This story begins with a young man who knew it all. I knew what was best for me, and how I should live my own life. I was going to enjoy those things in which I gloried. Thus, I wasted much of my high school years in drugs and alcohol. I left home a month before my eighteenth birthday to live in the manner that I chose.
In university I reaped some of the fruits of my labor. Although I engaged in less substance abuse there, I skipped more classes than I attended, and left more than I sat through. The university thought that I shouldn’t come at all because of my poor grades. The Bible says, “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall” (Prov. 16:18), and I was proud. I had always thought of myself as being smarter and wiser than anyone else, and now it seemed that my pride was misplaced. I flunked out of school. I had a desire to fix my situation, and to restore that pride.
One day at work a co-worker told me she had not been to church since she came to university. Interested, I said that I would accompany her to a service, in fact there was a large church building with interesting architecture near where I lived. That Sunday we attended the service, and we went again a couple of weeks later. I can remember that the only one who came to greet us was the man whose job it was to do the greeting. Although we didn’t get too much out of the visits to that church, I felt good about myself for going. With that in mind, I wanted to attend church the following Sunday.
There was one problem—easily solved—which was this: the big stone building had no meeting on Sunday evening, and I was working in the morning. Thus, I decided to visit another (boring looking) place down the street. I thought that the evening meeting started at 7:30, so I showed up promptly at 7:29. To my surprise I was a half-hour late. The speaker had already started. I sat down, noticing that although I was wearing cut-off jean shorts and my trusty sandals, most of the people there were either wearing suits and ties (for the men) or dresses (for the ladies). I remember that I didn’t really know what the topic of the message was, but not long after I arrived, the preacher finished and the meeting was over.
Right away a man rushed over to greet me. “So tell me, what brought you out to Bethel Chapel?” he inquired.
Soon, he had found out quite a few things about me, and was interested in learning more. He was also interested in having me meet his wife. I met another person as well, a few more people, and some more, and more. It seemed to me that soon everyone in the place would know me.
This “receiving line” waned as I began to talk to a fellow, Sandy McEachern, and he began asking me about spiritual matters, so we drew aside into the nursery for some quietness. It was then that I found out why people were Christians. It wasn’t because they were square, but because they thought that due to sin and the penalty of sin, the only way to be right with God was to receive forgiveness through the sacrifice of the sinless Jesus. I was 21 years old, and this was the first time that I heard such a message.
That night, he invited me to receive forgiveness for myself, but I was unsure, and declined. He also invited me to play on the baseball team that they were starting up. Having a love of playing sports, I agreed.
Even though I agreed, I probably wouldn’t have gone unless someone had called, and that person even came to pick me up at my house. That summer I played with them, and I watched them. Even though they didn’t drink or swear or put people down, they still seemed to be happy and have fun. I went to the morning and evening meetings on Sunday, and heard the messages. It seemed to me that they were all directed at me—“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” I didn’t know what they could have gotten out of those messages.
In the afternoons, a wonderful woman from the chapel would have several people over to her house for lunch. They always prayed before eating, not to mention before playing baseball, and before leaving. I was very impressed with the character of the people, and with the fact that they seemed to really want to honor God by their lives.
In the fall, I was invited to go on the Upward Bound retreat, which is held in Waterloo, ON, for a week, before they go camping in Algonquin Park for the second week. I was invited to attend the camping part—another love that I have. The trip was great, and we were able to get some time alone to think. It was in the quiet moments on that trip that I decided that I wasn’t going to be a Christian. They were great people, but I didn’t believe what they believed. I would have to find something else that would work for me.
As hard as it was, because I genuinely liked the people, I stopped attending Bethel. Weeks later, as they gathered for a mid-week prayer meeting, someone said, “We haven’t seen Dan for a while. Let’s pray for him.” That night I felt a great sense of loneliness, and so I went for a walk to think some things over. I thought of how I was leading my life. I was trying to hide the emptiness inside by keeping busy. I thought of all that I had heard at Bethel, and from the Christians.
Two things stuck out in my mind. Jesus said that if a person heard His words and obeyed, it would be like building a house on a rock, and when the storms came, the house would stand. That was what I wanted. I had already ruined my life up to that point; I was looking for the truth to which I could cling in building my life back up. Could I trust Jesus? Well, He had a lot to say about life and how to live it, but He also had a fair bit to say about death and what happens afterwards. The fact that He rose from the dead proves that He knew what He was talking about. With those two things in mind, I thought that the most logical thing would be to follow Him. And so, on the corner of King and Bridgeport, I made a commitment in my heart, to follow Him wherever He would lead me.
I hurried over to the gas station where a friend worked the graveyard shift, and boldly announced, “I think I’m going to get baptized!” That’s all I knew to say. That Sunday I went to the meeting, and afterwards I tried to say what had happened, but fortunately I didn’t have to say much—they could tell. The following Sunday I attended the Lord’s Supper for my first time, where I unashamedly shed tears of joy. Two weeks later I was baptized.
That old pride in my supposed cleverness was exposed and didn’t survive, but my heart was restored, and my life was made useful. With God my academic failure was changed to success. His ways are good. I am now convinced that to follow Him is better than anything that the world can offer.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
It wasn’t long before testing came. I was accepted back into university, but because of my failures, I couldn’t receive any provincial loans. I had a bit of money saved up, and my Christian grandparents helped wonderfully, which gave me enough to pay tuition. I still had books, rent, and food to worry about. I prayed. The Lord, it seemed, wanted me to go to school, and I complied. I applied for a bursary for the amount that I needed to get me through the semester: $1200. I received the bursary. This was good news and I would have been very happy about it if I didn’t have another concern—a painful toothache, that demanded my attention. The cost of fixing it? $1187. That was the money that I was to live on for the next four months! As the receptionist explained the cost, my heart sank.
But God provided. I was able to work part-time. Some dear brethren gave me money without being asked. I lived economically. The Lord brought me through. In my need I was thrust on Him, forced to rely on His provision. In seeing God meet my needs here, I am more fully convinced that He will meet my needs all the way Home.