How Christ Delivered Me From The Power Of Sin And My Old Carnal Natureby Ernest O'NeillIt's difficult loved ones to go too long at least it seems for me to go too long without testifying again to what Jesus did in my life. So I'd like to do that simply.I was a Methodist minister in Ireland and I sensed that God wanted us to go to London to study. My wife and I went there and I really didn't know what to do next. I was a Christian and knew that God had forgiven my sins. I knew that from when I was seventeen, when I went to University. That whole business of sex and the impossibility of doing anything about the strong drives that I had in that direction brought home to me the power of sin and the need to at least have it forgiven. When I went up to University in Ireland, I got down to what was to Protestants a dreadful thing, the Stations of the Cross. I began to spend my prayer time thinking about Jesus dying. I tried to get it through my own thick head that He had actually died and that there was a piece of soil in Palestine where His Cross had actually been thrust into the ground. Gradually I as I thought about that and my mind dwelt upon it I came to the conclusion He had really done that. There was really a man Jesus who had a beard that you could maybe smell if you were close to it or He had ears like mine and He had clothes on. He had actually died on a cross in Palestine and He had died looking right down the centuries past the Roman soldiers to Ernest O'Neal and saying, Father, forgive him for he knows not what he does.So it came home to me when I was seventeen, that Jesus had actually died for me and that because He had died for me, God was willing to forgive me my sins. So I was born of God when I was seventeen. From then on I had a bible study and a prayer life, not daily but pretty close to daily. Then I sensed the good God calling me to the ministry and that's why I went into the Methodist Ministry. Now after teaching in this literature for couple of years in Ireland, I went into the Methodist Ministry and then into Dublin, the position that I've described, where I felt God wanted us to go to London.We find ourselves in London and the Methodist Church there and then did not know what to do next. My life, even though it was Christian and I was committed to the ministry was not what it was meant to be. I didn't know what was wrong then, but I knew it, this is not a wonderful life. My mother would often say to me, "Ernest, Christians are supposed to be happy". I mean it was just like a sword in my side because I wasn't happy. I was worried and anxious and concerned and troubled most of the time or a lot of the time and very tense, yet I was a Christian. I knew that something was wrong but didn't know what.When it came to whether I'd go back to Ireland or stay in London I just, at last just said, "Lord I don't know". I began to seek God, fairly much day after day in London, where should I go? Through prayer came America and that was the last place I wanted to go because America had a lot of money, a lot of commercialism, it wasn't the place where you wanted to go if you were really serious about God, at least as a little Irish minister. I felt I was serious about God.That was the only answer I got so I went to my neighboring pastor and said did you know anybody in the America, he said he knew the Bishop of Minnesota and he'd arrive in London in the next month. So eventually I had dinner with the Bishop of Minnesota and ended up here in Minneapolis. That was about twenty years ago, the same year that Kennedy was assassinated. Then I got into the Methodist ministry here in America but found the same problem there as I had in Ireland. It was this, I can tie it down fairly precisely, a lady could come in to my study after I'd preached a sermon and could say, well I didn't think this and this and this was good, I thought you could have left that part out. Well I sat there in my chair because in seminary we're given smiling classes and I would smile because you're supposed to smile when they tear you apart. It really didn't matter is I was smiling because inside in my heart, I was resentful of her. I had rising up within me, a the feeling, "What right has she to talk about my preaching? What does she know about homiletics"?That was one of the problems. A rising up of resentment and criticism towards other people which I did not show on the outside but which were inside all the time. That was inward sin. I didn't know about that. I didn't know the distinction. I knew it was there, but I didn't know what you could do about it. That was one of the problems. I didn't show it on the outside because I was, well I had trained myself I suppose, to discipline my outward expressions to other people so that they wouldn't see what I was really thinking. I knew what I was thinking. Now, of course it really makes a break between you and the person you're speaking to because they think you're one thing and you're really another. So you don't feel in communion with them but they may feel they're in communion with you. You know that this is just a hypocritical appearance that you're putting on. So that was one problem.Another problem was selfish ambition. I don't know about the brothers here, but we men are taught that we must achieve things. We get the idea that we must make a niche for ourselves in the hall of fame somewhere I certainly was convinced of that and felt often driven by a selfish ambition to be somebody important. I wanted to be somebody well known, somebody famous, for people to like me, people to respect me and for to be successful. I wanted to be able to write back and tell my mother what I'd done in this world or something like that.So selfish ambition which often drove you to be very jealous of anybody else who did anything half reasonably, so even if someone sang a song or somebody else did something well, that wasn't doing me any harm at all, yet I was so preoccupied with being center-stage and being the important one that I would feel jealous of them or envious. I did not even want to sing, I just feel I didn't want them to be that well know or well liked or well respected when I wasn't. Selfish ambition begot in me jealousy and envy and of course a lot of pride. That was the second plain thing that I knew in my life. Pride. It was pride about all the facts I knew about Christianity. I felt I had the ability to explain it to other people better then anyone else. That came to me when the Holy Spirit give me revelation and came in those very words.Yes I had pride and it was a thing that was debilitating because you preach a sermon and everybody would say, oh that really brought God's Word home to me but actually you took that to yourself and said that means it was a good sermon I did well. That I had succeeded and I'm very clever that I can really see truths about God and obviously pretty good at communicating it to other people. Now actually it's still a whole joy and delight of being any use to God at all because I was so concerned with pride in what I could do in the past. Now, of course that's what brought the resentment when somebody criticized me. I felt, if only they could see all the good things that I do, if they could see all the wonderful things I do, they wouldn't criticize me. There was a great deal of reaction against any criticism because of that pride.
