My Journey to the Son Part 6

Following the testimonies, the crowd divided into small groups. The 8 or 9 people in my group adjourned to a classroom and sat in a circle with a discussion leader. Even though, with the exception of the leader, the others present were people I knew, I felt out of place,...an outsider. In contrast to my discomfort the others were smiling and apparently at ease. The leader opened with prayer and a sense of panic crept over me. Here's something I hadn't considered. Suppose, I wondered, I'm called on to pray? What will I say? It would be hard to explain but maybe it would be less embarrassing if I left right now. I stayed, seemingly glued to the cold metal chair, my stomach muscles rigid in anticipation of disaster. I felt trapped and paralyzed. The leader explained how the session would proceed. No one would be singled out to pray or to answer any question proposed. Inwardly, I sighed with relief.



The rest of what transpired in that classroom is mostly a blur in my memory. Except for the end of the session. The leader said , "Let's stand for prayer." We stood. "Now," she said, "Hold hands with the persons next to you." Yech! I was standing between two men. At the time, the thought of holding hands with men made me very uneasy. But, if that's what it took to finally get out of the situation I'd do it. Reluctantly, I did as instructed and survived the hand-holding. Our group dispersed and I left with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts roaring in my mind.



One night, a few months before the mission weekend, after all my family had retired, I went outdoors and looked up into the night sky. "God," I implored, "if you are real, where are you?" I listened. No answer. Hmm. Maybe God only talked to people good enough to talk to him. Maybe there was some churchy thing I had to do first; some ritual to perform. Maybe I needed to get my act cleaned up. Just wanting to talk to him didn't seem to be enough. I continued to listen but only the crickets answered. Or so I thought. Dejected, I trudged back into the house and to a night of fitful sleep.


We cannot begin to comprehend how much God loves us; how much he wants to "gather us under his wings like a hen gathers her chicks." I knew nothing about his grace. At that moment I had no inkling that God had already set events in motion that would bring me and my wife under his wings. "Whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved."

During the night something stirred and awakened in me. The next morning I no longer felt threatened by anything that might happen in the rest of the meetings. With each of the remaining meetings I felt peace expanding in me. It looks like this could be what I've been searching for. These laymen have simplified things and concepts that I've puzzled over for years. They said that Christ loves me just the way I am. He knows my name; knows where I live and that he died for me.

On Sunday morning my wife and I walked the aisle and knelt at the altar rail. I had not cried since I was a little boy but, as I knelt, tears of joy began to wash away years of pent up anger, resentment and doubts. Whom the Son sets free is free indeed.

Next week: Life changes

Agape to all,
Floyd