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The Day My Life Changed Forever

By Nicole Redmon



Hypocrite-that was me. And y’all, I was one of the better ones!

I knew all the right things to say. I carried the right Bible. I went to church, sang in the choir, helped in VBS, invited folks to church, and even led people to the Lord. (Told you I was good at faking it.) I knew what to say at the right time. But on the inside, I KNEW I was phony. I would get nervous to have a conversation with my Pastor or his wife. I had known my pastor’s wife since I was in the fifth grade. In fact, we were the best of friends all through school. After we graduated, she was gloriously born again and that is where our paths went in two different directions.


I will not give details of my sin-filled lifestyle at that time. After all, it’s under the blood! Fast forward to 2007, when I reached out to my pastor’s wife one Sunday morning and asked her what time service started. I’m sure she had to pick up her jaw off the floor when we hung up the phone. My backslidden hubby and I loaded our tiny miracle child into the car, and off we went to a little store-front building in Seagrove, NC. I was so nervous but determined.

You see, I was raised in church my whole life. My parents did right by me and took me to God’s house every time the doors were open. I simply went through the motions. And I knew it! My childhood dream was to move to NYC and become an actress on Broadway! I was putting on the best performance of my life, and Satan was giving me a standing ovation. Somehow, I had convinced myself that the professions, (yes, you read that correctly, several professions as a matter of fact) that I had made in the past, surely one of those had to have stuck. I was merely backslidden on God. I know what I am about to say is not proper English, but y’all, I ain’t never heard preachin’ like that in my entire life!


I thank God for that man of God that was unashamed to cry loud and spare not!

Funny thing was, we LOVED it! We both wanted to hear more of what that preacher had to say. That was the first Sunday in January. My husband, who truly was away from God, got right with the Lord within a few days after that first Sunday service. Not me! Remember, I was “good.” I did not need to be saved. I had been there and done that. What was another profession gonna do for me? I had done it so many times before.


February rolls around. I am as miserable I had ever been in my entire life. I heard the gospel preached with such power and authority all the while trying to convince myself that I was “ok.” I had heard the gospel for years, but not like that! I had rejected God’s truth over and over again. But, our long-suffering Heavenly Father never gave up on me. I cry even writing these words down.


I did not deserve to be given so many chances.

My pastor mounted that pulpit and preached to what seemed to be only me that morning. I have no clue what the message was about. But the Lord God Almighty gave my pastor one sentence that shot an arrow of conviction straight to my hard heart. He asked this one simple thing, as he looked at me straight in the eye, “If it were possible, even though it isn’t because you are not saved, for you to give what YOU call your SALVATION, YOUR TESTIMONY, to your little girl, where would she spend eternity?”


I cried myself silly! I had lived a lie, comfortably for so long. But as the blinders fell from my eyes, I finally saw myself as a sinner in need of a Savior. And I still sat in my seat. Did not make one move! I pretended to be preoccupied with my little daughter.


I’m so thankful that the Holy Spirit can follow you home! I chewed on those words from that morning service for four days. I knew I had come to the point of no return. My pastor kept using a word in that sermon that I had never heard before. It was the word “reprobate.” I had told God “no” so many times before. What if God was going to turn me over to a reprobate mind? What if I loved my sin more than I wanted to accept the Truth that I needed to be born again? I had no hope. Completely desolate. The act was over. The final curtain seemed to be closing. I was under such conviction.


My husband and I had made it a practice to kneel beside our bed and pray together before we went to bed each night. This night was entirely different than any other night before. I had heard in a previous sermon that “God heareth not sinners:”(John 9:31). So, I knew that my prayers were useless. I fought with all that was within me to try once again to persuade myself into thinking I was already saved. I had no desire to read God’s precious Word (I Peter 2:2). I wanted nothing to do with the brethren (I John 3:14.) and absolutely NOTHING about me was a new creature (II Corinthians 5:17.) That night my husband prayed for an eternity. I finally tapped him on the arm and stared at him. I was sobbing. I could hardly get the words out. I was broken. Exposed as the hypocrite that I was. Crying out to God, I begged Him to save me.


I was weary of the character I was playing. I was marvelously born again that late night. And my life has never been the same since.
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