The road of my faith has been long and often stormy. I divided the journey into two parts: the early and the latter. Today, I offer the first part of that trip.  

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“Mom, do I have to go to church?” My stomach tensed at having asked the question. Church services were a staple in our household, and my parents expected it, though they didn’t command it. Mom would be easier than Dad. To broach the subject took a lot of nerve, but from her scowling expression, I wished I hadn’t. 

“What’s the matter, Michael? Are you sick?” 

“No, I’m fine.” I didn’t look her in the eye as my stomach gurgled. I wanted to run. 

“Why don’t you want to go?”

I didn’t want to tell her I hated church. “Never mind.” I returned to my room. My brother wasn’t there, so I lay on the bed and stared out the window. 

Church was stupid, and the Bible was a bunch of stories. The only reason I went was because of my youth group friends. But Mom’s reaction quashed my resistance. 

Well then, I’d continue attending the Sunday and midweek services, carry my Bible, and always smile at the pastor’s sermons. But how long could I keep up the pretense? 

Billy Graham visited the Omaha Ak-Sar-Ben in 1964, and folks in our church wanted to go to his crusade. It was an outing on a school night (yea), and lots of people in our area were excited to attend. Several cars traveled in a caravan.

The songs were pleasant, and one speaker was humorous. I smiled at his jokes. When Mr. Graham took the podium, my discomfort bubbled to the surface. I don’t remember his illustration, but his point was clear: man was sinful and no one could get to heaven on their own. Only by Jesus’ sacrifice could anyone receive salvation. 

The choir sang Just As I Am, and he gave the invitation. I struggled against the urge to go forward. If someone had asked, I’d have gone down the aisle just to make them happy. But I didn’t leave my seat as my internal tug-o-war raged.

While traveling home, I learned that others had gone forward. Would I be damned for refusing? I hoped my discomfort would go away, and it eventually did. 

After graduation, I went off to the state university and immediately stopped attending church. I used my free time to sleep, play chess, and play cards with the guys. God was far from my thoughts. 

The following year, I switched to a cheaper college in Kansas and got a short-term job loading turkeys on a truck. Working on a dairy farm was my next job, which was more permanent. It didn’t take long to learn the family was serious about their Christian faith. They appreciated my choice to not smoke, drink, or cuss, and I politely declined their invitations to attend church. 

I seldom finished my farm tasks until after dark, and the family invited me to stay for supper. We developed a close bond while talking afterward and I felt as if they’d adopted me. 

I met a girl at school, and after a couple of years, it looked as if we’d become Mr. and Mrs. She didn’t and broke off our relationship. The separation tore me up. 

Though I was doing okay in school, my studies were tough. I failed a couple of tests and received a warning on a project. Guys in the dormitory pestered me with gags, snide comments, and practical jokes, which cut deep. My anger was never far from the surface and I’d become a boiling pot, ready to erupt. I was close to a breakdown.

Clashes with others revealed my sour attitude, and someone said I should get counseling. Nope. I could handle things and take care of myself, which I quickly learned wasn’t true. My male ego feared the stigma of losing control. My internal turmoil was ready to explode, and I wanted to put a hole through the door and re-arrange my roommate’s teeth.

My emotions churned, and I was losing the war to maintain control. Where could I get help? It was Sunday and the counseling establishments were closed. I didn’t know any preacher, and my dorm buddies were part of the problem. 

I called the farm family, and the wife met me at their door. “What’s the problem, Michael?” 

I unloaded my problems and vented for an hour.

She listened as I spewed out my anger. When I took a breath, she asked, “What did you expect from me?”

“I dunno. I just need to get it all out. That’s all.”

“What about tomorrow? Your problems will still be there.” 

That brought me up short. Talking with her didn’t solve my difficulties, and nothing would change.

“Michael, are you a Christian?” 

My comfort level immediately disappeared. “I went to church as a boy. I don’t smoke, drink, or chew, and I don’t go with girls who do. I’m a good person.” 

She smiled. “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian. Just like living in a garage doesn’t make you a car. I ask again, are you a true Christian?” 

I didn’t like where she was taking the conversation. “No, I’m not,” I said to get her to back off.

“If you could wave a magic wand, what would you wish would happen?” 

“All my problems would go away.” 

“Seek first the Kingdom of God and all these things will be given to you.” 

This verse pushed my uneasiness off the chart. I’d read it but didn’t know where to find it in the Bible.

“Michael, you have to come to God, and he can help with your troubles. I can’t help you. He can.” She paused for a moment. “Hold on a moment. I’ll be right back.”  

She left me sitting with my confused and untidy thoughts. After returning with a Bible, she began reading from the New Testament. As she read the verses, I had a torrent of evil thoughts. Mentally, I swore, cussed, and wished evil on that Bible. Never had I had such fiendish thoughts, and I wanted to flee. I struggled to sit calmly as my mind whirled. 

She read more passages and their focus was that men were sinners, including me. God required punishment for my sins and I could accept Christ’s sacrifice as payment for them or receive his judgment.  

She read another verse. “I stand at the door knocking. If anyone hears my voice and opens it, I will enter and eat with him.” This verse was an invitation to ask Christ to enter my life. 

My uneasiness spilled over and I cried like never before.

She was patient and didn’t criticize. When I calmed down, she asked. “Will you accept Christ?” 

My resistance and pride were gone, and I said yes. For the first time, I talked to God like he was in the room. Contentment settled over me. Though my problems remained, I knew he would help me.

My troubles didn’t melt away immediately, but I found answers in amazing ways. Everything was the same, yet everything felt different. I talked to God throughout the day and it seemed natural. 

I received Christ’s salvation on Sunday. On Tuesday, I met people who introduced me to mission work, and on Friday I had my first date with the girl who is now my wife.

God works in amazing ways.