THe RIght people at the right time

My Story

My family moved to Texas when I was in the second grade. I am the youngest of four boys, and I have two younger sisters. I grew up in what I thought was a good home. My brothers and I had a lot of fun. My parents had a big influence in my life. I never came home as a kid to an empty house, there was always plenty of food on the table, gifts for Christmas, and birthdays, etc. My childhood is mostly good memories. I didn’t realize how poor we were until I became an adult talking with my brothers. My dad was one of the hardest working men I have ever known. He had no special skills, just a hard worker. My mom was a stay at home mom. 

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My dad was a preacher for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember him ever having his own Church, but he preached a lot in churches in the Bay City area. My mom was never as religious as my dad. She just kind of went along with it. She was all about her kids. I don’t remember her having much to do with the people at the church and I don’t remember anyone at our house having a bible but my dad. I can remember my dad hitting me or my brothers with his bible for cutting up in church. I don’t remember much about what was preached in the Church services, I just remember that most of the members got very excited. My brothers thought this was funny, so I started thinking it was funny too. Some of the things I saw were not funny, but scary. I witnessed some strange things in those church services. Some of the things were not humanly possible. I grew up thinking this was normal, and that if you didn’t do these things you were not close to God. I can remember the services when the entire church tarried for the Holy Ghost. I can remember everyone praying and making weird noises. Sometimes I would be afraid, other times I thought it was funny. Thinking back to my childhood the bible was not opened very often. 

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As I got a little older I begin to want more from religion. I started asking questions, and paying more attention in church. This started when I was 10 or 11 years old. Some of the men at the church were telling me that I was going to be a preacher. I was excited about that, because that meant I was going to be like my dad. Going to church was now a serious thing to me, and to one of my brothers. I was beginning to feel more complete, and better about myself. I thought everything was O.K. 

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During one evening service, one of the deacons of the church asked me if I was going to heaven when I died? I was surprised he asked me that because he knew my dad, and my dad was a preacher. Also, everyone knew that if you went to church you went to heaven. I told him yes sir. He then asked me, how I knew I was going to heaven? I responded the best way I knew and told him because my dad was a preacher, and that I went to church. He opened one of the few bibles that was brought to the church we were attending, and showed me a few verses from Romans. He showed me from Romans, how I was not good enough to go to heaven. He told me that I needed to trust in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I remember him talking a lot about death, and hell. He told me that I was a sinner, and that everyone is a sinner. I didn’t say anything to him, but I remember thinking that I was NOT a sinner, because I went to church, and my dad was a preacher. He read to me Romans 3:23, For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; and Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. This scared me, because up to 

that point I never heard much about death, or hell. It was always about doing the best you can, and coming to church. Hell was considered a bad word, and anyone that died went to heaven. He explained to me that God was going to punish me for my sin, and that this death was not just a physical death, but hell. I remember being so scared at the thought of a physical death, of God knowing that I was a sinner, and God punishing me for being a sinner. He also took the time to explain God’s gift in Romans 6:23. He told me that if I had to do something for a gift that it wasn’t a gift. This old man told me that if I would trust in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ for salvation, that I would not go to hell. At first that seemed much too easy, but that evening I trusted in the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ because I didn’t want to go to hell. I was baptized into that church a little while later. This occurred in the summer of 1971. 

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I still grew up in the traditional charismatic churches. I don’t remember the term charismatic being used back then. It was referred to as full gospel churches. It wasn’t until I was an adult, and had my own family that I really begin to understand some things. A bible believing Baptist Church knocked on my door in 1983, and started picking up my kids for church. After a while I started attending. I was scripturally baptized, into this Church, after giving my testimony of salvation from 1971. The Pastor told me that my first baptism didn’t count. I understand now why it didn’t count. At this Church, I learned to read and study the bible for myself. Also, a man there involved me in the bus ministry, and taught me about tithing, giving, and memorizing scripture. 

It is amazing how God put the people in my life to make such a difference, and put me in the right place at the right time to interact with certain people. First my parents. Although I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, it was a good home, where I learned a lot of values. Deacon Wilson, the old man that God sent to give me the gospel in 1971 while in a full gospel Church. The men at First Baptist Clute that knocked on my door and got me in Church, and started teaching me. I think back on that and wonder where I would be if some cult had knocked on my door. Wild Peach Baptist, where I learned so much about spending time in the bible, and memorizing scripture. Faith Baptist in Freeport where I am still learning. I wonder sometimes where I would be if that deacon had not shared the gospel with me, or if I had refused to listen to what he was saying. That is another reason why I am so glad for having parents that raised us to respect authority. What if I had not believed the few bible verses this Deacon showed me about death, hell, and salvation? This went against the tradition I had been taught. What if I had told the men from First Baptist in Clute that I was not interested in attending Church? 

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I look back on all of this and see the hand of a loving God. A God that hunted me down. He found me in Bay City Texas in a full gospel Church using an old deacon. He put men in my life at First Baptist Clute to make me accountable to some people. They taught me never to be comfortable, but to always learn what you can about what is pleasing to God. God led me to follow the pastor to Wild Peach where I was a member for 14 years. I still have a hard time understanding why a person will not accept the gospel message when it is explained to them much clearer than it was explained to me by a full gospel deacon. I thank God for the men he has put in my life, and I thank God once again for the parents he gave me to teach me respect authority. I thank God for the Baptist Churches he has put me in and refraining from telling the men from First Baptist in Clute that I was not interested in attending Church?

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My Name is Tony Manning, and this is MY story.