This page is not about religion. It is not about church dogma. It is not about who has the most faith. This page is about life. I dedicate this to the glory of God, and in the hope to speak to anyone who wants to know and serve God, but who, for whatever reason, has fallen on difficult times. If you feel all is lost, please read.
What follows is lengthy. I hope you will read it all. But if you do not care, at this time, to read it all, PLEASE read at least page 3.
6 October, 1973 I attended the final night of a Billy Graham Crusade in Raleigh, North Carolina at Carter Finely Stadium. I did not attend out of curiosity. The church was a regular part of my childhood experience. My heroes as I as growing up were the patriarchs in the Bible.
I remember enjoying looking at a picture Bible my maternal grandparents gave to me when I was very young. I was fascinated by pictures of Noah building the ark, and of Abraham leading an ill equipped (humanly speaking) army against the hordes which had captured his nephew. I remember the pictures of Moses standing before the sea as he watched it open. As a child I thought I would be strong like Samson if I didn't cut my hair. I loved the pictures of David bringing down the giant.
Even though I didn't have any sort of thought pattern about the God who strenghtened these men, I knew they were strong because of Him. I remember my grandmother telling me of God's provision for those who trusted Him. Even as a child I wanted to be strong like them.
I had a terrible inferiority complex growing up. It was clear to me that if I wanted to be strong like these great Biblical heroes, I needed to depend on God. This didn't seem like a religious idea to me. It was more like having a sense of mattering. I could be strong. This was very appealing to me.
As a young man, working in my father's grocery store in Mount Olive, North Carolina this all began to solidify into theology. Each Thursday the stock delivery truck came. One Thursday, as my co-workers and I unloaded the truck, I noticed the driver sitting down reading a book. When we had finished I asked him what he was reading. He told me it was a Bible. This, somehow, sparked my interest. I wanted to know more about what he was reading. He told me about salvation. I am sure, growing up in church, that I had heard of salvation before. But that particular day it was like it was all brand new. He told me about a gang leader in a large mid western city named Nicky Cruiz who was saved at a David Wilkerson Crusade. I couldn't understand why this God I had come to know, who was all about strength, and equipping people who loved Him, would save a person who had intentionally killed another human being. This was all new to me, and I couldn't fully comprehend it. This was in early 1973.
When I heard, later that year, that Billy Graham was going to be in Raleigh, I knew I wanted to attend. I knew I was going to go down when he gave the invitation, and receive Christ as my Savior. This is exactly what I did.
This, however, was not a transition as much as it was a beginning of a more intentional effort to know the God I had always wanted to trust. I began reading the Bible for the first time. I became involved more intentionally in church activities (serving on committees, being involved in worship, etc).
In 1978, while attending worship with my wife, I listened as the preacher read from Matthew 9:35-38. Somehow these words spoke to me. Jesus was moved with compassion, because they were scattered and distressed, like sheep having no shepherd. He told His disciples that the harvest was ready, but the laborers were few, and that they should pray to the LORD of the harvest to send laborers into the vineyard. I didn't fully understand who the "scattered" and "distressed" were. Almost everyone in the circles to which I belonged seemed to have it all together. All I knew at that moment was that I wanted to be one of His laborers. I began to prepare, at that time, to become a preacher.
