MY SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH

Several months ago I was writing about my spiritual journey in life and mentioned an incident that changed my life dramatically. I said at the time that if I reported it, it would be the “blog of all blogs.” Well, at the encouragement of a reader, and I hope inspiration from God, I am ready to write about it.

Actually, in thinking and praying about it, I’ve decided to divide it into at least three parts: 1) my search for the truth, 2) my encounter, and 3) the aftermath. Today I will begin at the beginning and see how far I get.

As most of you know, I was raised in a Christian home. Even though my parents went to two different churches and were never able to solve their differences in beliefs, we girls were “brought up in the church.” Unless we were sick, or out of town, we never missed going to Sunday school and church on Sunday mornings. Additionally, we attended vacation Bible school in the summers and any other special events held. Although we mostly went to and ultimately joined Mother’s church, we had plenty of occasions to attend Daddy’s church, as well. And we felt comfortable in both because we had friends at our church and many relatives at Daddy’s.

There came a time, and I’m not sure at what age, when I began to seek God on my own apart from my parents. I had a few meaningful moments as a child and in my early teens, but one significant event stands out. When I was fourteen, Billy Graham came to town and held a series of services in Vanderbilt football stadium. Interestingly enough, the ministers of both Daddy’s and Mother’s churches were opposed to his coming to Nashville. Our minister actually preached against it and tried to discourage us from hearing him because he was “too emotional” and whatever experience we had from it would be temporary.

But Mother and we girls went anyway to at least two meetings and maybe more. The one that I recall was “Youth Night,” and what I remember the most was that at the end of the sermon, I felt an unmistakable need, almost a compulsion, to “answer the call.” So even though it was very difficult, I went down those steps and prayed with the thousands of other teens who had also come forth.

At the time I was not at all sure what I had done; to my knowledge I had never been presented with “the plan of salvation through Jesus’ sacrifice” before. Certainly, our church leaders didn’t teach it and Daddy’s touched on it but added other things to it. Consequently, it may appear at first that the incident didn’t have much meaning, especially in view of my subsequent behavior for years afterward.

But I never forgot that feeling that “Something or Someone” outside of myself was trying to influence me that night.

To be continued . . .