As a young girl, she did all that was expected of her from the church. Baptized as an infant, she received her first communion in a little white dress with white gloves and shiny patent-leather shoes; she faithfully went to confession and attended church faithfully with the family. That was my sister, Beth (a.k.a Mary Beth). Something changed in college, where she first received a nursing degree and then studied English literature. She took her first career job working for the RCA company in New Jersey. Sometime during this period, she was diagnosed with a thyroid problem and having it partially removed wreaked havoc on her emotions. She was consigned to a regimen of a synthetic thyroid hormone for the rest of her life.

Somewhere along the way, church faded to the background, and she got caught up in the fast lane of life, being a young, attractive, professional woman working in a field that did not exist for women five years earlier. Her specialty was communications and technical writing. Assignments involved working at times in the Pentagon and hobnobbing in the corporate world with all its benefits for an up-and-coming young female star.

She married a fellow twenty years her senior, and the marriage ended in divorce several years later. Remarriage followed, this time to a fellow who “helped” her exit the first marriage. After moving to Anaheim, California, that marriage fell apart as well. She was now forty years old. At the same time as her marriage fell apart, our grandfather died (1989) and then our father (1990); she lost her job in middle management and found that her newly single lifestyle did not mix well socially with her married friends. Life for her caved in.

One day, she called me on the phone and asked if she could come live with my wife and me and our children in Rochester, New York. From previous interactions with her, I was wary. When I had come to faith in Jesus Christ in 1972, she was initially interested, but somewhere over the years, she became distant and then angry with God (and mad at me for bringing up God in our conversation). When I say angry, I mean ANGRY. But then, when her life fell apart, she asked to live with us.

For three or four months, there was peace in the house. She came to church with us, and we talked about spiritual things. I told her how Jesus’ closest friends abandoned Him in his greatest need; He knew what it was like having one friend betray Him and another deny that he ever knew Him (and three times no less). And Jesus knew what it felt like being alienated from His Father, when on the cross, he cried out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” For the first time in her life, Beth began to understand that Jesus really was human and knew what it was like to feel as she did.

I remember telling her about God’s love as demonstrated by Jesus Christ sacrificing Himself on the cross. He was a human being just like us but also God in the flesh. Her eyes began to open, and she realized that she had been looking for love in the wrong places.

Then one fateful day, everything changed. At our kitchen table, we talked about forgiveness and salvation and what that meant. She felt something was stopping her from really believing in Jesus, a barrier keeping her from trusting God to forgive her for all her sin. How could she really believe that Jesus had died for her? Using simple illustrations, I was able to show her that maybe there was no barrier between her and God but that she was facing away from God. She had turned her back on God. All she needed was to turn to the Lord, confess her sin, and receive Jesus into her life.

She looked stunned, and after what seemed an eternity, she finally said she would have to think about these things. Feeling a bit defeated, I left for work. About thirty minutes later, she called. As best as I can remember, the conversation went something like this: she wanted to go over it all again, about God’s love and forgiveness, about Jesus dying for her while she was still a sinner, and not having to wait until she became a good person. She even quoted (in some fashion) the verse in the Bible that says, “God demonstrated his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8).

She asked me again to confirm that all she had to do was confess and receive Christ into her life as a free gift. Did she understand it correctly? To that, I said yes. She was always good with words, and she had indeed repeated back to me profound truths of how to get right with God.

So I asked her, “Why are you telling me all this?” She said, “Because I did it.” Wanting to clarify it to ensure there was no mistaking, I asked, “What exactly did you do?” Her reply, “I received Jesus.” I asked, “When?” She responded, “Just now.” I said, “Wait right there, I’m coming home.” Lord forgive me if I broke the speed limit racing home. When I walked in the front door, she was there to meet me with a smile I had never seen on her face. She was beaming with new life. I asked her how she felt about it all. Without batting an eyelash, she blurted out, “I want to run up and down the street and grab people by the shoulders, shake them and plead, ‘Why don’t you believe?!’”  I couldn’t help but laughingly tease her, “But how long did it take you to come to accept God’s love?”

Well, she truly believed, and she was a changed person. The generosity I saw in her as an older sister when I was a kid many years earlier began to blossom. The circumstances of her life continued to be hard for her for the next three or four years, but she never wavered in her faith. Old habits do not change quickly, but her soul was renewed, and she never questioned God’s love for her.

She moved back to the West Coast, to Oregon, to reconnect with our younger brother, Jim, and his family. While there, her health deteriorated and her money slowly ran out. In 1995, Jim went to investigate why he had not heard from her for a week or so, and found her comatose in the bedroom of her rented house. Taken to the hospital, she revived for a few days but then took a turn for the worse.

I had a strange but comforting peace from God at the funeral, as though He were saying to me, “Don’t grieve for Beth; she is forgiven and in a far better place now, you can be assured of that. I have put a stop to the ravages of the world in her life; enough is enough. She is a trophy of My grace. And she is with Me, now forever.” I rest in the assurance that along with Beth, I, too, am a trophy of God’s grace.

I will end this by letting Beth speak for herself in the testimony given at her baptism on April 15, 1990.

A country and western song from a few years back contains a line which summarizes my life before Christ. “I was looking for love in all the wrong places…”

Then on March 29, 1990, I “merely” turned around and standing there was all the Love in the world, and Love beyond my comprehension! For there stood my Lord and my Savior with outstretched arms—waiting for me. For me!

I realized through [the many Christians in my life] that the Lord was preparing me for His purposes.

I have found—No, I have turned to the Lord and thus found Love in the Right place—the only place!

Thank you, my Lord and Savior. My life is now dedicated to You and Your will!

I have no home but with You.

I know no perfect love except Yours.