Silent Tears That Were Touched By God
by: A. Bowen
I am writing this testimony as a way of expressing thanks to 2Jesus and all of you who prayed for me all over the country and in places like Australia! Praise God for His mercy, Love and other Christians! Also, I pray that my testimony will touch another's life so that they may RECOGNISE, KNOW and FEEL the Love of the Lord Jesus Christ not for my glory, but for HIS!

Without going into a great story of my life, a little background is needed. I am an incest survivor. I had five abusers as a child including my dad. I believe that child abuse is the most horrible thing that can happen to a child because it costs the child in self-esteem, hurt, anger, future relationships, jobs ... all facets of the child's life is harmed by this terrible ordeal. It often takes many, many years before the victim even acknowledges what happened to them and begins a recovery process. I had one prayer as a child and that prayer lasted for over 40 years: Each night as a child I would pray to God to die ... later I would say "God, please take me home, I want to come home." As I prayed this prayer I cried silently ... because if my dad heard me, he would come and harm me again. So mostly I learned to cry silently.

My original recovery process began ten years ago at the age of 35 when I first admitted to a dear and trusted friend that I was an incest survivor. After that time I was thrust into many areas of depression and mood swings. At one point I was hospitalized in the sexual trauma unit. I worked very hard to stay alive each moment of each day but wanted desperately to die. I had the support of a friend and her family, but otherwise I did this alone. I went to a therapist ... I went to a psychiatrist took medicine for the depression and after seven years, I thought I had climbed the mountain and was free from the pain.

But, survivors can be very draining people. We are so hateful of ourselves that we cannot even feel another human's good touch. We feel dirty, cheap and worst of all worthless. My dad is dead so I was unable to confront him except in letters. My mom, with whom I had always loved and believed loved me, upon hearing that dad abused me, and treated me as if I were dead for more than two years. Later in therapy and a process of retrieving memories, I discovered that my mom had to know about the abuse and did nothing. A very painful thing for a child to discover. My world felt as if it crashed around me. BUT, I believed I was doing better.

Then on December 27, 1998 in a time of complete desperation and wanting my own pain to stop I took several hundred pills of various types. (In fact, a whole bowl full!) Interestingly, I had always thought of myself as a Christian. I had been baptized as a child, had been immersed as an adult and had accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. BUT, I talked the talk ... I just didn't WALK the talk! BIG DIFFERENCE. That night, before this happened, I kneeled and prayed to God for someone, something to intervene and help me. I prayed for His forgiveness for what I was doing and prayed that he would comfort anyone who cared so that they knew they were not responsible for my actions. I never wanted to hurt anyone else or cause them pain ... I merely wanted out of my own pain.

I wasn't scheduled to go to work the next day and I did this around 6:00 PM, so without calling anyone, or expecting anyone to call me, I took the pills and lay down. I remember feeling very, very hot and thinking to myself "So this is death ... it's hot." Then everything went blank. There was no light from God (as I had hoped) no nothing just blank dark and sleep.

I didn't know, but work had called and a special meeting was called. When I didn't show up, after a number of hours a worker called a friend who had a key to my house and with the Police they entered and found me unconscious. I had a fever of 104 degrees and was in very critical condition. I was in the intensive care unit for three days wavering between life and death. I was intubated and allowed no visitors. I remember nothing of this time.

Then I awoke on Friday and because I had no insurance and no where to go, I was sent to the psychiatric ward for the next 24 hours. Psych wards and mental illness assistance in this country is in serious trouble and mostly a joke. Not only is it expensive you are expected to be "well" in a matter of a few days or you are let go anyway. But THAT is another testimony!

After I got out of the hospital (24 hours later) I was still very depressed. I was placed on an involuntary leave of absence without pay from work and was facing medical bills of over $21,000! (Boy, if I wasn't depressed BEFORE ... ((((((smile)))))! )

Anyway, I knew that I had to do something. I was desperate. I would either take a gun I had and kill myself (again) or seek pastoral help. I prayed, I cried, I prayed and cried some more. I was lead to several things. First, I found 2Jesus on the Internet and went for prayer request. I knew I needed the support of other Christians because I was so weak and downtrodden. I read everything in the newsletters and what Ferd has on his web site. I began to find comfort in the words and knew that I needed more. Something here, with me ... within me. I sought out and was directed to a Pastor here in St. Louis who told me what Ferd had said to me when he responded to my call for help. "God loves you ... He forgives you and not only does He forgive you ... He's forgotten it!!" Pastor Smith also told me one other thing: "Julia, I want you to realize that IF you had been the only person on this earth ... God loves you so much that He STILL would have sent His only son just for you!" Those things were so powerful within me that I began a transformation from what I was to what I am now.

I knew the Bible talked about throwing off the old and putting on the new and becoming new ... I just never understood it. Now, not only was I graced with an understanding of the new ... I WAS IT!!
Since that time, I have felt the prayers from each of you. Ferd and his lovely wife have stood with me in prayer and Christ's love. I am growing each and every day and becoming stronger in the Word, God's love and myself. I have since hugged people and I FEEL their good touch. I love others sincerely and I have absolutely NO DOUBT that God loves me and Has a mighty plan for me!

I have been to the depths of dispair ... to the brink of death and God has brought me back. My life is His now ... completely and totally forever. 2Jesus was a major help to me in this whole ordeal and I thank my Father in heaven for Ferd, his wife and the beautiful ministry that helped bring me home to the Lord.

You see, God answered the prayer that I had as a child and through my adult life ... He HAS brought me home and I am at peace! Praise the Lord. Thank you all for your prayers and I ask that you continue to remember me so that my walk becomes stronger and that I LISTEN to what God wants me to do with my life. May God give each of you the blessings that you deserve and may each of you know HIS love and mercy. Amen
This is very special bible verse to me. When you are having difficulties and doubts, etc ... I like ...

 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path." - Proverbs 3:5,6

In Christ's Love,
Julia A. Bowen, daughter of Godt

Neivelle's brush with the law began when he was just fourteen. He became involved with gangland activities after his release from prison at the age of sixteen. By the time he was seventeen he had become one of the top gang leaders in Singapore. At seventeen and half he was involved in a major gang war which resulted in the death of an opposing gang member. He was sentenced to hang for his involvement in the gang murder.

Under British law, however, no youth under the age of 18 could be hanged. So he was sentenced to be detained indefinitely at Her Majesty's Pleasure. This was worse than life imprisonment.
Pardoned after seven years, Neivelle organised a new street gang. He began to be involved in gang robberies involving firearms. His gang garnered thousands of dollars in money and valuables before he again was arrested and slated for trial in Singapore's "high court." While waiting for trial, he faked insanity so that he would be sent to the mental hospital. Then had come that daring escape! He, with two other inmates, had overpowered two doctors, bound a guard, and climbed on to the roof and jumped over a 20-foot wall to freedom!

He was at large for almost a year and became one of the ten most wanted men in Singapore until he was recaptured. Pressured into a plea bargain and confession, he was sentenced to seven more years, plus whipping.

His pattern of being tough, merciless and sly continued in Changi Prison. Soon he had people doing his laundry, cleaning his cell. He even managed to profit through gambling and a money-lending racket.
Then had come his Nemesis. Neivelle gritted his teeth at the thought of that guard, insulting, nagging, who had tried to provoke him into retaliation—and thus solitary confinement. Eventually Neivelle had concluded that he was fated to be sent into solitary and determined to make that guard pay. He had found a piece of metal. Day after day he patiently sharpened it on the cement floor, honing it into a crude dagger. At last he was ready for the hated guard.

He waited expectantly for the man to come on duty, but the guard did not show up. The next day there was a surprise search of all the prison cells and the dagger was found. He was immediately rushed into a solitary confinement cell.

It was during this time of confinement that Neivelle began to experience the most dreadful feeling that almost drove him insane. His long period of confinement had caused his mind to succumb to "claustrophobia." A terrible disease of the mind that caused him to experience dreadful nightmares and sleepless night of fear. Fear of being buried alive in a coffin. It was during one of these nights when he was experiencing one of his worst attacks of claustrophobia that he had this miraculous experience. Another prisoner from a cell nearby had managed to smuggle some pages from a book for him to read. Neivelle found out that the pages had been torn out from the New Testament. In anger he had crumpled the pages and flung them away towards the toilet bowl in his cell.

Neivelle's eyes wandered to the crumpled pages on the floor. Frustrated and bored, he finally picked them up and began to read. An old man, Zechariah, and his aged wife (probably a hundred years old, thought Neivelle) had no children. Here was an angel telling this old man that his wife would become pregnant and bear a son! What a joke! This old lady pregnant! Smirking at the impossibility, he read on. The second story was just as incredible--a young woman was also told by the angelic visitor that she too would become pregnant! His cynical mind began to be very amused as he thought of how stupid the story was. Maybe, he mused the angel would appear to a young man next and say to him, "Young man, YOU will be pregnant!" but he continued to read on. "You shall call his name Jesus," the next line reported. Neivelle tensed. That name! What had those missionary teachers said? That if anyone asked anything in the name of Jesus, God would do it? Yes, that was it! He would do just that! "God," he said, "in the name of Jesus, get me out of this room!"
He eyed the spy-hole, half expecting the door to open. It did not. The next day came. The door remained closed. Angry that nothing was happening he shouted at God.

"God, I won't let you off! Get me out of this cell!" he demanded.
The next day came, and the next and the next. Neivelle continued to remind God that he was asking in the Jesus' name and he expected an answer.

"God, I hold you to your promise," he declared grimly.
The 10th day - and the 11lth. Apparently God was not listening.
The 15th day of that desperate prayer came. The door opened! As Neivelle was led out he turned to look back at the cell where he had been confined. By the door was the notice: "Prisoner 7172 is to remain locked in maximum security until the day of his discharge." It was signed by the prison superintendent.

Somehow that order had been cancelled!
When Neivelle reached the door area, his fellow inmates were incredulous.
"How did you get out?" they queried, amazed.
The name of Jesus was on Neivelle's lips. But how could he say it? It would sound as silly as to say he was pregnant! To be "religious" would make him out as a "queer!"
He saw admiration in the eyes before him. His pride soared.
"I threatened the superintendent into letting me out," Neivelle told his audience.
Yet down inside Neivelle felt convinced that Someone bigger than a prison superintendent, some Superhuman Power had worked in his behalf. He was certain that a miraculous answer had been given to his prayers. Why would the superintendent change his mind? Why would he risk allowing an "incorrigible" inmate who was a security risk to associate with the other inmates? The name of Jesus was again the only convincing answer to those questions.

The relief of that relative freedom was tremendous. But soon the monotony of prison life returned. No one came to visit him, not even his mother who previously had never failed to come and visit him.
Finally a letter came from his brother: their mother, hospitalised with cancer, had been given only two weeks to live.
Yearning to see her one last time, Neivelle asked to be allowed to visit her. His request was denied.

Memories rushed in - his mother in the harsh days of the Japanese occupation giving her rations to him and his brother. When Father had frightened his sons with horror stories, it was Mother who came in the night to calm their fears. It was Mother who had loved him through all his troubled years, Mother who had been too indulgent with her lawless son.
Full of remorse, Neivelle wished for opportunity to say he was sorry and to beg her forgiveness.

Soon word came from his brother that Mother had died, screaming and reaching out for her absent son.
Shame for his shabby treatment and indifference to his mother overwhelmed him. Added to this burden was the recognition that now there was no one who cared for him--no one.
"When I get out, who will receive me?" he moaned.

With nothing to live for, the despairing youth wished to die. Grieving, despondent, he pondered suicide; but how could it be accomplished? He finally decided to swallow a whole cake of carbolic soap. As he was pondering how he could do that, a line from an old hymn drifted into his mind, "The Lord is my shepherd." The rest of the words he could not recall.

He turned to a New Testament left in his cell by the Gideons. He searched for Psalm 23, one he had memorised in his boyhood at the mission school, but now mostly forgotten. Quickly he thumbed through the pages of the Testament, then again, turning the pages a bit more slowly, but his search was in vain.

Frustrated, he hurled the book against the wall of his cell. Disconsolately, he picked up a cigarette. Remembering that prisoners often hid split match sticks behind the spines of books, he began looking for the Testament which he had earlier hurled away. It lay open on the floor, open at the Psalms!

He began reading the verses of the 23rd Psalm: "The Lord is my shepherd ... Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear. for Thou art with me...."
"For thou art with me!" Those words gripped him as though they had been spoken aloud.

Neivelle began to tremble, sensing a Presence with him in his cell. As he sank to his knees beside his bed the Holy Presence enfolded him. Overwhelmed, humbled, his spirit melted in the realisation that Someone cared, loved him, even more than had his mother. Tears came, the first he had shed since boyhood.

"God, just take my life and do what You will," he sobbed.
It was a total surrender--no mere turning over a new leaf. The man who had asserted destructive power now accepted the lordship of a Greater Power.

A wonderful newness came to him that evening. And joy! Gone were thoughts of suicide, gone was the hopelessness.
The next morning he began reading his New Testament. From then on, all his free time was given to reading his Testament.

Other inmates teased him; some called him a "Holy Joe" and a religious fanatic. But their words did not daunt his spirit. His serenity was undisturbed. No longer was he ashamed of a relationship with God. For he had learned that God loved him. This was a relationship he prized. Now it seemed natural to him.

The change that came into Neivelle's life was not a temporary one. It was a permanent one. Neivelle is today still serving God. After his release from prison in the early seventies, Neivelle worked for a while as an accountant in a Departmental store. Later he gave up his well paid job to join the Singapore Bible College. During his course of study he met Anne, then the secretary to the Dean of the Bible College. They got married and were blessed with three children. After his graduation, Neivelle was invited to serve with Rev. Khoo Siaw Hua, the prison chaplain, in the prison ministry. Later he served with Rev. Henry Khoo, son of Rev Khoo Siaw Hua, at the Reformative Training Centre. Since then, his main ministry has been to street kids, drug addicts and those who were following the same path to destruction that he did. He has been the mentor of many who would have destroyed their own lives.

Today Neivelle is the founding pastor of the Church of God (Evangelical). He has been instrumental in pioneering several congregations in Malaysia and Indonesia. Gifted as an evangelist, Neivelle has travelled widely to many parts of the world to preach the same Gospel that saved him while he was in prison.

Gang Leader Transformed
Rev. Keith Ivester
State Director
Youth and Christian Education
Columbia, Maryland
In 1989, I was serving as State Director of Youth and Christian Education for the Church of God in California. Each summer, we held camps for our youth and I foolishly said, "We'll take anyone. Bring them on." Reverend Dennis Adams from San Francisco took me at my word. Little did I know the people he would find as he travelled the streets of San Francisco asking teens if they would like to spend a week at camp.

When the group he recruited arrived on Monday, things became interesting. I later found out they were members of two of the worst gangs on the west coast, the Bloods and the Crips. They drew a line down the trail and the Bloods were on one side and the Crips on the other with their knives drawn daring the others to step over the line. We de-armed them as well as we could and I told the staff to start praying. I told the camp evangelist, "Something is wrong and you had better really preach tonight!"

At the altar call, I felt impressed to pray for a young man who was kneeling at the altar. As I walked away, I felt a tap on my shoulder and he was standing behind me with tears streaming down his face. He said, "Give me some more of this. I've never felt this good in my life." I didn't know what to do but I said, "You must want the Holy Ghost." He said, "I don't know what that is, but if it is more of this, I want it." I told him to raise his hands and I laid my hands on him. He began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave the utterance. Little did I know this was the leader of one of the gangs.

Later, he helped pray four of his gang members through to salvation and marched them over to me. He said, "Hey, Preach, give it to them just like you gave it to me." During the week, they also received the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

Before the week was over, the Bloods and the Crips marched into my office together and handed me their bandannas, meaning they were forsaking their gangs, surrendering what was previously the most important thing to them. I keep the bandannas in my office and during trying times they remind me of God's power.

Later that summer, I went to San Francisco to preach. As I was locking my van, I heard a voice behind me calling from the door of the church. It was one of the former gang members. He said, "Hey, Preach, come on in. I've got a bunch more of them in here for you."