My story with God, Pt. 1
“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom He hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy.” (Ps. 107:2).
My story begins when I was around 8 years old. The pastor of the local SDA church knocked on our door one evening. He was “Ingathering.” My brothers and sisters and I ran around the house excitedly looking for a penny here and there to give away. After asking the man questions, Dad invited him to come back and teach him more about the Bible.
Dad was baptized and on fire to meet the Lord at His soon coming. We made friends with the other children at the church. Another family had almost as many children as we did, and about the same ages as ours, with whom we closely associated.
We all got involved in getting ready for Jesus to come. So, every autumn, for 4 weeks we went Ingathering. But, rather than an ingathering of souls, it was primarily an ingathering of money from the community. I never felt 100% comfortable knocking on strangers’ doors, but it was expected and I did it, even though at first I didn’t understand that the money was going to aid natural disaster victims. Any Ingatherer who received over $130 in donations from the neighborhood, earned the highest of Ingathering honors, the “Jasper Wayne” award. That award gave a young person a free week at Camp Blue Ridge during the summer. I have a photo of those of us who were Jasper Wayne awardees when I was about the age of 10. Curiously, of everyone there in that picture, I was the only person with a Bible hugged in his arms. Although I don’t specifically remember it, there must have been a special interest in the Book even at that young age.
One other memory of those days was of playing a game called, “Draw Swords.” It was designed to develop a knowledge of how the books of the Bible were arranged. It was a competition to be the first person to find a verse that was called out. I remember winning at that game a lot.
Around that time, I had a nightmare about Christ’s second coming. I saw brilliant orbs of light swooping down from the sky to cause great destruction and Jesus stood right in the middle and high above all the confusion. I woke up and went downstairs to tell my Mom and Dad. My Methodist mother, who didn’t care much for the Advent message, told me to eat a sandwich and go back to bed. I did, and slept the rest of the night. The next morning Dad told me I should have prayed about it. I felt bad for not doing the right thing.
About 4 years later, which was a million miles later from the standpoint of a young person, one day I was alone watching another funny re-run of the Dick Van Dyke show. Suddenly, a horrible anxiety came over me. It was so painful that I turned off the TV (a very strange thing for me to do in those days) and I walked outside, hoping for something exciting to take my mind off of the sinking feeling. But nothing was happening out in the yard, so I tried to deal with it. Over time, I looked for a remedy in school sports, school work, hanging out with friends during and after school, to make the peace of mind return. None of those things helped, and finally, over time, a conclusion dawned upon me, Christians must have the answer.
But, we didn’t have anyone according to the criteria that came with that Holy Spirit inspired conclusion. Now I see that such a condition within the church is due to not understanding and accepting Righteousness by Faith by Jesus. Nevertheless, all we had were religious people, church people. So, after a while of a futile search, I gave up on finding a Christian to seek advice from and to find out how to have a happiness no one in or out of the church seemed to know about.
I wasn’t ready for church one Sabbath morning, and I told my father that I wasn’t going any more. That must have broken his heart, but he confided in me, “David, I always hoped that one of my children would keep the faith. And I thought it would be you.” That guilt trip didn’t make me want religion any more than before. But I loved my father, so I caved in and dressed and went with him. I determined, however, to not go the next week; I was going to stand my ground. The following Sabbath I wasn’t ready again. Again, Dad told me something similar to the discussion from the previous Sabbath morning. I caved in again! But now I was really mad at myself. All my other brothers and sisters were allowed to stay home and watch cartoons and play with their friends! Why couldn’t I have that privilege? Because God had other plans for me.
On the way to church, I was sure that that Sabbath would be my last Sabbath; but an amazing thing took place. A young man, 21 years of age, showed up at our church. He was happy; he was a Christian; and he loved the people. Not even consciously thinking that this was the Christian I had been looking for for a year, I was drawn to him. I just had to get to know this new stranger. At first Richard was made the adult Sabbath School teacher. I would sit in the Mother’s room, looking through the big window dividing the Mother’s room from the sanctuary, while listening to my father teach me from the Earliteen lesson quarterly. I watched Richard walking back and forth in front of the adult class, animated and loving the Bible, the Lord, and the people. I was 15, he was 21; to me he was an adult, yet (like many teenagers think) not one of “them,” and his spirit brought the childlikeness out of him. He was more than I had been looking for during my year-long search. He was a “real” Christian, in my mind, and he soon after that became my Sabbath school teacher, which was an unexpected thrill. Other kids started coming and before I knew it, we had a thriving youth group centered around Bible study, prayer, singing the hymns, and learning how to be a good witness for Jesus. Richard had an intensity and a seriousness about spiritual things that communicated their a true reality of great importance. People from another church wondered how we were able to have a youth group centered around the Bible instead of basketball, as was the case in their church.
I became Richard’s shadow. I copied everything he did—the way he shook the adult’s hand, the way he sang. I learned to play the piano from him; I walked like him and talked like him. When I discovered that he was intelligent and education minded, I gained a new interest in school and my grades shot up. The Lord had thoroughly prepared me for this encounter; I finally had a friend like I had needed for years. For 1 ½ years he taught the group of us everything in the Bible and Spirit of Prophecy. He taught us the health message, dress reform, the history of the Advent movement, music, and so many other subjects, and he set the example of it all. He also tried to teach Righteousness by Faith, which he had heard from a theologian named, Morris Venden. But I couldn’t understand its importance. I had Richard. I felt no need for anything else. I didn’t realize the stresses I must have been putting on him by making him my all in all.
Then a sudden change of circumstances took Richard away from me. I had been with the growing youth group from its very inception, and reveled in it. Therefore, when Richard decided to leave, he bequeathed the group to me. I was a miserable failure as the leader of that precious group. I experienced the horror of seeing the dismantling of what I had come to love more than anything else—our youth group which had been firmly founded upon love to God and to each other. In a dramatic way, the Lord had changed me and given me a love for spiritual things, a love for the Bible and for ministry, which had set me apart from my siblings and the world. But I didn’t have the knowledge of the Bible that Richard had. I didn’t have his teaching ability, his quick wit, his heavy Adventist background, or his love and personal charm. So, the group immediately weakened and began to dissolve. The devil meant that failure to cause me evil, but the Lord meant it for good. He is so merciful. Forty years later, after many, many fumbles and foibles, I can say that His mercy endureth forever.
After all the youth ended up finding other places to go and other things to do on Sabbath afternoons, I was alone in a church that, for almost two years, had been so full of friendship and life and purpose and hope. Now I couldn’t bear another empty Sabbath; I wanted to die. Desperation drove me into the cluttered janitor closet behind the sanctuary, and knelt and pleaded with God to change me into the kind of leader that would bring the youth back to the church. I prayed hard for the first time, until my eyeballs felt like they would pop out of my head; but not a tear came to my eyes. That’s because I only knew how to be a Pharisee—albeit a genuine one—and Pharisees find no place for repentance in their heart. Evidently, Jesus must have seen something of worth in me.
Amongst the dusty overhead projectors and vacuum cleaners, I prayed and prayed for God to change me. But nothing happened. I didn’t turn into a true super-Christian. I didn’t get the wisdom that Solomon got when he prayed for it. I didn’t jump out of a phone booth, like Superman. Nothing happened. God, where are You? Maybe You don’t even exist. Like the Pharisee in the parable, I had been praying to myself. God can’t answer that kind of prayer because it would encourage wrong praying. But I am glad to learn from Luke 7:42 that God loves Pharisees, too. He did hear my prayer. He heard me and He set things in motion immediately.
My story begins when I was around 8 years old. The pastor of the local SDA church knocked on our door one evening. He was “Ingathering.” My brothers and sisters and I ran around the house excitedly looking for a penny here and there to give away. After asking the man questions, Dad invited him to come back and teach him more about the Bible.
Dad was baptized and on fire to meet the Lord at His soon coming. We made friends with the other children at the church. Another family had almost as many children as we did, and about the same ages as ours, with whom we closely associated.
We all got involved in getting ready for Jesus to come. So, every autumn, for 4 weeks we went Ingathering. But, rather than an ingathering of souls, it was primarily an ingathering of money from the community. I never felt 100% comfortable knocking on strangers’ doors, but it was expected and I did it, even though at first I didn’t understand that the money was going to aid natural disaster victims. Any Ingatherer who received over $130 in donations from the neighborhood, earned the highest of Ingathering honors, the “Jasper Wayne” award. That award gave a young person a free week at Camp Blue Ridge during the summer. I have a photo of those of us who were Jasper Wayne awardees when I was about the age of 10. Curiously, of everyone there in that picture, I was the only person with a Bible hugged in his arms. Although I don’t specifically remember it, there must have been a special interest in the Book even at that young age.
One other memory of those days was of playing a game called, “Draw Swords.” It was designed to develop a knowledge of how the books of the Bible were arranged. It was a competition to be the first person to find a verse that was called out. I remember winning at that game a lot.
Around that time, I had a nightmare about Christ’s second coming. I saw brilliant orbs of light swooping down from the sky to cause great destruction and Jesus stood right in the middle and high above all the confusion. I woke up and went downstairs to tell my Mom and Dad. My Methodist mother, who didn’t care much for the Advent message, told me to eat a sandwich and go back to bed. I did, and slept the rest of the night. The next morning Dad told me I should have prayed about it. I felt bad for not doing the right thing.
About 4 years later, which was a million miles later from the standpoint of a young person, one day I was alone watching another funny re-run of the Dick Van Dyke show. Suddenly, a horrible anxiety came over me. It was so painful that I turned off the TV (a very strange thing for me to do in those days) and I walked outside, hoping for something exciting to take my mind off of the sinking feeling. But nothing was happening out in the yard, so I tried to deal with it. Over time, I looked for a remedy in school sports, school work, hanging out with friends during and after school, to make the peace of mind return. None of those things helped, and finally, over time, a conclusion dawned upon me, Christians must have the answer.
But, we didn’t have anyone according to the criteria that came with that Holy Spirit inspired conclusion. Now I see that such a condition within the church is due to not understanding and accepting Righteousness by Faith by Jesus. Nevertheless, all we had were religious people, church people. So, after a while of a futile search, I gave up on finding a Christian to seek advice from and to find out how to have a happiness no one in or out of the church seemed to know about.
I wasn’t ready for church one Sabbath morning, and I told my father that I wasn’t going any more. That must have broken his heart, but he confided in me, “David, I always hoped that one of my children would keep the faith. And I thought it would be you.” That guilt trip didn’t make me want religion any more than before. But I loved my father, so I caved in and dressed and went with him. I determined, however, to not go the next week; I was going to stand my ground. The following Sabbath I wasn’t ready again. Again, Dad told me something similar to the discussion from the previous Sabbath morning. I caved in again! But now I was really mad at myself. All my other brothers and sisters were allowed to stay home and watch cartoons and play with their friends! Why couldn’t I have that privilege? Because God had other plans for me.
On the way to church, I was sure that that Sabbath would be my last Sabbath; but an amazing thing took place. A young man, 21 years of age, showed up at our church. He was happy; he was a Christian; and he loved the people. Not even consciously thinking that this was the Christian I had been looking for for a year, I was drawn to him. I just had to get to know this new stranger. At first Richard was made the adult Sabbath School teacher. I would sit in the Mother’s room, looking through the big window dividing the Mother’s room from the sanctuary, while listening to my father teach me from the Earliteen lesson quarterly. I watched Richard walking back and forth in front of the adult class, animated and loving the Bible, the Lord, and the people. I was 15, he was 21; to me he was an adult, yet (like many teenagers think) not one of “them,” and his spirit brought the childlikeness out of him. He was more than I had been looking for during my year-long search. He was a “real” Christian, in my mind, and he soon after that became my Sabbath school teacher, which was an unexpected thrill. Other kids started coming and before I knew it, we had a thriving youth group centered around Bible study, prayer, singing the hymns, and learning how to be a good witness for Jesus. Richard had an intensity and a seriousness about spiritual things that communicated their a true reality of great importance. People from another church wondered how we were able to have a youth group centered around the Bible instead of basketball, as was the case in their church.
I became Richard’s shadow. I copied everything he did—the way he shook the adult’s hand, the way he sang. I learned to play the piano from him; I walked like him and talked like him. When I discovered that he was intelligent and education minded, I gained a new interest in school and my grades shot up. The Lord had thoroughly prepared me for this encounter; I finally had a friend like I had needed for years. For 1 ½ years he taught the group of us everything in the Bible and Spirit of Prophecy. He taught us the health message, dress reform, the history of the Advent movement, music, and so many other subjects, and he set the example of it all. He also tried to teach Righteousness by Faith, which he had heard from a theologian named, Morris Venden. But I couldn’t understand its importance. I had Richard. I felt no need for anything else. I didn’t realize the stresses I must have been putting on him by making him my all in all.
Then a sudden change of circumstances took Richard away from me. I had been with the growing youth group from its very inception, and reveled in it. Therefore, when Richard decided to leave, he bequeathed the group to me. I was a miserable failure as the leader of that precious group. I experienced the horror of seeing the dismantling of what I had come to love more than anything else—our youth group which had been firmly founded upon love to God and to each other. In a dramatic way, the Lord had changed me and given me a love for spiritual things, a love for the Bible and for ministry, which had set me apart from my siblings and the world. But I didn’t have the knowledge of the Bible that Richard had. I didn’t have his teaching ability, his quick wit, his heavy Adventist background, or his love and personal charm. So, the group immediately weakened and began to dissolve. The devil meant that failure to cause me evil, but the Lord meant it for good. He is so merciful. Forty years later, after many, many fumbles and foibles, I can say that His mercy endureth forever.
After all the youth ended up finding other places to go and other things to do on Sabbath afternoons, I was alone in a church that, for almost two years, had been so full of friendship and life and purpose and hope. Now I couldn’t bear another empty Sabbath; I wanted to die. Desperation drove me into the cluttered janitor closet behind the sanctuary, and knelt and pleaded with God to change me into the kind of leader that would bring the youth back to the church. I prayed hard for the first time, until my eyeballs felt like they would pop out of my head; but not a tear came to my eyes. That’s because I only knew how to be a Pharisee—albeit a genuine one—and Pharisees find no place for repentance in their heart. Evidently, Jesus must have seen something of worth in me.
Amongst the dusty overhead projectors and vacuum cleaners, I prayed and prayed for God to change me. But nothing happened. I didn’t turn into a true super-Christian. I didn’t get the wisdom that Solomon got when he prayed for it. I didn’t jump out of a phone booth, like Superman. Nothing happened. God, where are You? Maybe You don’t even exist. Like the Pharisee in the parable, I had been praying to myself. God can’t answer that kind of prayer because it would encourage wrong praying. But I am glad to learn from Luke 7:42 that God loves Pharisees, too. He did hear my prayer. He heard me and He set things in motion immediately.
posted by David | 11:09 AM
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