Friday morning, August 8th, 2010.
I’m taking a brief nap on the couch in the living room. It is so quiet you could have heard a mouse pass gas if one had been nearby and had passed gas.
Suddenly, the door bell rang and Jenny came charging from wherever she had been at the moment of bell ringing. I got up slowly and walked to the front door. When I opened it and talked Jenny into backing off a few feet and toning down her attack attitude just a smidge, there was this guy with dark sunglasses on standing there.
He began his little practiced speech. Said he was the Pastor of The Northern Kentucky Baptist Church and he was going around our neighborhood inviting everyone to come visit their church. As I stated, I had been taking a nap and the old brain doesn’t recover as quickly as it once did. I noticed nothing unusual about his statement at that time. He asked if I had a home church. I assured him that I did. I told him the name of my church and where it was located and at the same time told him that I had been a born again believer for going on 27 years now.
He must have been satisfied with my explanation, for I sensed that he was just about to turn and leave. That’s when I asked him exactly where his church was located. As soon as he began to answer my question, the truth of it all hit me like a sledgehammer. I do believe this was my first experience at being God-Smacked.
I know, God Smacked is the name of a band or some such other group of entertainers, but to me, it felt as if God Himself had laid the back of His hand to my cheek.
I mentally supposed that this Man of God must have thought that I was having a senior moment because I paused and was thoughtfully distracted for such a long span of time. I had a few things I needed to share with him, so I invited him to enter our home and sit for spell. He declined my invitation explaining that his time was short and he needed to keep moving.
So, I stepped out onto our front stoop, reached out my hand and he politely shook it. Then I began to explain how I was guided to God’s house that fateful, chilly spring morning over 27 years ago. I just showed up, at his church, on the very first Sunday that any official meeting had been held in the newly completed building. It was my one and only visit there. I had gone with one purpose in mind and that was to offer up to God, what remained of my life, if He had any need of it. It was His, to be used as He saw fit if He would only accept my full confession of guilt and forgive me of my previous 43 years of sinful living.
The full, lengthy, complete story can be read HERE. It will take some time to peruse if you so choose. I hope you will.
I could tell, the man was as shocked as I was that God had brought us face to face after all those years had passed. He suggested that the least I could do is come by some time and share my story with the congregation. I may just do that.
Sounds Like Summer
2 weeks ago