Bits and Pieces

It’s interesting how certain conversations, even brief ones, stick in your mind after many years. As Youth for Christ president (in the school club) I was busy keeping things organized, giving devotionals and working with new converts. One young fellow started out as an eager believer, but his parents --- particularly his dad --- weren’t so sure about what he had gotten into. When he suddenly stopped coming to the club meetings, I gave him a call at home.

He said that his dad had explained to him how the Bible didn’t make any sense and that he was foolish for coming to the club meetings. I replied that his salvation experience was a very serious matter, that he should continue in his new belief, even though he was forbidden from being with us. He then quoted a passage from the Bible (also suggested by his dad) --- Matthew 5:20 Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and the Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven. (KJV)

He explained that since he wasn’t planning on entering another life in a box (case), then he didn’t have to worry about the warning. I said that he was misinterpreting the scripture and that his salvation was eternal, unless he really hadn’t accepted Christ in the first place. Little did I know at the time that we were both stupid in our understanding of what God was saying.

One time David B. and I pretended we were sick in order to skip school. Our real purpose, however, was to go down to the Youth for Christ center and help Joe N. work on the Christian Victor’s float for the upcoming parade. The YFC director, Gus, came out and mildly admonished us for cutting school. We had justified our action by the fact that we were doing the Lord’s work, and that presenting the gospel in a visual format was more important than school. Joe didn’t seem to care either way; he was just glad to get the help.

On another occasion I was at David’s house, hanging out with him and his little brother (I can’t remember his name). The brother challenged me regarding the fact that if I really believed that all who rejected Christ were going to spend eternity in Hell, then I should be on my hands and knees, begging them to repent. I mumbled something about how that wouldn’t bring them any closer to accepting, but in my heart I considered it too embarrassing to see myself employing such dramatics.

This same boy would convict me again weeks after the auto accident that put him and his brother in the hospital. Immediately following the event, I went home, devastated, because the accident had been my fault; I had acted irresponsibly and had almost cost someone their life. I went to the hospital the next day to check on everybody. David’s brother had already been released. David was in good spirits, joking that a broken collar bone would keep him out of the army, and it did (this was during Viet Nam). The young girl was also in good spirits and seemed to hang onto her recent salvation experience, in spite of the fact that it seemed that God had not protected her from injury on the very night of her decision.

However, for days I couldn’t eat or sleep. I moped around the house. Finally, one day, I just let it all out; the tear dam burst, and I lay sobbing in my mother’s arms. I needed to get away. The Christian Victors had planned an overnight fishing/witnessing trip on the coast and, after much compelling from Joe, I went along. The night was pleasant. We sang gospel songs around a campfire. And I slept --- like a rock. I was told the next day that no one in the group had ever heard another human being snore so loudly.

As embarrassing as that was, what came next was worse. David’s brother had been released from the hospital the day following the accident, was already recovering well, and had come along with us to the beach. I had begun to feel like a burden was lifting from my chest, when he walked right up to me and said, “How can you be here, laughing and enjoying yourself, when my brother is lying in the hospital?”

I was speechless. Others tried to defend me, but I really felt that he was right. Why wasn’t I at the hospital, caring for my friends? I had single-handedly made the whole traumatic event all about me. I’d like to say that I rushed back and did what was right, but I didn’t. First off, I couldn’t drive, having lost my license for a time. Also, I let my well-meaning defenders talk me into to continuing my own recovery. Perhaps they were right, but I believe that the whole ordeal began to shape me a little on the inside.

One final thought from high school. I began preaching more; I even made a tape for my grandmother. I fancied myself an upcoming Billy Graham. I was asked to preach in a number of churches, and I was supported by my home church, Edgewood Baptist. They even issued me a license to preach. Back then, such a document was official and authorized you to do whatever ministers do. You could marry people (I did one, but it later failed.), bury people and visit the Intensive Care ward at the hospital.

My mother loved it. She told everybody that I was a reverend --- even addressed her letters to me at college as Rev. Steve Johnson. And so I went off to Chicago, Illinois, armed with my credentials and a determination to change the world for Jesus.