Help! I’m Tired of Religion by Pearl Adams
Chapter 3
DON’T SETTLE YOUR DEBTS:
GIVE THEM TO JESUS
I grew up in the backwaters of Cardiff in the United Kingdom. My parents emigrated from Ukraine in 1987, very close to my sixteenth birthday. Because of the language barrier, I had very few friends, but this changed when I enrolled in a public school in the town, along with my only sister, who was seven.
My fondest memories of Cardiff are the times my family spent in church, especially during the Christmas and Easter seasons. This Christian foundation was to be my salvation in later years, when I moved to London, far from the godly influence of my parents.
Two years after I relocated to London, I secured employment with a law firm owned by a distant cousin, Mallow Peter. He was Malov Petiev in Ukraine. I guess he changed his name to suit the environment. My pay wasn’t fantastic. I got by through the allowances my parents sent me every week.
Both of them lectured at Cardiff University, and they operated a small eatery in town in their free time. At that time, I felt the future was very bright for me, because I aspired to make something worthwhile out of my life. I certainly didn’t plan to live from hand-to-mouth, or be a burden to my folks.
In the summer of 1991, there was a dramatic change in the fortunes of the law firm, when my uncle won a landmark case that put him in the limelight. He was hired by an actress, Diane Bosworth, to handle a libel suit she filed against the Daily Mirror magazine.
One of its correspondents had filed a report alleging that Bosworth had undergone comprehensive cosmetic surgery at a clinic in Spain.
Although the magazine tendered pictures of the actress, purportedly taken at the clinic, showing her with bandages on her face, my cousin and his team of solicitors were able to prove that the lady was at her mother’s home in Wales at the time she was supposed to have undergone the surgery.
Even now, I don’t know how my cousin was able to convince the jury, because it was obvious to those who witnessed the proceedings at the court that Miss Bosworth’s nose had been tampered with, judging by old pictures of hers presented by the Daily Mirror.
Anyway, my cousin’s victory opened doors for us beyond the shores of the United Kingdom, as people of all sorts, including Hollywood stars, sought his services. His success encouraged me to enrol for a part-time law program at the University of Cardiff. My cousin was very supportive.
At the end of the program, I continued with his law firm for four years before I took my leave to start a new life in the United States. With my wealth of experience, I hit gold in California, where I decided to make my home. Easy success, they say, is intoxicating.
I was obviously not mature enough to handle mine. At thirty years of age, I had a long list of clients that read like “Who’s Who in North America.” I became careless. I allowed some characters I called friends to lure me into gambling.
Before I knew it, I had sold all my exotic cars and houses. My father flew in from London in the height of it all, but I was too far gone to listen to sound counsel.
It was at this time that I met a lady who claimed she was a “prophetess.” That day is burned into my memory like it happened yesterday. I was sitting at a bar at the Gigogo Restaurant, a popular relaxation spot in southern California, when the lady walked up to me.
She had a big smile on her face. I liked the smile but I wasn’t in the mood for female company. In fact, any company, for that matter. She didn’t seem to mind my unpleasant disposition. She stretched out her hand with an easy smile.
“Hello, stranger. I’m Gazelle Johnson.”
I felt like telling her, “Lady Gazelle, go hawk your big smile somewhere else.” I found myself muttering, “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Gregory Shevardnadze.”
Without waiting for my invitation, she pulled out a chair and sat by my side. I was too irritated by her action to think of a fitting response to her brashness. “I guess you need company,” she said.
When she realized I wasn’t game, she opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed to me. It was a flier for a church program. I didn’t feel it was necessary to antagonize her further, so I collected the paper with a smile that masked my resentment.
I wasn’t ready for God and, for that matter, I wasn’t ready to waste my time embracing any religion. I stuffed the flier into my shirt pocket and continued with my introspection. My life wasn’t headed in the direction I had anticipated and I just didn’t know how to get myself out of the doldrums of debts, depression, and helplessness.
On getting home, I pulled out the paper, intending to have a glance at it before dropping it in the trash can. The headline caught my attention. It read, “Is Your Life Drifting Out Of Control? Jesus Can Give It Balance.” “I sure need this,” I said to myself.
The gist of the whole thing was that Jesus desired to turn things around for me “if I invite him into my heart.” The author left a telephone number imploring those interested in “a new life” to call the pastor of Saints Arise Assembly.
On getting home, I pulled out the paper, intending to have a glance at it before dropping it in the trash can. The headline caught my attention. It read, “Is Your Life Drifting Out Of Control? Jesus Can Give It Balance.”
My hand reached for the phone more than three times before I summoned the courage to dial the number. A male voice answered at the other end, and inquired about my mission. After giving him a run-down on my encounter with the strange woman and the fact that I had read the flier, he gave me an appointment to see him at 6:00 p.m. next day.
The following morning, I contemplated calling off the appointment. I wasn’t cut out for this kind of life, I told myself. Somehow, I dragged myself to the church office, a quaint little building sandwiched between a printing press and a disused warehouse on Oakland Avenue.
The interior of the church office was pleasant to the eyes. Whoever did the furnishings had great taste. I was impressed. A pretty girl at the counter ushered me into the pastor’s office; apparently, he’d been expecting me.
“Hullo, I’m Pastor Reis Sunderland. You must be Gregory. Can I call you Greg? Do sit down please. Lillian, get Mr. Shevardnadze something to drink.”
The girl turned to me with a most charming smile. I wasn’t really thirsty, but I had to mind my manners. “Soda will do, please.”
As soon as the girl was out of earshot, I poured out my heart to the pastor. All inhibition was gone. I needed to be free of the debt burden, and get on with my life. He listened with rapt attention until I was done talking.
I expected him to respond immediately, but he sat still, tapping his brow intermittently. After about three or four minutes, he opened the leather-bound book before him. I guessed it was the Bible. That would make sense, considering his profession. The moment he read some lines from it, I knew I’d guessed right.
“Greg, your problem is simple. There is only one person who can help you remove the heavy burden the devil has placed on your life. His name is Jesus Christ. I want to read a chapter in the book of John to help you appreciate why you must hand over this load to God.
In John 8:12, Jesus said, ‘I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t be stumbling through the darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.’ You will agree with me that the pain you experienced were manifestations of lack of understanding of God’s purpose for your life.
You need to invite Jesus into your life right away. He is the only guarantee for a stress-free life. Are you willing to make this important decision now, or would you rather chew on it until we meet again?”
I must confess that I didn’t have a full grasp of what the pastor said that evening. At the same time, I didn’t want to postpone the inevitable. I was desperate enough to jump into the boat with Jesus, though I wasn’t really acquainted with his ways.
Of course, my major interest was getting myself out of the stranglehold of debt and beginning life afresh. The way I saw it, I had nothing to lose by becoming a Christian. I was already at rock-bottom. My voice sounded thin in my ears as I responded, “I’m ready to make peace with my creator, Pastor.”
Visibly elated, the pastor reached out and grabbed my hand, then patted me on the back. He said, “You won’t regret making this decision, my friend.” Still holding on to me, he led me in what he said was the “sinner’s prayer.”
When he eventually let go of me, he opened a drawer and brought out a copy of Eugene Peterson’s The Message Bible. “Here, take this. It will be of great help to you because it’s written in contemporary English.
You can acquire other translations like the King James Version if you feel pressed to do so. Otherwise, this should supply the milk you need to grow in the Lord.”
I accepted the Bible gingerly. It was my first encounter with God as an adult. Although my parents were very religious, they didn’t force their beliefs on their children. They were also very tolerant of people who opposed their religious beliefs.
I thanked the pastor, and promised him that I would try to follow the teachings of Jesus. As he escorted me out of his office, he said casually, “You need to fellowship with other Christians to have a better understanding of the body of Christ.
We hold our services every Sunday and Wednesday at the warehouse beside this office. We are hoping to move to the permanent site of the church close to Sunset Boulevard, soon. Of course, you can choose to attend service at any other church if you so wish.”
I promised him I’d think about it, and walked into the starlit night. It was about eight o’clock. I had spent close to two hours with the pastor. With the promise of full restoration still ringing in my ears, I launched into Christianity with all the energy I could muster.
I eventually decided to worship at Pastor Sunderland’s church. I didn’t actually have much of a choice in the matter, as I hadn’t interacted with many Christians worthy of that name to seek their advice on the issue.
My first three months in the church were eventful. I attended the foundation class for new believers for three weeks, after which I was baptized by immersion. On the eve of the baptism, the pastor and his assistant, David Clifford, spoke with me about the baptism in the Holy Ghost. They encouraged me to pray fervently for it, so that I could receive it immediately after my immersion in water.
Despite the fact that I went to immersion in a fast, I came out of the water without receiving the baptism in the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking in tongue. I was deeply disappointed with God, but I masked my feelings in the presence of other worshippers.
What I saw as my rejection by the Holy Spirit gave me a complex; hence, I resolved to work hard in his vineyard to meet his approval. I proceeded to join three service groups in the church—hospitality, decoration, and utility—in addition to running errands for the pastor.
I was all the while expecting a breakthrough in my careers and finances. Nothing spectacular happened after seven months of “serving the Lord.” I became concerned enough to take the matter to God. He ignored all my entreaties. The pastor and his team weren’t of much help either.
After three years of giving all my time to God in that church without any fruit as I saw it at the time, I moved to Texas, with the hope of finding a pastor who would help me get across to God. I attended eight churches in quick succession before I threw in the towel.
I was through with religion and the God of the Bible. One day, while taking stock of my life, the Lord came down to my level and communicated his purpose for my life to me. When I heard his voice, I wasn’t frightened because peace flooded my being. Somehow, I knew it was the voice of Jesus. I didn’t need to strain my ears to hear him.
He said, “Only my Father draws people to me; that’s the only way you can receive my salvation. When you try to earn it, you insult my Father. Only his spirit can restore what sin and the devil have destroyed. You can’t choose to be born again.
It is my Father who draws people to himself by his spirit, but you can reject the eternal life I offer. My disciples are not begotten by the will of man; neither can anyone receive the new life I give by ‘hard work.’ Yes, I admit you did your best to please me.
So long as you serve me in your own strength instead of by my grace through the Holy Spirit, you cannot enter into my rest. “Your Christian experience is a classic case of new wine in old wine skin. You sought God on your terms, without a change of heart.
Without a transformed life by the power of the Holy Ghost, all you have is a dead religion. You received a gospel without the power of the Holy Ghost which would’ve given you a new heart. That’s not the gospel I committed into the hands of Paul the Apostle, for the Gentiles.
“You can’t enjoy the liberty I give except you’re tired of religion. Many Christians enjoy living in bondage. They embrace doctrines that deny them the freedom to worship the Father in spirit and in truth. Instead of running to me to enjoy my rest, they put their necks under the yoke of religion.
My Father didn’t send me to birth another religion. I came to give you abundant life. Are you thirsty enough to drink the water of life that’s yours for the asking? Walk with me closely, and I will unveil to you the secrets of life.
I will not give you any yoke that will crush you; all you’ll receive from me will give you entrance into the holy of holies. There, in the presence of my Father, you’ll learn to live a stress- free life. Free from oppression, poverty, and joylessness.”
As his words burned the dross from my heart, I felt cleansed. I remembered the scripture in John 15:3, “Now you are clean through the word which I have spoken to you.” Without any prompting, I knelt by my bed and surrendered my life to God for the first time. This time, I was conscious of what I was doing. I felt light-hearted and without a care in the world.
Jesus was true to his word. He gave rest to my soul and enrolled me in the school of life run by the Holy Spirit. I went through another wilderness experience for six months after God drew me out of the mire, but this time, Jesus was my constant companion.
It was he who showed me that it was utter folly for any Christian to claim the promises of God without abiding in his word. This important message was given to me after I fasted for several days and confessed some scriptures, especially Deuteronomy 28:1–18, fully expecting God to honour his word and give me a breakthrough in my career.
Two days later, the Holy Spirit spoke to me very clearly. “People who have developed skills in certain professions are hardly at the mercy of their employers. Don’t you notice that they are always in demand and admired? You need to develop the skills I’ve put in you.
That’s the only way to survive in a world with a shrinking labour market. If you develop your skills, I promise to open doors for you to excel in your chosen field. You have skills that lie buried in you. Until you exercise them, don’t expect a full measure of my blessing.
I have said that I would bless the work of your hands. Stop praying about this matter if you won’t obey me. I have no use for prayers from people who use their religion to mask their laziness. Wake up from your slumber and put your hands to good use!”
I wish I can say that my deliverance from sloth and deception was easy. Far from it! First, I had to pull down the strongholds of the devil through the lies I had come to accept as the gospel of Christ. I had accepted the deception peddled by some uninformed Christians that all I needed to have success in life was to confess the right scriptures.
With the warning of the Holy Spirit still fresh in my mind, I secured a job at a small printing press close to where I lived. I had always wanted to be a printer. I didn’t know God’s hand was in it. By this time, I was a pariah in the law profession. None of my clients or acquaintances wanted anything to do with me.
Five months later, the owner of the printing press, an elderly man of Australian origin, took ill and died. He had arrived in California with four children, but three of them perished in an automobile accident.
His wife and only surviving son weren’t keen on continuing with the business. Two of the older staff—we were eight—said they were interested but had no cash at hand. I wired my dad and uncle, and they sent me the money immediately.
Today, I have a business flourishing by all standards. I eventually paid off all my debts, in obedience to God’s word that I should owe no man anything except love. I enjoy the peace of God in all areas of my life. My wife and children are crazy about the Lord and we go out as a family to take the gospel of Christ to unbelievers. God has blessed me beyond my wildest imagination,
and I look for every opportunity to tell people about the one who reached out and saved me from the suffocating and deceptive prison of a dead religion.