In a sweeping moment, a great veil of darkness was ripped from my soul. All things dark were shattered by the light of glory, and my heart started to beat with life for the first time. All living creatures around me sang a new song, as if the world itself had experienced a renewal. I felt as though each new day would be filled with wisdom, joy, and understanding. I’m sure that there are those who have experienced such a transformation when coming to God for the first time. As a ten-year-old boy searching for answers, my experience was NOTHING of the sort. In fact, I would later find out that my ten-year-old experience left me as lost as ever.
All things dark were shattered by the light of glory and my heart started to beat with life for the first time.
My parents and I had recently moved from the city streets of Los Angeles to the sprawling mountains of Tiller, Oregon. Around that same time, my mom had come to know Jesus and was regularly attending a nearby country church. Sunday mornings were converted from just another day into an opportunity to seek her Savior. It was one such morning, sitting in the car and waiting for the engine to warm up, that this broken young boy voiced his concerns about the future. Even at the age of ten, I struggled with the question of how I would spend my time on this earth. I would often tell those closest to me that I was already ten and had yet to accomplish anything of significance.
I would often dream of the day when my fame as a writer would lead me to every corner of the earth, provide me with wealth untold, and place me at the top of any social mountain one might consider. I would dream of starting a business and being sought after for my immense experience and wisdom. The resulting emotion was not joy or anticipation. It was a deep worry that I would run out of time to achieve such lofty goals. Time. The one thing that many of us fight, ever knowing it’s a losing proposition, was the focus of this ten-year-old boy living in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by more nature and animals than people. Even if time itself should somehow slow, opportunity was nowhere to be found.
The rain lightly pattered on the roof of the car and streamed gently down the windshield. The engine sputtered to life with the occasional cough and grumble you’d expect from an aged Toyota four-banger. I can still smell the light fragrance of mold from the weathered cloth seats and hear the tinny sounds of Amy Grant coming from the small factory speakers. In one of my many fits of worry, I asked my mom how the lady singing could be so happy. The answer came as best answers do, simply. “Son, she knows Jesus,” my mom responded with confidence. In my desperation for answers, I asked several more questions about who this Jesus was and what it meant to know Him. With patience and care, my mom answered my questions and asked if I would like to know Him as well. I responded with a whispered and unsteady yes. She asked me to close my eyes and repeat her words.
“Jesus, I know I’m a sinner and I can’t do this on my own. I do believe you died on the cross for me and rose from the grave. Please save me.”
At her prompting, I opened my eyes and could see tears in hers. I felt… I’m not completely sure how I felt. From my mom’s emotion, I knew it was a moment of great importance. She had been taught that all it takes to be saved is to say a simple prayer, the sinner’s prayer, and that’s it. The deal is sealed, and you’re on your way to heaven. She and others would often say, “Once saved, always saved.” While I do believe that the one who has true saving faith is sealed and that seal cannot be broken, I have since learned what true saving faith actually is. I’ve come to understand that a prayer does not save you.
The road since then has been broken, filled with blind curves, crumbling edges, deep potholes, and more inclement weather than I care to admit. I spent many years after that day acting as my own god and chasing my own wisdom. With each step down this treacherous path, I told myself that at least I was saved, so there was still hope for me. I spent most of my days chasing pleasure and power, and while I obtained some power and a great deal of fleeting pleasure, the road led to a dead end, perhaps even to the edge of a great cliff. After roughly thirty years of a disastrous life, at around forty years old, I found myself divorced, broke and broken, directionless, and completely hopeless.
God showed me His great grace by leading me to Southern California, where I happened upon a church whose message would change my life forever: the true gospel. I walked in, sat down, and listened, really listened, as John MacArthur preached a message that struck me to the very core. I was devastated and revived in a single moment. After that, I began attending church up to three times a week. I was thirsty for the Word and had a deep, new desire to follow Christ. I didn’t simply tell God I was sorry. I found myself wanting to change everything, to live for Him, to seek Him.
I purchased large theology books, including Historical Theology and Systematic Theology, and began to study. Since then, I have graduated from The Master’s University with a Bachelor’s in Christian Ministries and have completed the MABC program. I am also an ACBC certified counselor. None of that education saved me. My thirst for His truth and my desire to live according to His Word are how I know He has changed me. And what a drastic and progressive change that has been. I am thankful that He gave me the gift of repentance and belief and removed my heart of stone.