Three Different Roads to Salvation
People, places and things greatly affect each seeker’s journey.
My wife never left the road.
Three of us found much different paths to our salvation. Her pastor baptized my wife, Sheri, as an infant at First United Methodist Church in Marion, where the entire family had attended for nearly four generations. Sheri grew up in the church, but one summer her heart “was strangely warmed” during church camp at Epworth Forest in North Webster. Since that life-changing experience, she has lived a good Christian life and has never seriously questioned her salvation.
My friend’s neighbors got him headed down the right road.
A decade or so ago, I remember talking with a newfound friend at our church. During our conversation we realized both of us had attended Indiana University from 1968–72. We didn’t know each other in college, but I discovered the two of us had gone down much different spiritual paths.
Michael shared with me that his parents had divorced when he was eight years old. When he was 12, he decided to move in with his dad and stepmother. He described that time as very difficult because he didn’t get along very well with his stepmother. Nevertheless, when she became a Christian later in life they became good friends.
During those years with his dad, some of Michael’s neighbors took him to church. One summer during junior high, he went to Quaker Haven Camp, near North Webster, and accepted Jesus. “I knew something changed inside me, but I didn’t grow spiritually during those years,” Michael said.
A college friend became Michael’s his spiritual tour guide.
“As a freshman at IU, I realized that first week I needed help,” Michael recalled. “I was shy with limited social skills and felt very alone. My dreams were quickly vanishing, but I did not want to go home.”
Fortunately, Tom, another student, shared with Michael the Bible verse Matthew 6:33.“But seek first His kingdom and righteousness and all these things shall be yours as well”.
“It was like a life preserver,” Michael said. “I grabbed ahold and told God I would do my best to always put Him first in my life.”
Since Tom was involved with the Navigators, a Christian non-denomination ministry which is still active on college campuses today. This ministry helps young men and women learn about Christ and learn how to share his ‘Good News’ with others. Michael started growing spiritually through Bible studies, scripture memory, prayer, fellowship and worship, which are all part of the Navigators’ program.
“I accepted Jesus as my savior when I was in junior high, and then chose to make Him my Lord when I was a freshman in college,” Michael said. “Life still has temptations, oppositions and difficulties, but God has been faithful to His Word and His Spirit continues to help me live with Him daily.”
My road started off on the right track.
The early years of my spiritual journey were much like my wife’s path. My parents adopted me, took me to church as an infant and dedicated me at the First Baptist Church in Frankfort.
One Sunday while I was still a toddler, I wandered out of Miss Grace’s classroom and began exploring. A few minutes later I made an unexpected appearance on the platform where the baptistery is located. My parents were horrified when they looked up from their seats in the sanctuary and saw me headed toward the baptistery and its pool. My dad wasn’t exactly a track star, but others tell me he raced to my rescue and grabbed me just before I could tumble into the water.
When I was about five, we moved to Moran, a little town nestled in central Indiana farmland. We moved in right next door to the Methodist Church. My mom and dad became active in the church and we were there about every time the doors were open.
Despite all that time we spent in church, we never had prayer at our meals or said prayers before bedtime. In fact, I do not recall ever hearing either of my parents ever say a prayer. I’m not sure if we were really Christians or just pretenders at that point.
I attended Sunday school, participated in the children’s choir, attended Methodist Youth Fellowship (MYF), and Vacation Bible School (VBS).
My first road block occurred when my parents stopped attending church.
When a serious rumor began to swirl about inappropriate conduct by the pianist and the pastor, my parents decided they could no longer be part of such hypocrisy. Their decision to leave the church weighed heavily on my mind. We had always attended church as a family.
Now what?
Even though I was a timid 12-year old I got up the courage to ask the question.
If you’re not going to church, why do I have to go?
Their answer startled me. They were wonderful parents and nice people who everyone liked, but they could not have given a worse answer.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go!
My fear of the unknown led me on a dangerous detour.
Regrettably, a few Sundays later I had an experience in that small church that scared me so much that I ran away from God for the next 14 years. Back then, at the end of each worship service, the pastor would have an altar call. Each week several people went to the altar and committed their lives to Christ.
Most of my friends were still attending church with their families, but this particular Sunday I stood alone in the last row of pews when the final hymn began to play. As the song moved from one verse to the next I became very uneasy. I felt something I had never felt before. I had the urge to get out of my pew and run down the aisle, but I resisted. I gripped the pew in front of me harder and harder until my white knuckles nearly made a lasting impression on that wood. Finally, the song ended. No one went forward that day!
With my parents’ apparent blessing, I never attended that church again. Sadly, I do not remember anyone ever inviting me back! Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone I trusted to share what I had experienced in the pew that day and the fear it left in me. Many years later, I realized that it had been the Holy Spirit doing its work on my soul trying to pull me down the aisle to salvation that morning.
My road didn’t seem any bumpier than those roads on which my friends were traveling.
During the formative years of junior high and high school, I didn’t have the church or faith in God in my life. Nevertheless, I had the love of my parents, year around sports and friends to help fill in the gaps. I knew some of my friends attended church, but I didn’t notice anything different in the way they lived their lives than the way I lived mine. I wasn’t fortunate enough to have the summer camp awakening that Sheri and Michael had experienced.
My first semester at Indiana University was academically very successful. I was shy and had no social life. I had a single room, spent most of my time studying, and finished with a 3.2 GPA. Many afternoons I spent at the “Men’s Gym” in the HPER Building playing in pickup basketball games. During one of those sessions I met some guys with whom I immediately bonded. They invited me to a social gathering at their frat house. I had never intended to join a fraternity, but everyone was so friendly. I liked what I saw and I liked how I felt, so I decided to pledge and later became a member of Pi Kappa Phi.
I enjoyed fraternity life a little too much and my academic achievement took a nosedive. I lost a few battles with the Big Cat (malt liquor) and the Hairy Buffalo (large flower vase of any left-over liquor still around.) Many Friday nights found me passed out on the living room floor or worshipping the porcelain god. “Never again,” I thought. However, too many weekends played out the same way.
Marriage and my first career took me down a much different road.
After dating for five years, I married my high school sweetheart Cheryl during my senior year at IU. I graduated after the first summer session, finally passing a required swimming class that I skillfully avoided for four years. I surprised myself and did not drown!
I finally landed my first teaching job in mid-September at Waynetown Middle School, near Crawfordsville. I taught general science, social studies and physical education classes; coached football, basketball and track; and earned a whopping $7,200 that first year.
Cheryl had attended the First Presbyterian Church in Frankfort growing up. I remember in our premarital counseling session, Dr. Kipp telling us how important it was for us to be in church our first Sunday as a married couple. Unfortunately, we did not heed his advice. Church was not something we valued in our marriage. After our daughter, Beth, was born, we may have attended church on three or four occasions.
A failed marriage sent me spinning out of control.
We lived in five different places during our marriage, but the last place has the most vivid memories for me. Financial problems had forced Cheryl to take a job in Frankfort. She and our daughter lived there with my parents during the week while I still lived near Crawfordsville, where I taught and coached. After two more moves, we settled in Thorntown, where Cheryl started helping out at Stookey’s Restaurant.
I could feel that we had grown emotionally distant with each other, but the day Cheryl finally said, “Jerry, I just don’t love you anymore. I want a divorce,” nearly killed me.
I could not concentrate. Some days I would go to school and often times leave before the end of the day. I am so thankful for my principal’s understanding and the support of my close-knit teacher friends. Wes, Sue, Margie and Alisha helped me hang on by a thread.
Many days I would go to the liquor store, buy a six-pack and drive around until it was gone. I thank God that during that time of suffering, I didn’t kill myself or worse yet, run into someone else and kill them. My life had spun out of control.
A Bible and a desperate prayer got me back on the right road.
Providentially, one morning I was in the bedroom at the Thorntown house when I saw a Bible laying on the floor. I am not sure where it came from or why it was there. I had not opened it in years.
I remember kneeling down and placing my hand on the Bible. I said, “Jesus, if you are real please come into my life and save me from all of this!” It is so difficult to put into words, but I had a tingling in my body followed by an enormous sense of relief. I felt like the entire weight of the world had been suddenly lifted from my shoulders. I started that prayer in complete despair and finished it with the kind of joy I had never felt in my life.
I was 29 years old and I had finally come home!
The Lord charted a new course for my happiness and fulfillment.
The Lord didn’t repair my broken marriage, but He had a better plan. He brought Sheri and her family into my life. They welcomed me into their family and demonstrated what Christ’s love looks likes. Wow! Now, I had a wife, three brothers, and three sisters-in-law, with whom I have shared wonderful life experiences. Their habit of attending church every Sunday became my habit.
Sheri was radiant as she walked down the aisle of the same church where she had been baptized and had been confirmed growing up, to become my bride. I still remember Rev. Stephens’ wry smile when he looked my way during our premarital counseling and said, “You’re going to make it more than seven years this time aren’t you?”
Over the years, we have kept our vows, have attended three different United Methodist Churches, and have become actively involved in each of them. This year Sheri and I celebrated our 40th anniversary.
Praise by to God for He has the perfect plan for each of our lives!
