Now I’m sure you’ve heard my brand of testimony before: I grew up in a typical Christian family. Went to church. Memorized verses. Even saw Joseph and the Technicolor Dream-coat three times . Christianity was something everyone said I needed. My parents said I needed it. My friends said I needed it. Billy Graham said I needed it. The guy on the street corner with a megaphone said I needed it. Religion was something good meaning individuals forced on me like lima beans; it was something that was good for me, but was never something I really wanted. Before long, church became a place where I sat listlessly until Mom’s Sunday roast was done, and Christianity became nothing more than another belief system with a few major candy-intensive holidays.
So, I went to college, putting my relationship with God on the back burner until things got hot my senior year. It was then, only weeks before I was to graduate, I found myself in trouble and was about to be thrown off campus. I had hosted a party in the dormitory that I, uh, really shouldn’t have. Everyone short of the dorm director was there. Alcohol was flowing and the party was in full swing—until the dorm director showed up. As I faced suspension, I feared the worst.
But someone stepped in and went to bat for me: an optimistic young lady who was nothing at all like me. She didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t swear, didn’t consume any of the things I lived for. She even ate the dorm food without complaining! She was my resident hall assistant and she was a Christian. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name, and to this day I doubt whether she knows the effect she had on my life.
As she reviewed with me the university policy regarding parties, as well as the dangers of drinking, not once did she berate or belittle me as did my previous dorm nazis. There was something genuinely different about her: She always seemed happy without indulging in the vices common to college students. Her happiness was founded in her relationship with Christ and she didn’t get in the way of allowing others to see it. There were no tracts slipped under my door; her testimony was in her actions.
She didn’t judge me. In fact, she saved my neck, preventing my suspension. As a good witness of Christ, she saved much more.
I didn’t know my resident hall assistant well, but I knew that I wanted what she had. Not needed, but wanted. That’s when I first craved the Lord—and from there, graduated and moved to Chicago for a job in advertising.
But after years of writing ads for everything from hemorrhoids to hairballs, and everyone from Michael Jordan to Snap! Crackle! Pop!, I took a real commercial break. I now devote my time and energy in Chicago working in urban ministry, communicating to these hip hoppin' teens the one message that matters, that being the message of Christ. And someday, hopefully, will be able to replace their infatuation with brand names with the longing for the brand marks of Christ
Ginger Sinsabaugh has been writing advertising since she landed her job at Leo Burnett in 1984. Ginger has worked with Snap! Crackle! Pop! as well as Michael Jordan. She has written everything from award-winning commercials for Yoplait to those box backs you read during breakfast. Some of the products Ginger has worked on include McDonald's, Velveeta, Wheaties, Rice Krispies, Tide, Downy, Clorox, L'eggs, and Ball Jars.