I was baptized as an infant, confirmed when in first grade, and attended church services every school day of every year until high school. Yet a true relationship with God didn’t exist. I knew about Him at a very early age. However, this is far different from knowing Him personally by faith in His Son.
As a young boy, I didn’t get into much trouble, but as I grew older, wayward living became my way of living. Life was just a game and a person won this game by getting all that he could. Although I didn’t realize it, my pursuits were without regard to their effect on others. Experiencing all this world had to offer surely would bring happiness, right? Wrong! Fast cars, wine, women, and song nearly cost me my life many times over. Looking back, I’m certain that God’s gracious hand preserved me through it all. Exceeding the speed limit and driving while intoxicated was a deadly combination: I totalled four good automobiles doing that.
One accident took place on the way home from a night out on New Year’s Eve. I had had far too much to drink, but I got in my car and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The next day, when the sheriff found my car, he called my father, since I was nowhere to be found.
I had passed out at the wheel at more than 80 miles per hour.,the sheriff estimated from the distance the car had traveled past the dead-end barricade. I do remember hitting several trees and the sound of the windows exploding as they shattered from the impact. When my car came to rest, it was just short of about 15 wooden bee hives. What would have happened had I hit them? Why wasn’t I killed?
During this time of riotous living, I found myself keeping company with others who pulled me down even further. At a wild neighborhood party, a girl came in the door severely beaten. The man who had beaten her was an ex-con from the Lincoln State penitentiary. After being told that this individual carried a handgun, I decided not to attempt any heroics. But after a few more drinks and some “encouragement” from my “good friends,” I went home to get my shotgun. (In the street, this is called equalizing the situation.) I then proceeded to this ex-con’s house in a car with two other people. Although I was scared, the alcohol and prodding from my “friends” persuaded me to make a very foolish decision. I shattered the man’s windows with buckshot. This drunken, irresponsible act set off a chain of events that endangered not only me but my family, but the Lord for His reasons kept us safe through it. I am still amazed that grace greater than all my sin was extended so abundantly to me.
“The way of the transgressor is hard.” This is a very practical reality. The grim evidence of this appears in sleepless nights, and the lack of peace from day to day. Both physically and emotionally, life becomes hard. With emptiness and anguish as my constant companions, I was left with no reason to live. It was only then that I searched for some answers outside myself.
My faithful sister had shared the gospel with me several years earlier. I knew very well Who to look to and what I needed to do. The difficulty I had in receiving Christ was not whether the Bible was true, or if God existed, but could His grace reach down and touch even me? How could this holy God possibly want a relationship with someone so sinful? Complete forgiveness by simply trusting in the finished work of Christ on the cross of Calvary? Thanks be to God! This glorious good news is available to all! “For God so loved the world,” and this included even me.
I placed my trust in the only begotten Son of God, with tears of joy streaming down my face at the realization that I too had been forgiven.
“My sin–oh, the bliss of this glorious thought,
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more.
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul!”
With salvation now secure, I was taught that sanctification should now become my focus. I began attending a Pentecostal assembly with my sister. The first item on their agenda was to see me get “truly” sanctified. This would be done by what they called being “baptized in the Holy Ghost.” At this time, I hadn’t realized my immersion had already taken place (1 Cor. 12:13). When the Sunday service was completed, I was taken to the front of the sanctuary. There I was “prayed over,” to receive the power of the Holy Ghost by this baptism. Several people began speaking in strange repetitive syllables (tongues). Their goal was for me to begin speaking in this manner, which for them would be evidence of the Holy Ghost within me.
With baby-like faith, and believing without a doubt this miracle of tongues would take place, I waited patiently. Nothing happened. The associate pastor then began coaching me, “It’s there, just let your voice go; don’t worry how it sounds, just let it go.” feeling pressure, I uttered a very little sound, but that was all he needed. “That’s it! That’s it!” he exclaimed. Then I was told to practice my new-found “prayer language.” Their reasoning was that after a baby is born, he or she doesn’t speak fluently and neither would I at first.
Serious questions arose in my mind. Although I was a new believer, even I could tell this wasn’t how it happened in the book of Acts. The disciples didn’t need to practice the tongues God had given them. Nor did the people who heard them have any difficulty understanding what was said in their own dialect.
Later I was introduced to the healing meetings, and the phenomenon of being “slain in the Spirit.” These only served as a stimulus for me to study God’s word. I wanted answers, and I’d come too far to accept anything less than sound doctrine.
During this very difficult time of confusion, the Lord brought several good men across my path–men in the assemblies of which I now am a part, men whose faith I could follow. They pointed me to books that could be relied on for their content. I was taught proper methods of interpretation, such as reading verses within their context before trying to decide what they meant. This alone helped me significantly when seeking to understand correct doctrine as it pertained to Pentecostal views of scripture. And, because of these men, true worship became an integral part of my Christian life. The privilege and purpose for exercising my priesthood at the Lord’s Supper were also explained.
Space in this article will not allow me to share all the ways in which I’ve been ministered to since coming into assembly fellowship. Yet I can say here as did the Apostle Paul to the Philippians, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.” With God’s sovereign hand upon me, and His patient saints beside me, progress in my pilgrim journey has been made.
My assembly received me into fellowship nearly 11 years ago, and the reasons I remain may be worth mentioning here. After all, I must admit that there are more exciting places to go, if excitement was really what I was searching for. Surely a more attractive building and larger numbers of people could be found, if these things were a priority to me, but they are not. Many times the Word that is preached at my assembly doesn’t tickle my ears as do many messages I hear on radio or television. So, why do I remain?
In such assemblies, the Word of God is upheld by the overseers as authoritative, inerrant, and infallible. Therefore, “The faith which was once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3) is preserved. Modification or compromises to sound doctrines are not easily entertained because of the safety found in the plurality of elders. I want to meet with men and women who are determined not to be “tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine,” the current trends of the day.
Worship, individual and corporate, is mentioned often in the Word of God and therefore is a practice that is emphasized in our meetings every week when we remember the Lord.
Naturally, we have our faults. However, I have seldom seen a group of God’s people so intent on lifting high the name of the Lord Jesus in the hearts and minds of those they meet–especially those that gather in His name alone. I for one am thankful to the Lord for that.
It is doubtful I would be alive today had not God in His mercy and grace reached down to lift me up. A prodigal that surely deserved judgment was instead given eternal life, an abundant life because of the unfailing love that was poured out at the cross of Christ.
And that was no accident.