Testimony

HOW GOD BROUGHT ME
TO HIMSELF

by Suzanne Sinclair

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Even in my childhood, I thought much about God, a subject that was always dear to my heart. I was raised in a family that was very devoted to the religion to which most of my people-- the French Canadians-- adhere. We were taught to say our prayers and the rosary every day, and were taken to mass every Sunday; and we were thoroughly taught in our church's doctrines by means of the catechism.
As a little girl, I used to enjoy playing "mass" with my little brother, to whom I was very close. He was the priest, and I served the mass. I must admit that I also rather enjoyed eating the cereals that Mom gave us to use as "hosts!"
As I thought about the Lord Jesus, I wished I could somehow get near Him. It seemed that my brother was so privileged to be an altar boy. When he served the mass, he went to the altar, on which was a little box called the "tabernacle;" and we had been taught that Christ was in that tabernacle, and also in the host. I was not allowed to come so close to it, being a girl. One day I asked my brother whether he'd mind doing me a favour. It would be that, during the process of transubstantiation (when the host and wine were to become the body and blood of Christ), he would tell the Lord Jesus that I loved Him very much, and then turn and look at me as a sign that he had done so. He complied with my request.
I had been given a portable statue of Mary, known as Notre-Dame-du sourire, which means "our lady of the smile." Since we had been taught that Christ was in the tabernacle on the altar at church, whereas this statue was always at home, I thought, "Mary must miss her Son!" So one day, before going to mass, I slipped the statue under my coat and took it with me. At the mass I took the statue out and set it on the pew beside me, silently telling it, "Now you'll be able to enjoy being with your Son. He's in the tabernacle and in the host up there." That drew some smiles from people sitting near us!

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I began early to prepare for a musical career, and my parents found me the best teachers they could. I advanced rapidly; and at the age of twelve, I played both a violin concerto and a piano concerto at a concert, accompanied by the Montréal Symphony Orchestra. My teacher had visions of my making a name for myself in the world. Yet with all the glory that there might have been in such a career, I knew that life would be empty and meaningless unless it were filled with God.
A few years later my teacher recommended that I attend a summer musical camp in the state of New York. Though I knew very little English at the time, I managed to communicate adequately with the teachers and fellow-students at the camp. I managed to tell some students of my desire to find God, and of my efforts to make it to heaven by doing my best. One of the students answered, "You can't get to heaven by doing your best. That's why Jesus Christ died for you. You have to take salvation from Him as a free gift." My response was, "Oh yes, I know Jesus died for me, and that I need Him to take me to heaven; but I have to do my part as well." The camp was over soon, and I didn't give much thought to that student's remark for the time being, though it came back to me once in awhile.
Still seeking the best of musical teaching for me, my teacher sent me to New York City for a short time, and then to the University of Indiana. That was where, in his opinion, the instruction would be the very best. But while I was attending that university, my teacher once told me that the life of a professional musician was the most lonely, empty, depressing life to be found. I wondered, "If that's what he thinks of the life of a professional musician, why is he offering it to me?"

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My search for God continued by the means I had been taught to use. Sometimes I got discouraged, and lapsed in my attendance at mass; and at times I was more regular. Several times I stood in line at a confession booth, waiting to obtain absolution before a mass. But, just as the person ahead of me in line had finished confessing to the priest, he would tell me, "The priest can't hear your confession now; he has to go and serve communion." According to what I had been taught, that meant I was deprived of the host, and had to remain with my sins for another week. At other times, just as I came out of the confession booth, I'd remember one sin that I had forgotten to confess, and had to face the same plight.
I sometimes tried to obtain favour from God by burning votive candles. We had been taught that, as long as the candle was burning, we could ask the saint whose statue was above the respective candle for any favour we wanted, and it would be granted. At that time, the big candles sold for a dollar, and the small ones for ten cents. I preferred the big ones when I could get them, as they burned longer, and gave me more hope of obtaining my request. But I still found no assurance of being received by God, or evidence of His presence in my life.

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After a few years, when I was home from the university for awhile, I suffered an internal hemmorhage and almost bled to death. I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. I remember so clearly lying in the hospital, waiting to be operated on very soon, and watching a big clock on the wall. I watched the seconds pass by, wondering how long it would take before I'd enter eternity. I knew I was not ready to meet God. After the operation, not being in a normal frame of mind, I talked a great deal, perhaps not altogether aware of what I was saying. My mother, standing beside me, suggested that I take a rest from talking. But I said, "Oh, that's all right, Mom, as long as I don't tell you my sins."
God spared my life, and I recovered from the hemmorhage. Though eight specialists examining me failed to find the cause of it, they agreed that it would not likely reoccur. I returned to university. The following year, I received a telegram saying that my brother had been killed in a motorcycle accident in Florida. His death had come exactly a month, to the day, before he was to begin his training to be a Jesuit. It was such a painful shock to lose one who had been so dear to me. I went home to the funeral. During the wake in the funeral parlour, in spite of my sorrow, I experienced a strange peace, and a very strong impression that God had chosen me to discover what my brother had been searching for. I wondered how that could possibly be. He had been planning to be a priest. How could I become a priest, being a woman? Could it be by becoming a nun? I gave some serious thought to the idea, but didn't find it altogether convincing, since nuns are not priests.

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Before I had quite finished my studies for a "bachelor of music" degree, I received a job offer from Laval University, in Québec City, to teach the violin there. While my teacher had rather had in mind for me a career of travelling the world as a soloist, this teaching position now seemed more ideal for me, since my health was still quite poor. I accepted the offer, and an American friend came to settle in Québec City with me. We pursued our search for God together. My search once included climbing the stairs of the basilica in Ste-Anne-de-Beaupré on my knees-- even though I had recently undergone ad operation on my legs. I was willing to suffer anything that might give me hope of reaching my goal.
In a more leisurely moment, my friend and I went to a concert. To my surprise, after the concert, a couple I hadn't seen for about a decade came to talk to me. André, the husband, was now a member of the orchestra; and his wife, Janine, had recognized me in the crowd. We were happy to renew our acquaintance. But, more than anything else, that couple was eager to tell me about the "new life" they had found by "trusting in Christ" for "salvation by grace alone." I didn't understand very well what they were talking about, and hesitated to take interest in something so new to me. But they simply encouraged me to read the Bible, assuring me that I'd find the truth in it.

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Before long I took sick again. In the past, when I had been sick, I had spent my time reading a variety of books. I liked to rock in my rocking chair while I read them. But this time I had a very strong impression that God was telling me to buy a Bible, the Book of books, which I would never finish learning from. I was afraid to do so. What if the Bible I bought was a bad translation? Or what if I misinterpreted it? Those were two supposed dangers that we had been solemnly warned to fear. But I realized that God knew my heart's desire; so I committed the matter to Him, asking Him to guide me in my reading.
Oh, dear reader, the Lord Jesus answers prayer! He is true to His promises that say:
You shall seek Me and find Me, when you shall search for Me with all your heart (Jeremiah 29:13).
Seek, and you will find (Matthew 7:7).
He also assures us that the Bible is where we must look for the truth; for He says,
Thy Word is truth (John 17:17).
I had no idea where to begin reading in the Bible. I'm sure it was God who prompted me to read the epistle to the Hebrews. One day I read:
And every priest stands daily ministering and offering often the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins: but this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down at the right hand of God (Hebrews 10:11, 12).
What was that? Had I read it correctly? Why yes, that was really what God's Word said! The shock of that discovery was enough to stop my rocking. The catechism I had learned had asked,
"What is the mass?"

The answer given was,
"The mass is the bloodless sacrifice of Christ, which
He offers continually on the altar."
The verses I had just read flatly contradicted that statement. Christ had been sacrificed only once, and His death was never to be repeated. I just had to pick up the phone, call my friends, and tell them. It was André who answered; and I said, "Hey, André, the mass isn't true, eh?"
"No, of course it's not true!" he replied. He and Janine were happy that God's Spirit was beginning to enlighten me.
I further read in Hebrews 9:24--
For Christ is not entered into holy places made with hands, which are figures of the true, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us.
That was contrary to the claim that Christ was in the "tabernacle" on the altar at the front of the church building. Then, passing on to other books of the Bible, I read--
For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus (I Timothy 2:5). Therefore neither those canonized as "saints," nor our priests, nor even Mary, could serve as a "bridge" to bring me to God. Only the Lord Jesus could. I also learned of my own standing before God when I read--
Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us (Titus 3:5).
For by grace you are saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God-- not of works, lest any man should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God has planned in advance that we should walk in them (Ephesians 2:8-10).
I therefore could claim nothing good on my part to earn or merit salvation; good works in a Christian are the result of salvation, and not a means to obtain it. That was contrary to the notion of obtaining merit through the sacraments.

Trusting only in Thy merit
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace
-- Fanny J. Crosby

Then, imagine my joy when I finally discovered in what way I would fulfil what my brother had been seeking! He had intended to become a priest, and I had wondered how I could possibly fulfil that. Here's how--
But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of His own, that you should show the praises of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvellous light (I Peter 2:9).
Yes, I could become a priest-- not by being ordained as a member of a human "clergy," but by entering the priesthood of all believers the moment I trusted in Christ for salvation. A "priest" is simply someone who has direct access to God, and who doesn't have to pass through human channels like Old-Testament saints had to pass through their Levitical priests. Ever since Christ made His once-for-all sacrifice, all believers have that privilege. The sacrifices that I would offer as a priest would not be a supposed repetition of Christ's death, but rather "spiritual sacrifices"--
PRAISE:
By Him, therefore, let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to His name (Hebrews 13:15);
GOOD WORKS:
But to do good and to share forget not; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased (Hebrews 13:16);
MY BODY, placed at God's disposition to use as He pleases--
I beg you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service (Romans 12:1).
As I discovered these wonderful truths, I trusted in what they taught about our wonderful Saviour. I put my trust in His once-for-all sacrifice to save me on the basis of His merits alone, and in Him as the only Mediator who could bring me to God. In receiving His free gift of eternal life (Romans 6:23), I also entered the priesthood of all believers. I had found my spiritual calling.

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Shortly after I had received the gift of God, I was called on to take an open stand about it. In countries where the official language is French, and the predominant religion Catholicism, it is customary to go to a mass at midnight the night before Christmas. That midnight mass is followed by a feast of sandwiches, meat pies, cake, chocolates, and the like, called the réveillon. Those who practice that custom attach great importance to it. It's often the occasion for gathering together of scattered families. In the past, my family and I had sometimes attended the midnight mass in the church where my uncle served as priest; and then we celebrated the réveillon in his rectory. I knew my family (living in a distant town) would expect me to come home for the occasion this year.
The thought went through my mind that I could simply go, and say nothing about my discoveries in God's Word, and then live my new life when I came back after the holiday season. But very promptly the Spirit of God clearly told me, "No, you can't do that! No man can serve two masters. You can no longer participate in what represents falsehood. You must live your new life now!!" So I phoned my family and told them I wouldn't be coming for the midnight mass and réveillon this year because I was now trusting only in the merits of Christ's once-for-all sacrifice for my salvation.
Understandably, that was a great shock for them. It had been so much drilled into us that the Church of Rome was the only true church, and couldn't be wrong. They thought I had gone out of my senses. It was suggested that the numerous operations I had undergone had affected my mind, and that I should seek psychiatric help. I didn't blame them for their reaction. I only longed for them also to be enlightened, and to trust only in the merits of Christ.
Not much later, the priest who had been my brother's "conscience director" came to visit me. I told him of my new-found faith, and particularly of there being only one Mediator between God and men. He angrily threw my Bible down on the table and said, "You people make up your own interpretations of the Bible. You're not properly trained to understand it." But he didn't even try to give me any other explanation of what I Timothy 2:5 meant.

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Yes, there was a price to pay for following Christ according to the truth He had shown me through His Word; but it made me so happy to know Him that I never wanted to turn back. As I read more and more of God's Word, God drew me closer and closer to His Son, Jesus Christ. The more I got to know the Lord Jesus, the more I rejoiced that I could trust Him completely. I will never thank God enough for His mercy, for His kindness in letting me life. I know now that, if I should die, I will not be condemned, because Christ took on Himself the condemnation that I deserved for my sins. I have eternal life, and will spend eternity with Him. Instead of attending a sacrament that represented falsehood, I now gathered with others who had received God's gift of salvation; and the bond created by our being God's children made them like a family to me.
Still quite early in my new life, I met John, who later became my husband. But we are glad that two issues were settled before we met. John was sure that God had called him to serve Him in French Canada, at least for the foreseeable future; and I was born again and had left the Church of Rome. That made it clear that our meeting had had nothing to do with either. John had not decided to settle in French Canada in order to marry me, and I had not "changed my religion because I was in love"-- as some said I had. Both those steps had been taken, and the issues settled, before we even knew each other.
In our life together, we sought to serve the Lord in any way that opened up to us. After a number of years, the Lord called John to an itinerant Bible-teaching ministry; and I have been happy to travel with him as much as my health has permitted-- which, remarkably, has been most of the time. I still play my violin, particularly at Christian weddings, and at meetings where John preaches. When I play at assembly meetings, we post the words for our audience to follow, and invite them to sing along as soon as they've picked up the tune-- since we consider it very important that they get a message from the "special number," and not just some pleasant sounds. This usually means that they learn a new song. This is what God was preparing me for, even long before I knew how to find Him, since He had chosen me "before the world was." And, instead of the "lonely, empty, depressing life" that my former teacher implied I'd have as a professional musician, I am so happy to use music to glorify the King of kings!

Anyone desiring help to find God, whether or not he or she is from a similar background to Suzanne's, is invited to contact us at our adress on the front page (e-mail or snail-mail)

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A WORD FROM JOHN

Dear readers, having read my "better half's" story, do you see why we need to bring the Gospel to Roman Catholics? Do you see why we cannot simply recognize them as being of our number the way they are? We love their souls, and long to see them delivered from that false hope by which they are bound.
How our Saviour's loving heart must be grieved by the very idea of "Evangelicals and Catholics Together," or to hear a famed evangelist say he is "very comfortable with the Vatican!"
The pope tries to talk evangelical language when he's in countries where there are more Protestants than Catholics. But missionaries to Latin America tell us that, when the pope is down there, he reminds Catholics that the number of Evangelicals in their countries is growing at a faster rate than the population. And, he exhorts them to "wake up and do something about it!"
Dear brethren, let us wake up and contend for the pure Gospel of salvation by grace alone, received through faith alone, and taught by the Word alone!