No, I do not expect you to recall. I couldn't myself either. But just listen to what happened to me this month.
I received a parcel in the mail, which I could not for the world imagine what it might contain. Yes, a friend in the US had asked me for my postal address, but then, the name on this parcel wasn't hers. It was a mystery; until I opened it.
I discovered that it contained a manila folder full of letters. Letters? Yes, letters written by me, up to 42 years ago. I first went into a sort of shock. How could I be confronted in 2018 by letters I had written 42 years ago? Why did they keep them? A feeling of importance came over me. They actually thought that what I wrote was so important that they kept it. Can you imagine that?
I checked the contents, and the first thing that I encountered was the first letter I ever wrote to them in March 1976. I was aghast at the mere beauty of the letter, even before I read a word. I could not imagine that I had written like that. We are talking pre-computer. A plain piece of writing paper with a lined sheet behind it to enable you to continue the writing in a straight line. Yes, I was truly amazed!
To enlighten you slightly, these people, Americans by nationality, living in Frankfurt, what was then West Germany, while the husband and father of the family worked as a surgeon at the American hospital in that city. I first met these people at a very low point in my life, when everything seemed 'black'. They were christians and had an English speaking meeting at their home every Thursday evening. They heard about me and invited me to come along. Every obstacle that I mentioned, they had an answer for, and so I went along to, what was for me, a mystery meeting.
November 1974 was my first attendance there, and for the following three months I was there every week. I encountered a group of people who knew how to be positive when I was always negative and pretty much unable to see any good. It wasn't that they just tolerated my presence. No they included me and made me part of the meeting even to the point of driving me home afterwards, 20 Km. to the town where I was living.
Then it was on the 18th February, 1975, that I was invited over for lunch. I would not in any way decline an invitation, as I hated being alone. That afternoon they brought together everything that I had learned over the last three months and showed me that the acceptance of the reality of Jesus in my life, was at the core of facing the future.
They simply asked me whether they could pray for me. When they did, I actually felt the physical sensation of my problems being taken out of my life and I have not looked back since. I know that I am healed and changed, and so did everyone around me.
Yes, AMAZING! But 43 years later it is still the same with the exception of the many testimonies that I have of Jesus actually healing me, providing in time of need and leading me through life. I could never go back to that burdened life I led before the transformation.