The time was 1984 and I was on top of the world, hair bands ruled and there wasn’t to much I would not do to be a rebel. My friends and I partied every weekend and hung out late every night because we were free as birds. No one had a hold on us and we run ramped through the neighborhood drinking and listening to songs we thought would never end because we would be the way we were forever. We had dreams of drag racers and rock bands, living on the beach and live everyday like our hero’s because life as a teenager was going to be there as long as we had dreams. My mother had me going to church with her on Sunday’s, and every Sunday the same argument broke out of why I had to go to church and listen to the same blah, blah, blah, and why I could not sleep in till about noon because I had been out all night, “you know living like a rock star”. She would always win the argument because my hangovers forbid me to carry out extensive arguments.
the funny thing was that once I started attending regularly it was not as bad as I made it out to be, which mean I was home at a better hour on Saturday nights, and in turn cut back on my party’s. I surprised my mom one Thursday evening when I told her some people from church were picking me up for youth night at church. I kinda had second thoughts about going that night because a few friends were getting together down by the lake and it sounded like a great time, but I had already agreed to going with the people and that I would be ready for church when they came by. So Thursday night arrived and I had finished getting ready for church as the Sunday school teacher and her family pulled into the drive. My mom gave me words of encouragement as I was walking out “you better behave yourself!”. Everyone greeted me as I climbed into the car, and away we went. I don’t mind saying I was a little nervous because generally when I was away from home it was doing something totally wrong, but this time it seemed to feel like a good nervousness.
We arrived at the church and heads turned as I entered the front door, some were happy to see me there on a weekday and others I think did not know what to think. Soon the preacher came up to deliver his sermon and man did he cut loose. He talked of God sending his son to die for us and how we take every day for granted that God owes it to us, but eventually the day would come that we would meet him face to face to give a vivid account of our lives. At that moment I started to look back on my life and the things I had already done, and found me examining my actions, wondering what reason I could give to this God guy for the parties and the lying in order to stay out all night. I suddenly found myself worrying about facing God, and for what ever reason I was feeling pretty bad about the things I had done. The preacher finished after a few more minutes, and gave an altar call. I had no idea what he was talking about when he said that he would like to invite anyone to come and know God. I sit in the seat as some went up to the altar and knelt and started praying. The music started as one of the girls stood on the stage and sung a song, Beulah Land I think it was.
As I watched all the kids go up and kneel next to each other, some started to pray and some started to cry and smile at the same time, and I could not help thinking, what am I missing here? As the singing was going on I started to feel like maybe I was suppose to be up at the altar for some strange reason, about that time the Sunday School teacher walked up to me with a bit of tears in her eyes, looked at me and said, “you want to go up and pray don’t you?’, without hesitation I replied, yes. So we both walked up and knelt down at the altar and immediately I closed my eyes and visions of my friends and family started appearing in my head. Before I knew it I was crying and asking God to please forgive me of the wrong things I had been doing in my life. I must have stayed at that altar praying for over an hour, it seemed I was being purged of every wrong thing I had ever done. The people I use to make fun of because of their beliefs and their actions, had stayed there beside me the whole time praying and letting me know that God was listening to me. When I stood up from that altar on that fall night in 1984 I know beyond any shadow of doubt that I just had a talk with the Son of God and that God had heard me and forgave me. I still talk with God, everyday. But I know that the night I knelt at that altar and accepted Christ as my Savior that I was as close to God as I will ever be in my life.That night I started believing in God and even through the years, I can honestly say through the good times and the bad that he has always been there. This is not only my story, but my testimony as well. Your never taller in your life, than when on your knees with God.