Michael leaned slightly forward and glanced across to where Jemimah sat in her usual spot in the pew on the other side of Angie. Her head was bowed over the Bible she clutched with pale, still hands while his dad gave a brief introduction before she addressed the church, and she looked for all the world like someone awaiting their execution.

He’d caught her only briefly before the service, but there’d been no chance to offer any more than a couple of words of encouragement before an unfamiliar Commodore had roared into the parking lot, and Jemimah had excused herself to welcome her young friend, Jarrah, and Jamie’s mate, Mitch. Michael’s dad had told him that the two teens were planning to come along, but Michael was surprised to see several other local folk, who didn’t usually attend their services, turning up as well.

He didn’t often disagree with his father, but when his dad had quietly mentioned to him that he’d had to talk Jemimah out of postponing her testimony, Michael was sure that his dad had made the wrong call. Surely his dad didn’t understand the kind of pressure she’d been under lately -- nor the pressure she was putting on herself.

As he watched, Jemimah drew a shuddering breath and slowly rose from her place. Lord, please strengthen her and help her know your peace, Michael prayed for about the hundredth time that morning as she walked up to the pulpit beside his dad. He knew that sharing one’s testimony with other believers was a special privilege and a blessing to participate in -- but at that moment he would have done anything to have swapped places with her and shielded her from facing something so obviously difficult for her.

He waited while she straightened her notes in front of her, sure that her heart couldn’t be pounding any harder than his own.

“First of all, I’d like to express how grateful I am for the privilege of having been welcomed in amongst you since I first came here earlier this year, and to have this opportunity to share the work of God’s grace in my life with you today.”

Her voice was so soft that he was straining to hear it, even from the front row.

“Hey, speak up, Sparky!” Jack Hart’s voice boomed from somewhere near the door. “Can’t hear you up the back!”

Michael frowned in annoyance at Jack’s insensitivity, and looked quickly back to Jemimah, worried that the interruption would overset her. She had stopped and stared at Jack in surprise, then looked back down at the notecard in her hand as though unsure of what to do next. She discarded that first notecard and then looked up, with a shy smile on her lips, but said in a much louder voice, “I think my formal introduction would be wasted on Jack anyway, so I will continue on from here.”

There was a murmur of laughter from the congregation and Michael breathed out in relief as Jemimah started to speak a little more confidently. He could have thumped Jack for calling out like that, but it seemed to have been just the nudge she needed.

“I have some special friends of mine here this morning,” she was now saying, “who told me they had never heard of a testimony being given in a church before and wanted to know what crime I had committed. At the time I assured them that no, I hadn’t committed a crime, and that a testimony was just a fancy name for the story of what God has done in my life.

But the truth is that the reason I am standing here today is exactly because of the crimes I have committed, and to my shame, continue to commit.”

That she had made such a statement seemed to shock Jemimah as much as everyone else, and for a moment she seemed unable to continue. Then, perhaps to buy herself a little breathing space, she added in an obviously extemporaneous apology. “I’m sorry, this is not the kind of testimony I had originally planned on sharing with you this morning.”

She took a few deep breaths and explained, “In the church where I grew up, we enjoyed listening to testimonies whenever there was the opportunity. New members, missionaries, visiting speakers -- the longer the testimony, the shorter the sermon and, to a kid, testimonies always seemed far more interesting. The really gripping ones followed the same formula, lots of exciting details of how bad a sinner they had been, a riveting tale of all the dramas they had been through -- and then they were saved and look how great their life was now.

Well, then it was my turn, and I knew my testimony was not going to compare with any of those. I’d always been a quiet, fairly well-behaved little girl who tried to do the right thing and generally obeyed my parents and teachers. I had accepted the truth of the gospel and believed that Jesus had died for my sins so that if I put my faith in him, I would be saved. And then afterwards, I was still a quiet, fairly well-behaved little girl who tried to do the right and thing and generally obeyed my parents and teachers.”

There was a gentle ripple of laughter, and Jemimah gave a self-deprecating smile. “But that was my testimony and I shared with my church how by believing in Jesus I had been forgiven for my sins, and that the Holy Spirit was now at work in me helping me grow more like him every day. It wasn’t gripping, but it did the job, and I got to go and sit back down again and life went on. Well, several years passed, and here I was in Jacaranda Plains, seeking to join as a member of the church here and again I was asked if I would share my testimony with the church.”

Her grimace communicated far more clearly than words how she’d felt about that request, and Michael found himself smiling in ready sympathy.

“The last few months have been ...” she frowned here and glanced up briefly. “Let’s just say I have had a lot on my plate, and I thought I could make things easier for myself by recycling my old testimony and just add a little extra on the end. You know, following on from the part after being saved where I was now living happily ever after with God doing wonderful things in my life, that now I was in Jacaranda Plains, living even more happily ever after with God continuing to do even more wonderful things through me, and producing an abundance of spiritual fruit in my life.”

Michael listened intently. Jemimah mostly kept her eyes on her notes, but it hardly seemed as though she were reading from them, but that the words came straight from her heart.

“Except not only was it completely unlike what was actually happening in my life, too many people here knew exactly what a mess my life was in for me to even try to pretend to be the poster child for happily ever after Christianity.

Which brings me right back to where I started this, explaining that the reason I am making the testimony is because of the crimes I have committed. I know that the people I knew back home have always thought of me as a good person, perhaps even the people I’ve met here in the Plains have thought the same.

But I know now that nothing could be further from the truth -- because I am not a good person.”

Her voice wavered, and Michael saw that her eyes now glittered with tears.

“I’m sorry. I knew I could not get through this without crying, so I am going to have to ask you to just bear with me.” She pressed a small handkerchief to her eyes and after a moment bravely went on.

“I think back when I gave my testimony at our old church I honestly believed I was pretty good -- but that was only because I knew so little of God and so little of his Word. I compared far better to the religion of my imagination than to God’s actual revelation, and by his grace God had so hedged me round with his protection that I had no idea of how little faith I had, or the temptations and weaknesses that I would be such easy prey to. It wasn’t until God, in his great patience and love, allowed me to face even the smallest of pressures that I began to see more of the true nature of my own wretchedly sinful heart.

I learned that I loved my own comfortable image of God rather than wanting to worship our awe-inspiring God as he reveals himself in the Scriptures. I have wanted my comfort and my happiness more than my holiness; I have not loved the truth but have wanted to hide away my weakness and sin where it could not be exposed. Where I should have submitted to the discipline of my heavenly Father, I have rebelled. Where I should have been overflowing with gratitude for his mercies to me, I have felt hard done by and resentful.

I have seen the dishonour caused to God by the pride in my own heart, my love for other people’s good opinion of me more than God’s, my fear of man rather than fear of God, and, as ashamed as I am to admit it - a selfishness that has led me to hurt people for whom I care deeply. Instead of trusting in the strength of an all-powerful God, I have been fearful and disbelieving.

These are not trivial crimes. They are crimes against a holy God, rebellion and fist shaking at a loving Creator who made me, and prideful rejection of a Saviour who bled for me. They are crimes that truly deserve the full penalty of God’s righteous anger and my eternal punishment in hell. And I have nothing good within myself that could possibly repay my debt.”

Tears were flowing down Jemimah’s cheeks now, and Michael felt like his heart would break listening to the emotion in her voice. After the time they’d spent together, he knew, as perhaps no-one else in the congregation could imagine, how very deeply she truly felt what she was saying. He pulled out his own handkerchief and blew his nose, hoping she would make it to the end of her speech.

“So that is my testimony of my salvation that I am sharing with you this morning. I might not have an exciting before and after conversion story, and I don’t even have a sweet and lovely happily-ever-after story -- but I know I need the gospel every single day of my life. There is not a day that I am not guilty before God in my own right and deserving of hell, and not a day where don’t I utterly and desperately rely on Christ’s perfect sacrifice in my place and on his blood that washes me clean.

My testimony is simply that I am a sinner who is trusting in God’s promise that Christ’s sacrifice is enough to pay the debt of all my crimes against God, that Christ’s perfect obedience is enough to meet the requirements of a perfect and holy God on my behalf, and that despite my struggles with sin, his Holy Spirit will continue to work in me and one day bring me to glory, finally perfect in Christ.

And, despite knowing there is nothing in myself to commend me to you, I am asking to join in fellowship with the church here, because I trust God’s promise that he protects and provides for his weak and foolish sheep by setting pastors as shepherds over them to lead them and feed them, and his own people as his flock to walk beside them. And I think, if you didn’t know before, you do now how much I need that help.”

She quickly turned to Pastor Turnbull, and in the solemn silence that followed her testimony came the jarring sound of one person clapping. Along with the rest of the congregation, Michael glanced round to see Mitch on his feet and beaming at Jemimah, completely unfazed by being the only person applauding.

“Way to go, Jemimah!” he called out, before Jamie dragged him back down into his seat.

Michael turned back to see Jemimah, rather than appearing embarrassed by the young man’s outburst, acknowledging his encouragement with a watery smile before ducking her head down and returning to the pew beside Angie.

His dad had taken his place at the pulpit, and after clearing his throat, announced the hymn preceding the sermon. As Michael picked up his hymn book, he noticed Marlene at the piano, wiping her eyes with a tissue, before beginning on the instrumental introduction to the hymn.

“Well, you got through it,” Angie commented to Jemimah under the cover of the music.

Michael reached his arm across behind Angie, and gently squeezed Jemimah’s nearest shoulder. She glanced up to meet his eyes for just the fraction of a moment, before glancing just as quickly away. But as Marlene struck the chords to signal the congregation to stand, Jemimah looked back across at Michael in surprised enquiry.

He grinned, having mentioned his and Jemimah’s discussion of John Newton’s “I Asked The Lord That I Might Grow” to his dad and suggesting that Jemimah might appreciate its inclusion in the service.

He leaned slightly back to whisper to her behind Angie, “I put in a request with the preacher.”

Her eyes widened, and she blinked away newly brimming tears, but the gratitude in her smile was so genuine that Michael felt his own heart singing as he joined in with the first verse.

Unlike Jemimah’s old church, Pastor Turnbull didn’t deliver a shorter sermon following the testimony, but his message about the centrality of the local church in the gospel of Christ was easy to follow and clearly delivered with the new visitors in mind.

And just what I needed too, Michael thought gratefully as he sat with his head bowed following the benediction. After Jemimah’s testimony Michael thought he’d find it impossible to concentrate on the sermon, but although his mind continually strayed back to her words, his dad’s message about how Christ himself had instituted the church and continued to reign over it and spread his gospel through it rekindled Michael’s own love for this disparate group of believers who had committed themselves to Christ and to one another as a church family.

Hearing movement around him, Michael briefly thanked the Lord for the blessing of this church and that morning’s meeting, then straightened up. His first thought was to speak to Jemimah, but she had already left their pew, and looking around he saw that she had headed across to where Jarrah stood near the back of the church.

Michael collected up the hymnbooks to return to the shelves on his way out the door. It would not be long before he would have to leave for Sydney, but hopefully there would be time for a bite to eat and to catch up with a few people first. He had no idea why, but leaving after each visit seemed to be getting harder and harder these days.

Angie and Jemimah had already been tangled into the small knot of young people who were heading out of the door just ahead of him as he stopped to shelve the hymnbooks in their place by the door.

“Hey, Mitch! The hymn books are meant to go back on the shelf,” Jamie called out as his mate walked past with the book still in his hand.

“Yeah, well I’m taking it with me. You’ve got plenty here,” Mitch shot back with a cheeky grin.

“What? Are you gunna take it home or something?”

“Yep. I am. I want to have a look at the stuff in it.”

Jamie shook his head as though he was mad, but Michael grabbed one of the pew Bibles from the shelf and headed towards them. “Here, Mitch -- take this, too.”

“Thanks, mate! I will.” Mitch took it from Michael’s outstretched hand with another of his irrepressible smiles and turned to Jemimah. “You’re gunna have to tell me what half the words mean in this hymn thing, though, Miss Sparky.”

“Miss Parker to you!” Jemimah replied quellingly, if unconvincingly, her height even in heels only just reaching the youth’s shoulder. “I can try my best with the half of the words I know. But Michael is the one to ask, you know.”

“Yeah?” Mitch looked back at him with interest.

On a whim Michael threw out at him, “Not ‘blasted my gourds’ too?”

The look of astonishment on Mitch’s face was priceless. “But -- but how did you know?”

“It’s a gift,” Jemimah murmured teasingly as she slipped out of the door ahead of them.

When he next saw her, she was already in the midst of the rest of the ladies setting out the platters of food on the trestle tables. He was about to head towards her, when Mitch, who had been helping Jamie and Richard set out the tables and chairs, came back over towards him, apparently determined to buttonhole him on some more of the ‘weird’ words in his book.

He sat with him through lunch, too, and Michael was almost overwhelmed by the young man’s apparently unquenchable curiosity about the hymns and the Bible and church in general. He knew very little of Mitch’s background -- though he could make some good guesses based on the young man’s unguarded comments and occasionally colourful lexicon. But here he was, relaxed and firing off a seemingly endless series of questions and -- more surprisingly -- listening intently to the answers.

It was with genuine regret that Michael excused himself when he couldn’t put off leaving any longer, and Mitch told him he’d look forward to catching up with him next time he was in town.

Michael started his round of goodbyes, working his way toward where Jemimah and his sisters were sitting in the shade with the teen girls and a number of the church ladies. Jemimah looked rather worn and fragile, but considering what she’d been through lately he felt she was holding up rather well in the circumstances. Although he’d had his hands full with Mitch, he’d kept an eye on her over the lunch, noting gratefully that either Marlene or Gabi had been by her side the entire time. He was glad that despite her rocky start in The Plains, the church had taken her into its heart.

He paused to shake hands with Mr Higgins, but when he looked up again he saw that Jemimah had left her seat amongst the ladies. It took a few moments before he spotted her again, walking directly towards him.

“Michael?” She spoke his name hesitantly as she approached as though he might somehow wander off without noticing her. “I wanted to catch you before I went if you have a moment.”

He noticed her small bag already over her shoulder. “Are you going now?”

She nodded. “I thought I’d try to slip off while everyone is still occupied. I think need a bit of a rest before tonight’s meeting.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car then. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the service. You did a wonderful job with your testimony, Jem.”

She glanced up at him, then looked away quickly, shaking her head in denial. “I am grateful to have gotten through it, though.”

“No, seriously - it was a blessing to all of us who heard it. Look -- I was wondering -- would you mind sending me a copy of it?”

Her expression mirrored the one she’d made when recounting being asked to give her testimony, but then she chuckled. “I guess so. It’s too late now to tear it up now and pretend I never said it, isn’t it?”

“Do you really wish you could?”

“No. It was all true. I wish that it wasn’t true, but it is, and I never want to forget that again. And now that I’ve said it publicly, I know that everyone else knows it, too.”

“Is that why you wrote it like that?” They had reached the car, and Jemimah unlocked the driver’s door, but did not open it, instead leaning against it and turning to face Michael.

“Yes. You know how, ever since I knew the date I was meant to give my testimony, it has been the worst time of my life ever, and I was so resentful that here I was expected to somehow share a testimony of God’s goodness to me, and instead all I had was a growing list of complaints and miseries. And because of everything else that’s been going on, I couldn’t even get any time to myself to prepare anything anyway. And when I finally got home yesterday,” she interrupted herself to explain, “I went and saw Marlene straight after I saw you, too.

“Anyway, last night when everything was finally over, and I was thinking over everything I’ve learned the past few days; from talking with you and your dad over the weekend, at morning tea with Leanne -- I can’t believe how much she knows for someone her age - and then Marlene, and I realised that it was like God had been writing my testimony for me by everything I’ve been going through. So I just sat down and wrote it all out, because that’s all my life as a Christian is, isn’t it - that I’m a desperately needy sinner continually needing God’s ongoing grace and mercy?”

Michael nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes -- that’s what I wanted you to understand with that hymn, Jem, you’re not failing, you’re growing. And it’s painful but you need to just keep coming back to God, because he will complete his perfect work in you, through your striving with him.”

Jemimah nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You’re tired -- I’d best let you get away before anyone else comes and talks to you,” Michael said, stepping back to give her room to open the car door.

“Michael,” she turned back and looked up at him, “what I wanted to say, was just to thank you so much for being there Friday night, and talking through all these things with me. I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten through, otherwise.”

“It was my privilege, Jem. Now, go home and get some rest. Hopefully, things will start getting much easier from here for you.” He closed the door after her and watched as she drove away.

“Are you heading off, too, Mikey?”

Michael turned at the sound of Gabi’s voice and nodded regretfully, then, as she came up close beside him, drew her into a hug.

She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek before stepping back. “It’s been lovely seeing you a bit more often recently. When will you be back?”

Michael ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t any plans other than his usual visit over the school holidays, but that seemed so far away now.

“I don’t know - I’ll guess I’ll have to wait and see what comes up,” he replied, hoping that not too long away, something would.