Lisa Barry's Testimony

I drove to his house because he asked me to. We had just gotten back together after a breakup, so it felt good to pull up to the curb of his parents' house again. We sat in the family room, and his little dog with the soft golden coat jumped up on my lap.

My boyfriend seemed unsettled. Unsure. And maybe even a little scared.

Suddenly, all those feelings transferred over to me. Finally, he got the words out.

"Lisa, you're just not the one that I want."

Silence.

Gee. How do you respond to that?
Okay?
Thank you?
What?

I sat there for a minute, my eyes grazing the shag carpeting for inspiration.

"Well, okay then. There's not much I can do about that. So, I just want to say, 'I love you,' and I hope you change your mind. But if you don't, I hope you find what you do want."

I kissed him on the forehead and walked with wobbly knees back out the front door.

My breath turned to clouds as I made my way to Dad's green station wagon.

No tears. Just shock.

That is, until I pulled onto the highway—then it was like driving under a wall cloud, with rain pummeling your windshield faster than the wipers can sweep it away.
But it was only my eyes.

Convulsive cries made it nearly impossible to drive safely, but I just wanted to get home. I pulled into the driveway of my parents' house and fell into the chair next to Mom’s recliner. She said, “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t even get any words out.

I said, “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Please. I really need one.”

“Okay, just one—but I’m not going to watch.”
And she pulled the newspaper up to hide her face while I fumbled to strike the match.

“He told me...” (inhale nicotine)
“I’m not the one that he wants!” (exhale smoke and body-shaking tears)

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” (Still behind the newspaper.)

I’m not entirely sure Mom was being honest, though. She and Dad always thought I could do better than him. So, she may have been sad for my sad, but deep down, she was probably relieved.

For the next six months, I was despondent. Inconsolable.
Depression took over. I dragged myself to work as a women’s sportswear buyer, but I was barely alive.

In fact, I thought to myself, If this is all I have to look forward to—this pain—I don’t know if I can do it. It’s too heavy! It’s too much! It’s not going away!

That’s when someone told me about a church that was “serious about God.” I thought, Well, that sounds good.
So I attended a church service—and was pleasantly surprised.

The only sermons I’d ever heard before that were delivered by sing-songy pastors who couldn’t hold my attention. But this one was different.

And the people at that church! They weren’t bored at all!
In fact, they brought their own Bibles—with cases, no less!
Where was my Bible? I had no idea. But I could see it in my mind—it was the one with the zipper and the little cross charm.

Here’s the best part of the story, though:
Hope found its way back into my broken heart.

In fact, without the broken part, I doubt there would’ve been any way for the hope to sneak in.

It was Jesus who led me there.
It was Jesus who was waiting there.
It was Jesus who offered me a whole new life.
It was Jesus who set my feet on a solid rock.

It’s been Jesus ever since.

I don’t know what you think of Him or what people have told you,
but He turned my sorrow into dancing when nothing else could.
My aimlessness turned into purpose.

And now, 30 years later, I’m a Christian radio DJ.
Isn’t that wild?

And I’m still just as convinced as ever that Jesus is the way that leads to life.

In fact, I think it’s Jesus who led you here today—reading these words.
It’s Jesus who’s waiting here.
It’s Jesus who’s offering you a whole new life.
It’s Jesus who wants to lift you up and set you on a solid rock.

Please say yes.