Having previously shared about meeting a Christian in high school, the summer after graduation became a time of searching. Searching for something-or someone-to live for. A purpose.
What I was searching for wasn’t in drugs, alcohol, or sex. The effects those things were having on participants-people I personally knew-was reason enough to avoid them, though all were available. Someone, somewhere, was surely praying for me.
One reason to avoid the drugs and alcohol was to be in the best physical condition possible, to live out my dream of being a major-league baseball player. My previous post stated that I didn’t make my high school baseball team because I was a senior, with no experience. Having no meaningful purpose in life, I held onto my dream. A dream that was soon to end.
Seeing a major-league tryout invitation in the paper, I responded by attending, along with dozens of others my age. Baseball is more than running (in which I did well), resulting in me failing the tryout. My dream was ended. Over. What now?
As it was an opportunity to share the love of God with me, I kept getting invited over to this family’s house, nearly every weekday throughout the summer. Despite the father later claiming that I was an atheist, I wasn’t. An atheist denies the existence of God, whereas I certainly believed in God, even to the point of serving as an acolyte for one year in the church I attended. I’m further proof that just going to church doesn’t make one a Christian. Religious? Perhaps. But a Christian? No.
June became July, turning into August, consisting of more visits, more questions about God and the Bible, arguing on my part, and a growing hunger for what this family had. Interestingly, not once did they invite me to church throughout June and July.
In either late July or early August, I was invited to come to this family’s church, to attend their evening service. I was attending morning services at a denominational church in a nearby city. Agreeing to attend, I prepared for Sunday evening, August 3, 1969.
Having never attended this kind of church, I had no idea what I was getting into. Join me as I come face to face with a group of people with something I didn’t have: love and peace. Not the love and peace being shouted and sung by my generation then. A different kind of love and peace, for sure.
Next: Part 4: New Dream. Enjoy this journey with me.
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