The Ron Phillips Story
This is the text of a brochure that my dad gives to anyone who will take one. “Have I given you my story?” He gave away all of the first 250 in about six months. I ordered him a box of 500, and I expect he will give them all away soon.
……
I have lived an interesting life. God has given me a wonderful testimony!
My father deserted my mother and me and my sister when I was a baby. My mother remarried when I was 2.
We were taken to Sunday school every Sunday morning, but my new daddy got drunk every night. I was afraid of him when he was drunk. I never received any expression of love like a kiss or a hug. As I grew up, I was always in trouble.
I would pray at night, “God, help me get through the next day without a whipping.”
Not long after, when I was eight years old, I was expected to work on the farm from dawn to sunset. The only respite was school or rain.
At 12 years old, in Sunday school, I was taught that the age of miracles was over. My young mind would wonder, “How could God really be a has-been?” I remember feeling cheated. My heart broken, I prayed,
"God, if I could just see one miracle,
I could live for you."
At church, a favorite song was "Sweet Hour of Prayer”, but I noticed no one ever prayed for five minutes, much less an hour.
When I was 15, my stepfather quit drinking, but the stress of farming intensified his frustration. One day, the worn-out tractor broke down again. He was always trying to hit me. He wanted me to fight him like a man.
This time, when I got away from him, I ran away and hitchhiked to Dallas to my grandmother’s house. My parents came and took me to the Harry Hines Juvenile Detention Center. When the steel door slammed shut to my jail cell. I never felt so unloved or unwanted.
Crying out to God, I pleaded,
"Why, God?"
At 17, I lied about my asthma to join the Navy, and I was later discharged for the same reason. Things just kept getting worse. I was homeless, working for a carnival, sleeping on the ground, and taking sponge baths in service stations.
At 21, I met girl who did not go to church. Soon, I met her grandmother, who welcomed me with open arms. Her testimonies of God's healing power. When I would hear her praying every time I was with her, It always affected me.
Even when she prayed over her meals, I did not understand it, but I knew I needed whatever she had.
My hunger for God grew, and when I was 23, I was born again. I had repented and got baptized in Jesus' name, and even experienced the miracle of speaking in tongues. It happened to me just like it did in the Bible.
Wow.
Something real and tangible had happened to me. As I began to live for God, God started blessing me, and I was prospering.
One day unexpectantly, my pastor came and knocked on my door and came in the house. He told me, God sent him to warn me, “If you don’t give God the glory for what He has blessed you with, you will lose everything.”
I did not heed his warning and lost I lost everything just like he warned.
My wife left me with our two month old son.
I in short order hit rock bottom. I gave myself to drinking and drugs until I lost my mind. In a mental institution, no one could help me. After getting out, God dealt with me to no avail.
One night, God spoke to me, saying, "If you don't come back to me, I will cut you off!" In fear, I went back to church and repented.
I started believing and obeying the Word of God without question. I dedicated myself to prayer and the study of the Word of God.
The process of healing and peace did not happen overnight.
While doing drugs like LSD, I had opened myself up to thoughts I could not control. I could not sleep in the dark for over nine months.
Tormenting spirits would taunt me night and day. Many times, I could not pray and would just say, "Jesus, Jesus," until there was enough peace of mind that I could. My only peace was Jesus.
I could only read the Bible by underlining only 2 or 3 words at a time. Otherwise, all would be lost. I had to exert all my mental energy on what I was doing, or my mind would just blur.
My pastor tried to talk to me. I could hear the words, but I could only comprehend part of what he was saying.
One night, I went forward for prayer. As the pastor prayed for me, I prayed silently, saying,
"Lord, I believe," over and over again. All of a sudden, like the volume of a radio being turned up, I could hear the sound of the most beautiful bells. Then the volume was turned down, and I could hear my pastor asking me,
"Do you believe?" repeatedly. At first, it seemed I had lost the ability to speak, but then the power of God fell. My knees buckled under the power of God, and then I sprang up and shouted,
"YES!" and began speaking in tongues as the Spirit of God gave me the utterance. I was instantly delivered from the powerful, self-destructive cravings I had felt for drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes.
Later, while reading the Old Testament, I believe I found what those bells I heard meant.
In the Old Testament, the High Priest wore a robe with bells around its hem. When he went behind the veil into the Holy of Holies, the other priests would listen for the tinkling of the bells. This signified that God had accepted the sacrifice.
Today, Jesus is our High Priest who has already offered up His own life as the sacrifice for our sins.
The ringing of those bells let me know His love and power. It tells me, "God has forgiven me. I am free—free indeed!"
50 years later, I can declare, God healed my marriage, and we have been married all these years. One of my sons who is a Pastor and have three grown grandsons and wonderful wives and a granddaughter .
I get to see her pray and worship God in church every Sunday.
That prayer I prayed as a little boy,
“Let me see one miracle.”
God has answered that prayer thousands of time.
I have seen so many miracles and answered prayers.
The greatest miracle of all,
God has made a miracle out of me.
-