“Christmas in July,” a local bar promoted, was an occasion not to celebrate the birth of the Saviour of the world but rather as an excuse to have its patrons drink more alcohol. I was part of the revelry that night, even joining others in the irreverent singing of Christmas hymns.
But the “peace on earth” and “goodwill toward men” was shattered when I got into a confrontation with another drunk. When the smoke cleared and the rattle of broken glass died, I had thrown my rival through a 6′ by 12′ window. Such happenings are sure to attract the attention of the police and it wasn’t long before they arrived on the scene.
I recognized the investigating officer as a fellow with whom I had attended Police College in Aylmer, Ontario. Following our arrest and during the subsequent interrogation, a vehicle parked in front of the scout car. Out jumped a man, dressed in pajamas, his hair dishevelled and his eyes still blurry with sleep. Evidently our raucus behavior had disturbed the sleep of the establishment’s owner.
I was not prepared for his reaction as he peered at us through the police car’s window. His laughter seemed totally inappropriate for the occasion. It made more sense, however, when I learned that the man I’d thrown through the window had that same afternoon sold an insurance policy to the tavern owner!
I would have better appreciated the humor of the situation if my behavior itself had not become so despicable and something to laugh at. Everything seemed to go wrong in my life. A cutback in manpower in the General Motors Plant in Windsor sent me back to the production line from my job as a security guard. What a letdown and a bruise to my pride! Especially as I boasted of being in charge of my own destiny!
Eagerly I sought ways to exit the dead-end street which my life had become. Night school, self-help books, mind control techniques–I spared no effort to climb out of the pit. All was in vain.
Like a scene in a play, Glen and P. J. now enter the stage. Glen had been such a “funloving guy” in the year we commuted together to work. Suddenly he became serious and quiet. Our routine of having a beer after work was now out of the question for Glen. The reason for the dramatic change in his life became apparent one day when he said, “I love you, Rick, because the Lord Jesus Christ loves me and has wonderfully saved me.” I was not altogether sad when Glen was transferred to another department. “At least now I only have to deal with P. J.” I thought to myself. “Will I ever get away from these religious guys?”
Before I’d listen to what Paul (P. J.) had to say, my life had to hit rock bottom. One night in a drunken stupor, my stomach threatening to vomit, I drove my pickup off the side of the road. Falling out of the truck into a rain-swollen ditch, I decided to hike cross-country to my home for fear of being arrested for impaired driving. After walking across several fields, I suddenly became entangled in a barbed-wire fence guarding a major highway in Southern Ontario. Trapped, my head spinning and my body drenched with rain, I looked up into the sky and cried out, “God, help me–please!”
Managing to squirm free, I then crossed the busy highway, a feat not recommended even in the daytime and when one is sober. It was only the protecting hand of God that brought me safely across. Covered with mud from head to foot, I walked another seven miles until I reached a road where I stuck out my thumb to hitch a ride. “Have you been in an accident?” an elderly couple inquired, as they stopped to provide assistance. I was too embarrassed to answer.
I felt as low as any man could feel. I recalled the days when as a policeman I had to run in drunks who smelled of cheap wine. Now the roles were reversed. As the smell of booze, vomit, and sewer ditches filled my nostrils, I started to cry. When finally I arrived home, I found my wife Cecile worried sick. Later, my daughter told me, “I wanted to run away from home.”
I tried all I could to turn my life around. I poured out the booze that I had in the house. Out came the self-help books again with their guarantees of happiness. Alongside, however, were the conversations on the job with P. J. which always centered on Jesus Christ, not religion. I had always thought they were the same. “You can never work yourself to God,” P. J. said. “The only way to Him is through faith in His Son Jesus Christ.” It all sounded too simple to me.
One day I was left speechless when P. J. asked, “Rick, when you die, are you going to heaven or hell?” I hadn’t given it much thought and when I did, I’d always figured, “If you keep your nose clean, Rick Douglas, there shouldn’t be any problem.”
Again in the workplace and on another occasion, P. J. asked, “Do you believe, Rick, that Jesus Christ died for your sins?” “Yes,” I answered. “Do you believe,” he added, “that Jesus Christ was buried in a tomb for three days and then was bodily resurrected?” Again I replied in the affirmative. “Then do you know,” P. J. concluded, “that without a shadow of a doubt you can be sure you are saved?” That I couldn’t buy. It was too easy in my way of thinking. I purposed to stay away from P. J. I couldn’t deal with his questions anymore.
On a cold, rainy night in December, upon retiring to our barn, I began to cry without figuring out why. Looking up, I prayed, “Well, God, what do you want with me? What do you want me to do?” He was about to answer me.
The very next day, a Bible verse which I was reading, jumped out at me, “Whosoever therefore shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also before My Father which is in heaven”(Matt. 10:32). Jesus’ words were clear to my heart. On December 13, 1986, I took the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Saviour.
I can’t begin to express what the Lord Jesus Christ means to me today. I praise Him for His marvellous work of grace in my life. What a joy it is to know Him as my gracious Friend and Master. I can now, in a sense, celebrate His Incarnation every day, even in July!