God's Testimonies

December 2, 2025

I've been reading the Bible and finally made it halfway through. It took me 39 years to get this far. This isn’t a bragging right—simply a small celebration.

I remember finishing my first real novel back in college. It was my cousin Zer’s book, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I closed it. I held it to my chest while sitting on a coach bus headed somewhere—maybe Texas. That moment isn’t my only memory of books, but it was the first testimony of how a book could change my life.

Growing up, I attended Sunday School. I learned the great Bible stories and memorized the famous John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that He gave His One and Only Son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” For most of my life, those Bible stories were simply that—stories.

But now, in Psalm 119, I’m beginning to understand that those stories are my heritage. My heritage!
Verse 111 says, “Your testimonies I have taken as a heritage forever, for they are the rejoicing of my heart.”

What is heritage, and what does it mean to carry it?

When I think of heritage, I think of being Hmong, being American, and the values rooted in both cultures and the way they’ve woven together inside me. I think about the stories passed down to communicate identity, resilience, and hope. To carry heritage means to pass on the stories that came before us and will continue beyond us.

So what are the stories my children hear in Sunday School?

Stories about Noah—righteous, faithful, unrelenting in his commitment to complete the mission God gave him, building an ark that would carry pieces of the old world into the new.

Stories about God’s faithful friend Abraham, and the trust and loyalty between them. How God gave Abraham and Sarah their first child when they were nearly 100 years old.

Stories about Jacob and his sons, and the jealousy the older brothers felt toward their baby brother Joseph because of God’s favor—yet how God turned their evil intentions for good and used Joseph to save their family from famine.

Stories about a mother who gave up her precious baby Moses to save him from death, not knowing God would later raise him up to deliver His people from slavery and oppression in Egypt.

And then—one of the greatest miracles: How God split the Red Sea. How thousands walked through on dry ground, while the waters stood like walls on both sides. A whole nation crossed over—not by their strength, but by God’s mighty hand.

Stories about how God provided water from a rock, and bread from heaven—manna appearing fresh each morning in a barren wilderness where survival made no sense.

Stories of battles won not by military strength but by God’s intervention—like Joshua defeating entire armies because the Lord fought for Israel, even stopping the sun in the sky so victory could be completed.

Stories of walls—Jericho’s mighty walls—falling simply because God commanded His people to march, shout, and believe.

Stories of judges God raised up again and again—Gideon defeating thousands with only 300 men, and Samson empowered with supernatural strength to protect God’s people.

Stories about prophets—Samuel hearing God’s voice as a child, Elijah calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel, Elisha watching an iron axe head float in water.

And woven through all of it are the rhythms we see repeated throughout the Old Testament:
God’s people disobeyed, cried out, repented—and God restored them every time. He kept every covenant. Every promise. All because of those who loved Him, served Him, and walked in obedience.

These stories are not just stories. They are the heritage of all who belong to Him.

As I sit with this revelation and let it settle in my heart, my desire is that my children will gain a deeper understanding much earlier than I did. I pray that as I continue learning the testimonies of God, His precepts will keep me and quicken me all the days of my life. And I pray that the heritage I have in Christ will endure forever in my family—woven into our story, our identity, our future.

Amen.