Victory In Jesus

Weekends were busy for me in high school. My newfound faith found new friends in the form of a local gospel team called The Christian Victors. Their theme verse was I Corinthians 15:57; their theme song was Victory In Jesus by E.M. Bartlett.

Buddy P. was the president. He was a mentally-challenged young man (older to me) with a heart of gold. He literally loved everyone. Always had a smile. Always spoke of God's love. He had a special desire to write to movie stars and tell them about Jesus. He wrote hundreds of letters --- and got many replies, including autographed photos.

The other two leaders were Joe N. and Denny S.. Joe was a robust fellow with big ideas. He was a great encourager and was instrumental in helping people to develop their potential. At one point during my high school years he owned and operated a small pizza place, where he sold pizza by the slice, didn't serve beer, and provided a place for teens to hang out. It attracted mostly Christian teens, who practised their testimonies on each other, ate pizza and drank Coke. It was just down the street from my house, so I was a regular.

Denny was a quiet, friendly fellow, who was engaged to a lady who was the sister of a temporary girlfriend of mine. I don't know what Denny did for a living, nor do I recall what he did for the Team. Denny, Joe and Buddy were the only adult influences in my life at that time, since I was an only child, and my folks were generally unavailable.

The Christian Victors went around to churches to share their testimonies in word and song, followed by some preaching. One Sunday at a church Joe was leading the group and asked if any of the team had anything else to share (we were near the end of the service). I raised my hand and said that I would like to sing a song. I had been singing at home along with my record player to the sounds of the Beatles, Elvis and Tennessee Ernie Ford. Since John Lennon didn't seem appropriate in church, and I imagined I had a rich bass voice like Ernie, I stood and sang a solo without accompaniment. To my surprise, most everyone loved it.

I found it easy to learn both tenor and bass parts, so I became a regular participant in quartets, trios, groups --- and now solos. This experience began to bring me out of my shyness, and I was more willing to share openly in front of any number of people.

Then a horrible automobile accident, in which I was driving, almost sent me permanently back into my shell.

I Have Decided To Follow . . .

My Dad was overseas in Vietnam; my Mom was a busy restauranteur (owned and operated two of them); I was immersed in a "safe" Christian community. It had a leader, named Gus. It accepted me, when no one else would. It had a guidebook, the Bible, with their interpretations. It had unwritten rules that were strictly adhered to. And it didn't take kindly to asking questions or leaving. Sound like a cult?

Youth For Christ had two goals: 1) Get saved; and 2) Teach you to get others saved. I struggled with, but succumbed to the first one and utterly failed at the second. Each rally would close with an altar call. The altar was the audience-edge of the stage; the call was a heartfelt plea to accept Jesus into your heart, all accompanied by the incessant singing of Gospel verses until someone responded. It didn't usually take long.

I never went forward, but on one occasion, following a rally, I went home, knelt by my bed, and said the words that were supposed to change my life. From then on I proudly boasted (to my Christian friends only) that I had accepted Jesus. The second part of the altar call was for those who felt that they hadn't been living for the Lord and wanted to rededicate their lives. I recall wondering how so many of the kids around me, the same ones who had recently gotten saved, were already backslidden to a point where they had to go forward again.

Shortly after my salvation experience I wrote to my Dad in Vietnam and spoke to my Mom, who was at that time living a less-than-pious lifestyle. I got a letter back from my Dad, saying that he was pleased that I had salvation, that all the years of taking me to church must have took. My Mom lectured me on how she used to sing in a gospel group as a child, that her daddy (my grandpa) was a preacher before he got cancer and took to drinking, and that I couldn't teach her anything about Christianity.

After you got saved, Youth For Christ, like Billy Graham's crusades, would steer you into a local church that had similar teaching. Somehow I ended up at Edgewood Baptist, not far from my home (but not down the street), where I would be encouraged to be baptised by immersion. While I was assured that baptism was not required for salvation, it certainly rounded out the process and was "commanded by our Lord."

One other important YFC experience. I had a brief relationship with a cute Italian girl that I met in the youth choir. A few years later we would meet again and commit to a marital bond that is now going on 40 years.

With salvation firmly in hand, I was prime for another Christian group that was lurking in the shadows of Youth for Christ, seekng new converts to fill their agenda. This was the experience that would move me from the pew to the stage.

If You're Saved And You Know It . . .

YFC was the place for me --- in high school. Ever the loner, I wandered through my first year, making few friends, putting in my time. I wasn't really unhappy; I just didn't fit in. I played right guard on the Junior Varsity football team (I've always been a big boy.), but I didn't play very well, and the hot Florida sun workouts didn't fit in with my chocolate sundaes and TV.

I was just starting to drive, and I became friends with another loner, David B., a short, stocky fellow, who came from a fairly well-to-do family. I also discovered (or they found me) a small group of upbeat kids, led by a curly-haired young man by the name of George S.. He was president of a school club called Youth for Christ. Already having a secondary religious nature, I easily adapted to this band of Christian enthusiasts.

I was regularly teased for my straight-laced behaviour by several other boys in school, but this new group of friends welcomed me just as I was. The interesting thing about the off-color teasing from the "heathen" boys was that they thought that I didn't know what they were alluding to. But with TV (been watching it since I was born), and the worldy Jimmy D. and David B., I was pretty savvy to the innuendos directed my way. However, I didn't let on that I knew, and I felt uncomfortable being around such talk.

The YFC club met weekly in one of the classrooms. The meetings consisted mainly of reading the Bible, praying and brainstorming on how to get our classmates "saved." I recall one campaign we pursued to add God into our team spirit. Edgewater high school's mascot was an eagle, so we printed up the verse Isaiah 40:31 (they that wait upon the Lord ... shall mount up with wings like eagles), mimeographed (There's a word from the past!) hundreds of them and stuffed them in all of the hall lockers before the big game.

The only other activity in the YFC club was preparing for Saturday night, when clubs from all of the other local schools would compete in Bible memorization at the Youth For Christ rally in downtown Orlando. Several hundred students would congregate in the YFC youth center for singing, entertainment and preaching. The contest consisted of sitting on an electronic signal pad attached to a folding chair, then waiting for the moderator to begin reading slowly a verse from the Bible. The contestant who knew the verse would jump up, then, when acknowledged as having been first, would be required to complete it and give its reference. It was actually quite fun, even though it was King James version. Sort of like Shakespeare doing a Christian game show.

I would later become president of Edgewater's Youth For Christ club, but first I had to get "saved."