God’s New Creation - Me!
Since my site is about Jesus and His relationship with you and me, I
have resisted for some time giving any information about myself.
However, I know that there are those who might be curious about the
creator of The Circuit Rider so I consulted with the Holy Spirit inside
me and decided that I need to share just who this person, Merrellee, is
and why I have set myself to share the Gospel here on the web. The best
way to do that is in the form of my own testimony - just as it’s done
in
the Bible, before Jesus (as in the Old Testament), and after
discovering
Jesus (as in the New Testament). Let’s not loose sight of the fact that
in my story, as it is in the Bible, Jesus is the ultimate goal - the
pinnacle of all our stories.
In the beginning, Merrellee was without form and void.
Pathetic is a good word. My parents were loving, caring people,
sacrificing themselves to provide for their children, but their second
of three, Merrellee, was pathetic. Mom used to tell me that I cried
from
the age of six to the age of 21. I can remember as a young child, how
fearful I was of speaking, so I whined. My parents didn’t yell at me or
beat me, but I was afraid of everything! I was intimidated by my
teachers, my fellow students at school, bees, strange vegetables, the
atomic bomb, the dark, my parent’s dying on me, my sister, etc. The
list
is endless.
Later on that fear translated to boys, driving, school (although I
was always a good student), my teachers, spiders, etc. You probably
knew
someone like me in school. You probably didn’t like that person. I
don’t
blame you. I didn’t much like myself.
What is ironic though, is that I was not afraid of speaking to
audiences or performing in front of audiences. My mother started me in
ballet at about the age of 8 and I was like the ugly duckling who finds
that she has swan capabilities! I loved performing and was often asked
to perform at school events or for ladies club meetings or various
civic
events. I loved dressing up in beautiful costumes and remember that
being on stage helped me to forget how pathetic and fearful I was. I
could be someone else in front of an audience. Unfortunately, this
ability to perform set me off from my fellow schoolmates even more. Now
they were able to add to the list of differences they didn’t like about
me. I was shy in small groups, a good student who sought to excel to
please the adults, and a child performer.
So I rebelled - not against my parents and the older generation - but
against my fellow students. In an age when girls wore their hair in
"beehives" and later short "bubblecuts" my hair was a glorious fall of
waves to the center of my back. When they wore plain dresses or jeans
to
the dances, I dressed in chiffon and heels. When their mothers refused
to let them wear makeup, my mother kept my eyelashes dyed and my
eyebrows plucked and was always reminding me to go put on some
lipstick.
When the other girls slumped, my dance teacher, who was a professional
dancer from Europe, threatened to make me wear a hanger across my
shoulders.
In college, when the other girls wore jeans, I made myself pantsuits
from Vogue patterns and used matching turtlenecks and ankleboots - and
gloves. This was during the age of the hippies! I refused to wear
dresses for a long time because everyone was wearing miniskirts. I got
nominated for best dressed student in my Freshman year. When they all
thought I should start smoking, I did. I went out and bought myself one
of those little packages of "Tipperillos" - small cigars with plastic
tips - and I smoked those just to show them I could. They begged me to
stop by the end of a week and never brought up the subject again. When
they were listening to rock and roll, then the beatles, then the other
loud groups, I bought myself classical records. I was a big Strauss
fan.
Marijuana was a big thing in college. But one of the hippies told me
I didn’t need to smoke marijuana because I was always on a "High". I
had
made being different into an art form. I was a drama major in college
and actually tried cussing one time. I dutifully said the four fairly
mild cuss words I knew but altogether as a group, those four words,
said
without inflection and without expression, are rather useless. I will
say this about my fellow drama majors. They accepted my differences
with
good will and did not revile me or shun me.
I still avoided dating and that other big thing - sex. In my act of
rebellion against my peers, I had learned to appreciate and respect
myself and I had learned to rely on myself. I didn’t need a boyfriend
to
appreciate me. I did become very attracted at one time to a fellow who
did not threaten me at all. He was very quiet, but for some reason,
very
well liked. He looked and acted much like Woody Allen and didn’t try to
assault me. Unfortunately he wasn’t very sensible and I was told later
he attempted to perform a "suicide" dive on a mini tramp. They didn’t
let me see him in the hospital and his parents took him home to Chicago
where he died eight years later - still totally paralyzed.
During all this time, the Holy Spirit hovored over me and I know
now that God’s angels were protecting me.
As a very young child, about five or so, I had become fascinated with
the Big Bible that had been given to my parents. Although they were
both
intelligent and good people, and had been raised by godly, church-going
people, my parents had made the decision not to bother with taking
their
children to church. But I couldn’t stay away from that big Bible. I
loved the pictures and all those words fascinated me, although I
couldn’t read. I asked my mother once what it was about and she said
dismissively that it was just a collection of books written by a lot of
men. My dad never mentioned it but he did pray over every meal. I don’t
think I ever really understood who he was praying to or why.
My dad’s mother, who I always called Grandmother Lillian as
instructed, kept giving me children’s books about God, though. And when
I turned 6 years old, she gave me my first Bible, a little rainbow
Bible. Inside the front cover is the Lord’s Prayer and inside the back
cover is the Twenty-Third Psalm. There are also beautiful pictures and
a
listing of the Beatitudes, as well as the Ten Commandments. Somehow I
knew that this Book was very, very special. I probably read in it here
and there, but didn’t really understand what or who it was all about.
My
Grandmother was a very sweet, well-meaning, but very religious lady.
She
didn’t tell me that this Book was all about God’s Son, Jesus. Perhaps
she assumed I was being taught about Jesus somewhere. I think she had
sadly accepted that my parents wouldn’t teach me.
And God said, "Let there be Light!"
At the age of eleven, that little rainbow Bible had called to me and
called to me and I decided to read it. So I did, in my compulsive,
pathetic own way. I read that Bible completely through - one chapter a
night. And I very timidly underlined those scriptures which seemed to
speak to me. One scripture I underlined was John 3:16. That was
probably
the first scripture I memorized - not because someone told me I was
supposed to memorize it, but because I somehow knew it belonged deep
down in my heart. It became my very own secret treasure. I also fell in
love with Romans 8. To that frightened, pathetic child, Romans 8 didn’t
have to be understood, but it became a source of great comfort somehow.
As I look back at those years - years of fear and painful growing, I
can see how God was preparing me to be the person I am today. I can see
how God was planning and ordering my life. I have never had to fight
against unforgiveness and anger and bitterness against my fellow
students because I realize they were reacting in a very normal manner
to
one who is simply - set apart. I was curious about boys, but not really
interested in becoming involved with anyone until my husband because
God
protected me from myself.
In the years of growing up, my favorite activity was, and remains,
Reading. I read everything. I have been known to refer to myself as a
"bookaholic". Today, I make a point of bragging to my daughter that I
have managed to go an entire week or even a month without reading a
book. But in my growing up years, with the Bible (secretly) at the top
of my list, I read everything. My dad would take me with him to the
library which was huge and deliciously mysterious in its silence and I
would check out five or six books at a time. It was during that time I
developed the habit of rereading, over and over, my favorites. I must
have read Swiss Family Robinson at least 10 times. I probably developed
a fixation about Mr. Robinson because of his inventiveness and genius
for being able to fix anything because my husband is exactly the same
way!
Because of my voracious appetite for books, my mom desperately
searched for books which would keep me satisfied. She used to let me
buy
Classic comicbooks and Superman books because I loved fairy tales and
fantasy. In my preteenage years, a friend gave her all - at least 200 -
of her daughter’s old nurse romance paperbacks to let me read. I read
those like eating potato chips and looked around for more. I discovered
romances written by an author who uses the medium to share the Gospel,
Grace Livingston Hill.
While visiting relatives, I had checked out a book by Grace
Livingston Hill from the little traveling library there and though I
don’t remember the story, something within her writing, together with
my
own yearning for the Bible, which I know now to be God’s Word, allowed
me to touch Jesus. I was 11 years old at the time, still ignorant about
God and Jesus and the Bible, but I know, for just that split second of
time, that I was in God’s presence. The memory of that moment has
remained with me throughout my life, as compelling today as the day it
happened. But who could I tell then? My Aunt and cousins all went to
church every Sunday, but I somehow knew they would have no idea what
had
happened to me. I knew no one who would just kneel down and hug me
joyfully and say, "Honey, you’ve been ‘Born Again’." The only person I
recall sharing that experience with to this day is my husband.
I had been saved. But I did not become enlightened until I reached
the age of 40 years.
Dan and I had been married 20 years already. Our daughter was in
college and planning to marry but our relationship with God was fitfull
to nonexistant. Dan had been raised a Methodist and I was a Methodist
by
default, but we would go to church each Sunday for awhile, then stop
for
awhile. Before we moved to Arizona, we had spent at least a full year
or
more really trying to go to church every Sunday and to be Good
Christians. I taught Children’s Choir and became a bell ringer. We both
sang in the choir. I set myself out to become a kind of "personal
assistant" to our minister’s wife who was also the Choir director. But
we were busily "spinning our wheels" and didn’t know it. We were both
dissatisfied with the experience and were thankful to move so we didn’t
have to make excuses about quitting.
We’d been living in Arizona for several months when I woke up one
Sunday morning and clicked on the TV as I went by to fix coffee.
The New Testament of My Life in Jesus Christ.
There was this fellow who sounded just like my husband on TV! He had
Dan’s accent and Dan’s way of expressing himself. He was talking about
the story of David and Goliath and I knew Dan would enjoy hearing the
story put that way. I got excited and called Dan in to hear this guy
who
sounded just like him! He and I both stayed glued to that TV that hour
and heard the whole story. We were finally hearing something from the
Bible - God’s Word - spoken with Fire and Passion! We had never heard
such a thing in our lives! We could remember what he had said and we
wanted to hear more!
That man’s name is Kenneth Copeland and from that day to this -
almost 10 years now - we have watched every Sunday (missing only a few)
and have almost all those broadcasts taped. I wanted to watch the
Believer’s Voice of Victory daily broadcasts, so I prayed for cable to
be added in our tiny community without any stores and in just a few
months, this little community had its only business - a cable company.
On that first day, however, I was cautious and very suspicious about
Television Evangelists. He may have spoken about the Bible, and he may
have been exciting, but I didn’t trust Mr. Copeland one bit! The next
Sunday, he challenged the TV viewing audience. "Don’t believe ME," He
said. "You go to your Bible and you look it up for yourself!" So I took
up that challenge and I spoke right up to that TV - "I Will!"
Dan and I decided that day to stop being ignorant about the Bible. We
had to learn first of all to call the Bible - God’s Word. The word
Bible
isn’t a holy word. Its meaning is almost synonymous with library. It
means - a collection of books. You can see "Bibles" for almost anything
today: The Bible on Guns, the Bible of Automechanics, there’s probably
a
"Bible" on Computers or the Internet.
Kenneth told us during those first days we were becoming acquainted
with him and Gloria, to write inside our Bibles front Cover, "This is
God’s Word to me". He also told us if we couldn’t write in our Bibles
to
put it away and get ourselves a Bible we could write in.
I could relate to that. I remembered how carefully I had underlined,
in pencil, the verses that sustained me during my growing up years. I
could no longer read the tiny print in my Rainbow Bible without
glasses,
so Dan and I each got ourselves new Bibles from Kenneth Copeland
Ministries. We actually ended up buying a total, so far, of 13 Bibles
and more than one devotional to give to our loved ones.
That first year, we began reading the Bible completely through the
first time, just as I had read it all those years ago as a child. But
this time, I read it aloud. We began with the New Testament in August
1992 and ended at the end of the Old Testament on August 12, 1993. We
didn’t go by one of those "Bible in a year" programs. I feel those are
confusing because of trying to mix together both Testaments at a time.
During that time my Dad had a series of heart attacks. We had learned
to pray for our loved ones and we were learning about Faith. Up until
that time, my dad would never have called for help on his own. But my
mother was gone that day and, acting totally out of character, my dad
called the hospital for help. The hospital, located in a small city, is
not known for its progressive measures, but that day, they had a new
drug on hand which, if given in time, will save the life of the heart
attack victim. The doctor, who is known to be rather slow acting, moved
to quickly administer the drug in time. Dad’s life was saved. I believe
it was due to the prayers of protection we had prayed just before he
had
his attacks.
Dad was in another state and we couldn’t go to be with him for
several days. The attacks had frightened him so badly that even though
he was still alive, he expected to die. Remember, he still did not know
Jesus and God’s will for his life. Dad, always a wonderful planner, was
instructing mom what to do about funeral services and what to do about
their insurance. That next Sunday. Gloria Copeland was speaking about
Faith and Healing and I turned to Dan at the end of her sermon and said
in response to what I had heard, "I ought to just call Dad in the
hospital right now and tell him to go home, ‘cause he’s healed." Later
we deduced that at that moment, the doctor in charge of his case came
up
with a new idea for healing him. Today, eight years later, Dad is fine
and enjoys driving to different states to visit relatives and friends.
His heart shows no signs of damage after five heart attacks.
This past Christmas, Dad gave me my most wonderful Christmas gift
ever. While saying the blessing for our Christmas dinner, Dad actually
thanked God for His Son, Jesus. That is the first time I ever remember
my dad saying the precious name of Jesus. I almost broke down crying,
which would have embarrassed my dad terribly.
Four years ago, my mother decided to go be with the Lord. My mother’s
health had always been very poor although people were always amazed at
how stoic and brave she was about all she was going through. I wish now
she could have had the peace of Jesus in her life. As I look back,
having learned about God’s love and His will for us, I can see how
mother’s health could have been so much better and her life so much
richer if she had known Jesus and God’s Word. I remember asking her
once
if she had ever read the Bible. She said she tried once or twice, but
it
bored her and put her to sleep. I recognize now that I, like Jesus was
about the Nazarenes in Mark 6:6, was amazed at her unbelief.
In her last days, though, I know mom experienced a deep peace in her
life and I believe Jesus’ love surrounded her totally in those days.
About a year before she let go of life, she had been very ill in the
hospital and I told her then she didn’t have to go until she was good
and ready. I demonstrated my faith in her leaving the hospital that
time
by going right out and buying the yarn to knit her a sweater coat which
she knew would take me at least six months. She lived to wear that coat
and the jaunty cap I had designed to match it.
God has promised us long life in his Word. He has promised that we
will be satisfied with life. If we have made Jesus Lord of our lives,
we
are to expect His Word to come to pass in our lives. Just like Rahab
did
in the city of Jericho, we can bring our families with us. Joshua 2:18.
Rahab let down that Scarlet thread to indicate that her house should be
left alone and God’s army honored the sign of that Scarlet thread.
Today
we know that Scarlet Thread to be the symbol of Jesus’ blood which we
have learned to pray over our families.
Mom’s passing became a time of such peace and joy for me. Mom had
experienced the terrible pain of the consequences of being without God
most of her life and letting herself be bitter and angry almost all of
her life. But in her last days, she finally had the peace of God within
her, and I Praise God for that. I thank my Dad too, for his devoted,
loving care of her. Mom didn’t want to suffer the pain anymore, but her
going was filled with God’s grace and mercy. Her four sisters and one
of
her brothers and many friends were there to say goodbye and there were
no tears. I had learned to pray in the spirit and knew God was with me
throughout mom’s passing. I was rested and at peace and felt such
strength and I give God all the Praise and all the Glory.
I continue the story of Jesus' continuing presence in my life in my
upcoming installment, "God's Maturing Creation". You will be able to
access it at that time by selecting the "Next" button located below.
