1977 was a very pivotal year. I graduated from Kent State University the year before and was almost immediately employed at National Family Opinion as a sub-programmer. I should have been on top of the world with 2 bachelors degrees in four years, a decent car, and I was out on my own with a good job. But I was alone and miserable. I was drinking and doing drugs (mostly marijuana) on the weekends and sometimes during the week.
I met this girl in the appartment complex we lived in, but she wouldn’t go out with me unless we went to church. Church wasn’t my thing. I was raised a catholic, but I only went to church for weddings and funerals. I went to a catholic grade school and a catholic high school, but only attended mass when required. At home mom had given up on making us go. So when Betty suggested I go, it was a no.
One Saturday night in September 1977 I was out drinking at a bar in Maumee with my cousin and some friends. As there was no action there, I decided to go to a place up in Michigan. I couldn’t get any one else to go so I went by myself. I knew a girl who worked there. After having closed the place down I headed back to my apartment which was a couple of miles away. I fell asleep and went through a ditch and ended up in a corn field. Almost immediately three cars stopped and help push my car back on the road. I don’t remember that or getting home.
Once I got back to my apartment I realized that I was bleeding from the back of my head. I had hit my review mirror and removed it. I couldn’t tell how bad it was since it was on the back of my head. I went to Betty’s apartment at three in the morning to see if she could tell me how bad it was.
Betty was not happy to be wakened at that time in the morning. She wanted to know what I wanted. “Can you tell me how bad the wound is on the back of my head is”. She wanted to know why I was asking (bothering) her. I said that I remember her saying that she worked at one of the local hospitals. She replied “Yes, as a SECRETARY”. With that she explained that I should go to the hospital and ask them. Knowing I was drunk and didn’t want to try to explain why I was driving around in that condition, I stated that I couldn’t. She told me she would check on me the next day and if I needed a hearse, she would call one. With that she closed the door. I imagine, but can’t remember for sure, but I think more correctly she slammed the door shut.
The next day I woke up and took stock. My head hurt, from the alcohol and the blow I had taken the night before. My car had corn shocks hanging from it, and I had managed to ding up all sides including the front bumper and grill. I looked like it was still drive-able. At least I would be able to get to work on Monday. It was a nice looking car. No more. It was only two years old when I had bought it a month or so earlier. It was and still is the newest car I would ever own. Now it just looked sad.
In the early afternoon Betty and Debbie Jo stopped by to see if I needed an hearse. Upon finding me alive, they wanted to know if I was willing now to go to church. In response to the negative she wanted to know, “What does God got to do to get your attention”? That bother me. I did not take God into account as I lived my life, but I believe He existed. I just didn’t think He cared. As I am so much greater than an ant and wouldn’t care if I stepped on one or not, God was so much greater than me and wouldn’t care if He stepped on me or not.
I finally agreed. After all there was two beautiful girls who wanted me to go with them although it was to church. And I had a whole week to figure out how to get out of it if I decided to not to go. Betty was quite happy and said, “Oh good, I’ll be by at seven. I said, “What today? Who goes to church on a Sunday evening?” Her reply was “We do, see you than”.
So I went to a church called “The Cathedral of Praise” nearby on McGregor lane. She warned me on the way that the music was different than in a catholic church. And it was. It was lively and loud compared to what I was used to. The whole service was different than what I was used to. On the way home I was very quiet. It was too much to process. After several attempts to get me to give an opinion, in frustration to say something and remembering the three piece suits worn by the pastor, and comment on it being a church for rich people. In my studies in college I remembered some comments about the catholic church collecting tithes from the poor, yet the riches that were in the Vatican. She said “Oh well we can go to my poor church”. Again I thought I had until Sunday to figure a way to get out of going so I agreed. She said “Good I will see you at seven on Wednesday”. Who has church on a Wednesday? And of course the answer was “We do”.
So I went with her to a small store front church on the East Side of Toledo. From were I came from, there was nothing to ever go to the East Side for. You avoided it. She told me on the way to expect more lively music and they may ask me if I had a testimony. I ask what was that. She said that it was something that God has done for me. I said that God hasn’t done anything for me. She said that I should just say no. I told her not to get me involved in anything. She said it would be OK, that these were good people. Beside there wouldn’t be that many people there.
We go there just on time and she marched me up the the third pew from the front. There was nobody in any of the first several pews. The music began the the song leader sang with a lot of energy. After about a half an hour or forty five minutes she stopped and started to talk about somebody there who had did what he knew to do for God as a child but had walked away. As she continued I looked around and realized that nobody there knew me except Betty. And I never had any conversations with her about what was being said. I knew it was about me, though I was never pointed out. When I realized that nobody could have told her about what she was saying I began to shake. I shook so hard that the whole pew began to shake. Betty told me later she was shaking because I was shaking the pew.
The song leader handed the service to the Overseer. The Overseer looked over at me and asked if I had a testimony. Being prepared I was supposed to say no. but two things happened that I cannot give adequate explanation for. I notice that I was standing up. I did not think about standing. I do not remember standing. I notice that I was higher up than sitting, that I was standing. As surprising as that was, the next was even more surprising. I heard the words “I want Jesus” come out of my mouth. I never formed them. They could have just as easily come from another source, but they didn’t. They came from me. I don’t know how. But when I heard the words, I agreed in my heart. I did want Jesus.
Well the whole church began praying. The assistant pastor came up to me to ask if I wanted to go to the altar. As having been a catholic, the only time we went to the altar was for communion, and it seemed a funny time for that. So I said no.
This, the first Wednesday in September in 1977 was the beginning of wonderful life with Christ!