity, sadly the spiritual element was never the highlight. The old adage that you cannot take people further than what you have progressed yourself was true, but we were not aware of this at the time.

As I continued on to Senior Guild, I started helping the leaders at the Junior Guild as an assistant leader, helping mainly with the games. I had just turned sixteen. In the interim, Billy, Fred and Louis had made contact with the Youth for Christ (YFC) interdenominational organisation where it was popular to present Billy Graham-type teaching through the medium of his films at many of their meetings. The influence of the YFC affected the older brothers and increased the spiritual atmosphere at the Senior Guild. I found comfort in having other sincere believers around me, even though they were four years older than me.

At that stage I had won three people to the Lord. I shared the Lord with all of them and encouraged them to join the Sunnyside Methodist Guild in Pretoria. They did so and I started to develop an interest in sharing Christ with others.

The first person I led to the Lord was a young boy who later died tragically when he fell while swinging on a rope over a dry river bed and punctured his kidney. The second was an effeminate guy who, for obvious reasons, was ostracised by our classmates. I knew that Jesus loved the rejected and the unloved and I felt motivated by this to offer him a hand of friendship. While in my final year at high school this guy