My Personal Test of God
Continuing the exploration into the question about how one can test God's faithfulness, which I started with this outline and continued with an introduction to three Old Testament patriarchs, I'd now like to share my own story. I hope my testimony will shed a little light on this subject, especially the first part of the discussion concerning belief in God as a prerequisite for testing. Once again, here's the outline of the series:
- Belief in God is a prerequisite for testing
- Studying God where He exists is a means to testing
- Aligning oneself with God's purpose is paramount
- Don't forget to check for results
Image from Pixabay.
How I Lost Faith Before I Ever Knew It
I grew up in a religious but dysfunctional family. My father was a working man, a stereotypical white all-American blue-collar worker. If you were alive in the 1970s, you'll remember that there were a lot of societal changes taking place at once. Women were beginning to come into their own, in the workplace and in society. African-Americans were acquiring wealth while Affirmative Action presented them with more opportunities in the workplace and through education. And the homosexual revolution was at its beginning as the "coming out of the closet" trend began to take root while same-sex relations were celebrated through pop culture icons such as The Village People. More than once I heard my father declare, "The only person being discriminated against is the white man." Sometimes it took up an extra adjective: "... the straight white man."
Of course, it's not true. There was certainly a backlash against the traditional power structure as minority groups pushed against the grain, but the white man was not the only victim of discrimination--then or now--and when he was, that discrimination was nowhere near as destructive as it often was going the opposite direction. My father couldn't see that.
That doesn't so much have anything to do with my story of faith as to provide a useful backdrop to the story. During childhood, there were certain pivotal moments that defined who I would become and that ultimately led to my rejection of religion. I'll recount some of those below:
- My parents found religion - In first grade, some friends invited my younger sister and me to Vacation Bible School (VBS). I don't remember much about it other than doing a few crafts and listening to Bible stories. When we returned home at the end of the last day, my parents asked us if we had fun. Of course, what 4 and 6 year old wouldn't? But the next thing out of their mouths was startling. "Good, because on Sunday you'll be going to church with us." That was startling because my parents weren't churchgoers. As it turned out, they had grown up in a Pentecostal-Holiness environment (both of my grandfathers were preachers in that movement) but were not active. Our taking an interest in VBS prompted them to return to their roots, and thus began my journey with faith.
- 10 years old - My 10th year was pivotal in a number of ways. My father was a preacher in a small church plant outside of Abilene, Texas. He ended up doing something that got him removed from the pulpit and my family moved to Dallas where my maternal grandfather by adoption (and great uncle by blood relations) pastored a church. My father also injured his back that year and spent some time in the hospital. He would eventually re-enter the workforce, but the injury had a lasting impact on him in a number of ways. My mother had to go to work to support the family, and she took her first job. At the time, I was unaware of the impact that would have on my father, but I believe (looking back) that it was a blow to his pride, which led, from that moment on, to many of the struggles in our family. Mom went on to have a stellar career as an insurance policy writer (I am very proud of her). I was also identified by teachers in my new school that year as a "talented and gifted student," which meant I began an advanced academic track that allowed me to develop my intellect, logical reasoning skills, and creative imagination in ways that a typical education, and my family, would not have afforded me.
- From bad to worse - My father grew increasingly angry, toxic even. He became emotionally and verbally abusive toward my mother, my two younger sisters, and me. His expectations of me as the oldest child and only son were unrealistic. He was a hard, and harsh, man. And an inconsistent disciplinarian. (On the flip side, he instilled in me a strong work ethic.) There were times when I found my father's emotional state to be indiscernible. It seemed that he hated me. At 14, after an angry spat with my mother, he plopped down in his easy chair in the family room and began to sulk. I walked in and stared at him, unsure what to make of this belligerent and toxic man who was my father. He told me then that he was thinking of divorcing my mother and asked me what I thought of that. I didn't answer, but I remember thinking at the time that I wish it would happen. It never did. My father was irrational, bitter, and out of control. While he was never physically abusive, I was afraid of him.
By the age of 16, I was ready to get out of the house. I almost did leave home once. What kept me from doing it was the fact that I was an honor student and knew that pissing away a high school education would ruin my life. I was patient and waited it out. Going into my senior year of high school, I joined the Army under the Delayed Entry Program, which meant that I'd enter basic training upon graduating high school. I could have probably found an academic scholarship, but I had no one counseling me in that direction. My parents, both high school drop outs, knew nothing about such matters, and I was a quiet kid--having increasingly retreated into books over the years--so I flew under the radar of many of my teachers and school counselors. The Army was my ticket to freedom. When I left home, I left it all behind--family, religion, anything that had an influence on me. I rejected it all.
The Conversion of A Young Agnostic
Had you asked me my thoughts on religion during the earliest years of adulthood, I'd have likely shrugged my shoulder and said, "It's not important." I literally never gave it a thought. As it turned out, no one ever asked me that question.
I served my three years in the Army earning money for college through the Veterans Education Administration Program (VEAP). After doing my service, I moved back to Dallas and attended a local junior college before transferring to the University of Texas at Dallas for my major. I had no interest in Christianity. In fact, I spent much of my time studying other religions and philosophies.
For three or four years, I got into the secular philosophers that one typically studies in college (Nietzsche, Sartre, Kant, Hegel, etc.). I was particularly drawn to Nietszche for some reason, and Camus. I also got into esoteric philosophies and some Eastern studies. I read some of the Vedas, the Mahābhārata, Alan Watts, and various texts from the Eastern religions. Some of it appealed to me and some of it didn't. I was particularly intrigued by some of the Zen writings I got into and the esoteric philosophers. At one point, I even began to systematize my own thoughts into a religious system, but that project was derailed when I met God.
While sitting in a philosophy class lecture one day with over a hundred other students in which the instructor was mocking televangelists like Robert Tilton (not unjustifiably, as the year was 1992 and Tilton's television ministry at the time was the fastest growing in the U.S.), one of the students interrupted the professor to ask, "Why do people believe all of that?"
The professor stopped his lecture and asked her to clarify. She wasn't so much honed in on Tilton, who I consider to this day to be a phony, as she was on the Christian faith. She wanted to know why people bought into the story line of Jesus. Interestingly, with over a hundred students in class that day (in Dallas, Texas, the buckle of the Bible belt), no one stood up to defend Jesus. It was not a question I had considered, but I wondered why we'd be discussing it in a college philosophy class. The thought popped into my head to yell out, "Because they're intelligent!" I squelched it. Later, I'd realize that was the voice of the Holy Spirit I was ignoring.
I would not have considered myself a Christian, and if you'd asked, I'd have likely changed the subject. It was not something that I was interested in. In fact, I was doing my best not to think about it. The sad part is, it was not the Christians who challenged me to think about it. Rather, it was the atheists. After that day in class, it was all I could think about.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to reject it. I didn't want to believe it. In my mind, religion was the source of all my pain. My father had instilled his anger into me without my realizing it. As a result, I rejected God, religion, family, marriage, anything that might remind me of what I was doing my best to forget. Financial struggles caused me to drop college when my education money ran out at the end of my junior year. I found it difficult to balance work and school. Ultimately, work won out.
I hit a road block. My life wasn't going the way I had planned it. It wasn't much of a plan, but it wasn't going well. One day, while alone in my North Dallas apartment, confused and broken, emotionally wrecked, spiritually bankrupt, and bitter about my life, I challenged God to show me a sign. "If you're real," I said, "show me."
I was not expecting a response. I had no reason to expect one. But no sooner had those words flown from my mouth, there I was, on my back, arms outstretched to heaven, and with tears streaming down my face, I began to speak in another language. Glossolalia.
Growing up, it was a phenomenon that people around me called "speaking in tongues." In the Holiness tradition, it was something that happened to believers after coming to faith in Christ. It's often called "baptism of the Holy Spirit" or a "third work of grace." Some traditions refer to it as a "second work of grace." Whatever the case, it was something that was supposed to happen to believers, but I was not a believer. What then could account for my speaking a language I had never learned?
1 Corinthians 14:22 says tongues are a sign for unbelievers. I would certainly consider myself at that time to have been an unbeliever, and I'd have considered myself then, if you had asked, to be an unbeliever. Everything about me was moving in the direction of unbelief. I did all I could not to believe, and was very much committed to that position. But I asked for a sign.
I would argue that my asking for the sign was a test of God's faithfulness. He could have sent any number of different kinds of signs, but what sign could He have sent that could only have been from Him? While on my back, speaking in tongues, praising God also in my native language, clapping hands, acting in a way that I'd have considered at the time to be most irrational, the thought running through my rational mind was, "Why am I doing this? Why am I acting like this? What is happening to me?"
Picture it. A bitter young man, into studying philosophy, literature, everything except Christianity, suddenly, out of the blue, asks God for a sign of His reality. God pours Himself on the unbeliever causing him to respond with praises to the Almighty against his own will but while maintaining control of his rational mind. To this day, I can't explain it, but I know that God, at that moment in time, took over my life, revealed Himself to me, and from that day forward I began to change how I thought, how I acted, and what I would become.
Many More Tests To Come
The year was 1992. I've been a believer now for 27 years. It hasn't been a cake walk.
Almost immediately, I began to study the Bible. A young couple showed up at my door one day and invited me to their church. They were starting a new church that was meeting at a hotel just around the corner from where I lived. This happened within a week of my conversion experience. I went to their church.
A young couple and a friend of theirs, about my age, showed up one Sunday to worship. It wasn't long after I started attending. We became friends. Soon after, they left the church and went to another one. I stopped by their house one day and they told me why they left. The preacher had told the woman she could not wear make up. That didn't sit well. In Christian parlance, we call that "legalism)." My friends told me one thing that made a huge impression. They said that while they were going to go to another church, "if you feel like God is leading you to that church, then you should stay there." Honestly, I didn't know where God was leading me.
A week or so later, while singing hymns, the preacher said to his congregation, "Saints, pray in tongues." And they did.
What kind of crap is this? I thought. They all began to speak in a glossolalia meant to separate the "true saints" from the unbelievers. That wasn't right, and I sensed it. That was my last service at that church. I went to visit my new friends and told them what happened. They invited me to their church, and I went along. I decided later that their church wasn't for me either, so I started looking for another church, and found one. I'd eventually lead Bible studies and small groups, praise and worship services, and more, as I learned and grew in God's grace.
Being a Christian is not a cake walk. There are many challenges. Not all of them come from unbelievers, or strangers. I don't believe everyone has to have an experience like mine when they come to faith in Christ. God reaches different people in different ways. He reaches people in a way that is right for them, but He always reaches the people He intends to reach at a time which He intends to reach them. And He allows His children to test Him. It's one of the ways He strengthens our faith. I would test God's faithfulness in other ways over the years.
How My Conversion Experience Tested God's Faithfulness
One might think my story is one about testing God's existence. Perhaps it is, on the surface. But at a deeper level, it has implications for testing God's faithfulness.
Romans 10:13 says "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." On a certain day, at a certain time, in a certain state of mind, I called out to the Lord and asked Him to reveal Himself to me. God is always faithful to His promises.
John 3:16 is a favorite Bible verse for many Christians all over the world. It says:
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that everyone who believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.
I came to believe because God revealed Himself to me. He showed me the sign that I needed to see, but He did so on the basis of His promise that all who call upon him will be saved. I called. He saved me. Little was I aware of it, but the seed to call out to God on that day in my angry life was planted in my heart and mind over the course of time while hearing the many sermons preached to me as a child. Romans 10:14 says:
How then can they call on the One in whom they have not believed? And how can they believe in the One of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone to preach?
What I did my best to reject, God used to draw me to Himself. The grace of God is a mystery. Its inner workings can't be detected, determined, or understood by the mind of man. It cannot be reverse-engineered. Yet, it has the power to draw men out of their self-imposed mental funk and make them new creatures, make them men mindful of the presence of God and the truth of God. It did that for me, and I am eternally glad.
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