“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he
is a new creation;
old things have passed away; behold, all things have
become new."
2 Corinthians 5:17
Forty years. Forty incredible
years. The year 1983, for me, slowly evolved into a very good year. A life changing year. A year that altered my dreams, my destiny, my desires, and my devotion. It was
the year that I would meet a beautiful young lady who would gently, yet firmly,
share the truth of Jesus Christ with me. It was the year that I would hear her witness and eventually pray for God's grace to be real in my own despicable life. Forty years. Forty incredible years of walking with Jesus. Forty years...
In June of 1983, I had no idea that I would soon be a student at Mississippi State University
To be perfectly honest, I do not have any recall as to the reaction of
my family. They knew the circumstances, and I'm sure their hearts were broken
over my foolish choices and decisions. But it was the spring of the year, an
extremely busy season in the Mississippi Delta, and I resumed my position on
the farm. I began to work again for my two uncles, which I had been doing since
I was about age twelve. Returning home and working didn't solve my problems,
however, as they just intensified with a steady paycheck. Now I had those
finances that at one time hindered me from fulfilling much of my wicked
desires. With money in my pockets, I could expand my horizons when it came to
searching for new adventures, usually entailing wild parties, loud music, ample
liquor, illegal drugs, and plenty of loose women. It was also amazing how many
friends I amassed with my ability of foot the bill. Like the prodigal in Luke
15, I hand plenty of friends, as long as I had plenty of money.
It seems that with each decision that I would make, circumstances did
not get any better, they only got worse. Uncomfortable encounters with family,
as well as with the law, would cause me to make promises that I could not keep.
The book of Proverbs says, "As a dog returns to his own vomit, so a fool
returns to his folly." My life was a perfect example of that eternal truth.
In the first few weeks of 1983, I befriended a man several years older than I,
and he quickly introduced me to new companions that carried me deeper into the
darkness. There were times when we struck out on the trail for new experiences
with the wrong crowd, that would have me absent from my family and from my job
for days at a time. Funny how working with family always keeps the door of
employment open for you, when you really should have been fired. Some of these
adventures I can barely remember. I vaguely recall where we planned to go, but
I cannot recollect if we ever made it to our destination, what happened while
we were there, and how we made it back home. Life during that time was like a
dense fog, and how I lived through it is a testimony of God's incredible mercy.
June 1983, as far as I can remember, is when my precious Mom finally
had enough of me and my ways. I had broken her heart too many times. She
confronted me in the garage with anger, fear, love and rage all mixed together.
With her hands on my shoulders, she shook me as best she could, crying and
saying, "I don't know where you'll go and what you'll do, but you've got
six weeks to get out of my house! I can't take this anymore!" I looked at
her beautiful face, all red with emotion and covered in tears, jerked her hands
off of me, and walked inside. To be totally honest, I wanted to hit her. As I
pondered this encounter, I knew I had to make plans, but I couldn't think of
anything. I didn't know it then, but Mom was practicing tough love on me before
James Dobson ever wrote a book about it.
Before the dust settled from this episode, I came home from work one day
to find out that a dear friend from high school was going to be home for a few
days from Mississippi State and she wanted to see me. Lisa had done quite well
at MSU. Good grades, really popular, school beauty, Homecoming Queen, etc., and
this girl wanted to see me while she was home. I got ready as fast as possible
and drove at breakneck speed to Scott , Mississippi
In the midst of those few visits with Lisa, she talked at length about
me trying to get back in school and making a fresh start at MSU. Since I had
the ultimatum from my Mom, with a time frame of getting out of her house, I
decided to take Lisa's advice and call the number that she gave me about
transferring to State. The lady on the phone had a nice voice and was very
kind. When I told her the reason for my call, she informed me that I had just
missed the deadline for applying as a transfer student. My heart sank, but then
she said, "I tell you what, I will mail you an application today, but
promise me to fill it out and mail it back the same day that you receive it.
That means that you need to secure a copy of your transcript from your previous
college, so that you can be ready to send it back to me on the very same day.
You promise me that you'll do this?" I assured her that I would, and she
bid me a pleasant farewell. When I got off the phone, I immediately began to
wonder what kind of response she would have to my transcript. I thought surely
she would burst out laughing and show everyone in the office what kind of idiot
I was for trying to enroll at MSU. But since I promised her I would do it, I
thought, oh well, it won't hurt anything to try.
July 1983. To my utter amazement, I received a positive letter from MSU
not long after I mailed the requested material to the Office of Enrollment. I
had failed to meet the deadline, my transcript was atrocious, and yet I was
reading an acceptance letter that opened with this word in all caps:
CONGRATULATIONS! As I continued reading, my heart sank. Yes, I had been
accepted, but it was on a probationary status, and only about twelve hours of
course work would be accepted. Plus, all of the advanced credit for the core freshman courses were deemed unacceptable. As I read the letter, I thought,
"Well this is just dandy, I'm 21 years old and will have to sit in
classrooms alongside immature teenagers with zits and fake ID's." But at
least I had the problem solved as to where I'd go, and what I'd be doing, even
before my Mom's tearful deadline had come to pass.
August 1983 was moving time. I was fortunate to be able to secure a
room at Arbor Acres Apartments, a university owned housing complex on the south
edge of campus. Friends from the Delta had their names on a waiting list to get
into this brand-new facility, and they had enough space for me to join them.
Life was good as I tried to adjust to my new surroundings. I was living with
old friends, learning the layout of campus, and beginning to understand that
there were some extremely popular establishments near Mayhew and Columbus that
existed to make sure college students had enjoyable experiences outside of
their educational demands.
During the second week of classes, my roommate asked me if I had
purchased the necessary books for each of my courses. "No," I
responded, "I really haven't thought much about that." He encouraged
me to get some books, so that if I decided to attend a class, at least I would look
like I belonged in the building. When I finally located a list of all the books
that I needed, he said that he would go with me to the bookstore to help me
gather all my supplies. The place wasn't very crowded, since most of the other
students had already gotten what they needed. When I mentioned that I didn't
know where anything was located, he asked for my list, and told me to stay
where I was until he found everything for me. He quickly disappeared, and I as
I turned around to see what else might be interesting to find, my eyes landed
on the most beautiful young lady that I had ever seen. She was tall, trim, tan,
and TERRIFIC! You've heard of love at first sight? Well, it was something like
that, but rather than love, it was lust at first sight! Holding a book just a
few feet from me, her eyes were looking at a list somewhat like mine, then
glancing at a shelf filled with additional material. I walked up to her with a
smile and said, "Hey there, can I help you find anything?" Believing
that I was one of the student workers, she responded, "Yes, I've already
gotten most of my books, but I came back for just a couple more and can't seem
to find this one," as she handed me her booklist. Not having any idea how
I might help this beauty, my friend returned with his arms loaded down with
what I needed. "Hey, thank you, perfect timing." I said. "Now I
need you to find this book for this young lady." When he returned with her
book, we headed to the register, where I stood behind her and recorded her name
and phone number as she completed her transaction with a personal check. Sort
of creepy? Yes, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do!
Needless to say, she was somewhat surprised when I called her later that
day. We agreed to meet at a high school football game the following evening, as
I learned that she had just graduated from a local private school, and she
already had plans to attend the game. The next week, we saw each other on
campus quite often, and I decided that starting anew at MSU as a Freshman
wasn't all that bad. We didn't have any classes together, but we were often in
the same buildings, and could enjoy brief conversations in the hallways or
outside near the entrances.
I tried my best to get her to enjoy the dark side of life, but that was
to no avail, as she had her guard up against my kind of pleasures. I would back
off for a while, and we would simply take in an occasional movie, have a milkshake
date, ride around in my sports car, or attend a MSU football game. A few weeks
into our relationship, I pulled up outside of a very nice duplex in a quiet,
older neighborhood in Starkville
"Do you really want to know?" she finally said.
"Yes, certainly, I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know." I
replied.
"Well, for one, I despise your smoking cigarettes. They make your
car stink, and they make you stink. They make my clothes stink, they make my
hair stink, they make me stink, and I don't like to stink."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, every time that I'm around you, you are drinking some kind of
alcoholic beverage. You keep whiskey under the seat, or you have a small cooler
of beer with you in your car all the time. At your apartment, that's all you ever
have to drink. And even on campus, as you walk around with that stadium cup
going to class, I know that you've got some kind of alcohol in there. Drinking
is all you do, and I don't like it."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, your language is atrocious. I have never heard someone with
such a vile tongue. If you get mad, it is unbelievable what comes out of your
mouth. But even in normal conversations, you use filthy curse words. It's
horrible, and I can't stand it."
By now, my feelings were quite bruised, but what could I say, it was all
true. "Anything else?" I mumbled.
"Yes," she said. "I am very tired of the constant
pressure you put on me to go to nightclubs, pool halls, and these off campus
parties that you always seem to know about. I don't like those kinds of places,
I'm not comfortable in those environments, I don't want to go, and I don't want
to be pressured to go. In fact, I refuse to go, and if you and I are going to
continue to have any kind of relationship, on or off campus, then you need to
go to places that I like to go!"
"Okay, so where do you like to go?"
"I like to go to church."
With that response, I felt like reaching over, opening the door, putting
her out, and saying, "See you later." But there was something about
her beautiful smile, those big, brown eyes, and that silky, shiny, dark hair.
This awesome young lady was slowly melting my calloused heart. Pulling away
from the curb, I asked, "Uh, where do you go to church?"
"Friendship Baptist Church
"So you're a Baptist? That's wonderful! So am I!" I exclaimed.
She didn't seem to be very impressed at my compelling statement of religious
identity. I'm sure that she realized there's a huge difference between being a
saved Baptist, and a lost one.
The time frame is a little foggy after this encounter. I continued to
speak to this young lady on campus whenever I saw her, but I was uncertain of
my next move. I realized that I wasn't going to convince her to embrace my
lifestyle, yet I was helplessly drawn to her honesty, sincerity, and to her
breathtaking beauty. She was so different from the party girls that I was
accustomed to spending time with. They were usually loud, crude, foul-mouthed,
and aggressively seductive, especially when they were all overly intoxicated.
Even as I attempted to immerse myself in my usual routines when the sun went
down, I could not help but think of her, and what she might be doing. I was
still drinking heavily, swearing profusely, smoking constantly, partying
nightly, and fighting occasionally, whenever I felt my manhood was clearly
challenged. My schedule was full, but my heart was empty.
I finally decided that I should approach her about coming out for a
Sunday service. I'd been to church services before, many of them. I had joined
the Baptist church in my Delta hometown when I was ten years old. Church
activity and attendance had at one time been a very important part of my young
life. Besides, I had even prayed publicly to close out our services on several
occasions. Sometimes I'd still be drunk from the previous night's party, or
about to vomit with an intense hangover, but I could offer a few religious
words with the best of any hypocrite. She told me what time to arrive to pick
her up, that I was welcome to come to her home after the service for Sunday
dinner, and we could spend the afternoon together. It sounded appealing, but I
didn't make an immediate commitment to join her. Thinking about her invitation
brought a few thoughts into my mind. One, she is knock-out gorgeous every time
that I see her, but I felt that she would really set a high standard for a
church service. Two, a home-cooked meal for a guy in college would be
priceless. And three, if I didn't come out to sit with her through the service,
some other dude might get the privilege. Well, those thoughts sealed the deal,
and I told her that I'd come on out and go to church with her.
The little building had a nice crowd of people when we arrived. We took
a seat almost at the very back. I didn't bring a Bible, I didn't help them
sing, and I sure didn't bring money for an offering. My goal was to endure the
service, enjoy the lunch, establish a better relationship with this young lady,
if at all possible, and get back to Starkville
What I did not know, however, was that in that little building on that
particular Sunday morning, God was going to call my name. Her pastor did not
know anything about me, yet as he preached with passion and zeal, he made a
statement that shook me deep on the inside. It was as if there was no one else
in the building, and that he was speaking directly to me. At some point in the
midst of his sermon, he said rather authoritatively, "It makes no
difference how good your mother is, if you die without Jesus, you'll be in Hell
forever!" Judging his delivery as far as being seeker sensitive was
concerned, it was awful. In today's world, it would make the snowflakes need
coloring books, smiley stickers, and a few puppies to pet in a designated safe
space. But judging his statement based upon what I needed to hear that day, he
hit a grand slam! My Mom's prayers, I believe, had secured a wall of protection
around me as I lived such a self-centered and foolish life. Some of my friends
lived the same kind of lifestyle, and it took them to an early grave. In
drunken stupors, I had bragged how that my Mom was praying for me, and that God
would not allow anything to happen to me that would break her heart. To me,
this was just a way to validate my destructive habits with a false sense of
security. But now this preacher man had just nailed my sorry hide to the wall.
I could not escape this sobering experience. I didn't say anything to
anyone, but my heart was deeply touched, and my mind was securely engaged to
consider eternal thoughts. The following week was filled with a thorough
self-inspection and spiritual evaluation. I was thinking about what my life had
become, compared to the loving expectation of those who watched me grow up in
my tiny hometown. I began to consider all of the biblical truth that I had
learned as a child at the Duncan Baptist Church Vacation Bible School
Walking to and fro on campus was an unbelievable experience of God
consciousness. As I spoke pleasant greetings with other students, faculty and
staff, it seemed as if everyone responded, "You must be born again."
Sitting in class and preparing to write notes, I experienced the same
phenomenon. It seemed as if all my professors were writing on their white
boards, or their overhead projectors: "You must be born again." I
know this was not being said or written, but this is what I heard and saw.
God's Spirit had me in a corner, and He would not allow me to escape. During
this time, I lost my taste for alcohol, parties didn't appeal to me, and going
out to night clubs was pointless. I didn't know it then, but this is what's
called Holy Spirit conviction: To wrestle with God over His supreme right to
control your life; to be allowed the privilege of having blinded eyes partially
opened to His glorious light; and to have deaf ears beginning to hear His voice
calling you from spiritual death to everlasting life. It is one of the most
troubling encounters you will ever have, and one of the most wonderful. I've
heard people say, "Well, I've never experienced anything like that. Holy
Spirit conviction? My soul, I don't have the foggiest notion what you're
talking about!" My only reply can be, "I'm so sorry, it's a terrible
tragedy to be spiritually dead, and not even know it." You see, beloved
friend, the only way that you can be converted, is to first be convicted. No conviction?
No conversion!
I knew that it was time to be totally transparent with my beautiful
young friend. She invited me to come have supper with her at her sister's house
not too far from Starkville
"What's the matter? Are you okay? What's going on?" she asked.
"I'm lost! I'm lost!" I cried, "If I died tonight, I'd go
straight to Hell!"
"But you told me you were saved, that you were a Baptist," she
responded.
"I lied! I lied! It's all been a lie!" I said, continuing to
weep.
When my eyes first saw this young lady, and my heart was filled with
lust, I approached her with the calm confidence that she would be my next
"trophy" to conquer. Little did I know that just a few weeks later,
I'd be confessing my sin to her, crying profusely like a baby, as she held me
in her arms and whispered over and over again into my ear, "Jesus, Jesus,
Jesus!" I spent several hours in that home as she told me how I could be
saved. I tried to refute everything she told me as I recounted my sordid, pathetic
life, and declared that God couldn't love someone like me, because of my open,
rebellious, sinful lifestyle. Every excuse I offered; she had a counteroffer:
Jesus! On two or three occasions, I would go out to my car to leave, then she
would begin to cry and say, "Please don't go until you get saved."
Her tears would bring me back inside, where she would again whisper His name,
and share with me Bible verses concerning forgiveness of sin and the promise of
salvation.
It was nearly two in the morning when I finally told her that I had to
go. This episode was surely keeping her sister's family up, and for the first
time I thought about a young lady with honor and chivalry. The guys in my
apartment knew that I was going to see my special friend, and I did not wish to
mar her pure image by dragging home in the wee hours of the morning like an old
tom cat. She held me at the door, saying again, "Please trust Jesus!"
"I will; I will. I promise you that I'll settle this when I get
back to my apartment."
With that statement, I climbed into my little sports car and headed back
to Starkville
With those two encounters, the tears flooded my eyes again. Wiping the
tears away, I felt my car leave the security of the pavement as I veered off to
the right side of the road. Terrified, I jerked the car back on the highway,
and thought about what those pine and hardwood trees would do to me should I
hit them. And again, that voice, "Now, now, you're alright. Everything is
going to be fine. Quit worrying. Calm down. You're okay." Hearing these
words, I immediately began to relax. This had been quite a roller coaster of an
evening for me. I realized that I had gone five days without a drink, and my
emotions were shot. We sometimes didn't have enough food in our apartment, but
we always had an abundance of liquor. I just need a good, stiff drink, then a
cold beer, or two, out on the back porch. Such thoughts filled me with
confidence, especially when I looked up and could see the streetlights of Starkville
Then it happened. As I approached the sign designating the city limits
of Starkville
Now I'm meeting a mail truck at the city limits of Starkville
This time, however, it was different. Wiping the tears, trying to catch
my breath and get my emotions in check, it happened. Before I could even
contemplate what the voice was telling me, I felt it. I was safely in Starkville Starkville
I was too scared to turn around and look, so I just cried out, "Oh,
please, help me, help me!" My heart pounded and the tears flowed all the
way across town until I pulled into the parking lot of Arbor Acres. No one was
in sight, I found a parking spot, got out as fast as possible, and refused to
look back toward the rear of my car. Walking towards our apartment, all I could
think about was that I've got to talk to God. Everyone was asleep when I
arrived, so I quietly slipped up to my room and into my bed, heart still
pounding, tears still flowing, body still shaking. The window to my room was
just above my head, and a security light outside provided a soft glow to my
room. Lying motionless, still under deep conviction, and thinking about all of
the activities of the previous hours, I finally whispered a prayer, "Dear
God, please don't let me die and go to Hell. Please, Jesus, I know that You
died for me, and if You'll save me, I won't have to go to Hell. Please, Jesus,
please save me. I'll do what You want me to do, I'll go where You want me to
go, and I'll say what You want me to say. Please don't let me go to Hell,
please save me."
As those words left my lips and approached the throne room of Heaven,
God did a work of amazing grace in my life. No fireworks went off that night in
my room, no flashes of lightening nor peels of thunder, and there were no
visiting angels coming up and down a shining ladder thrust through that little
window. Something more spectacular, however, took place. The Spirit of Christ
stepped out of Heaven and into my heart, cleansing me of my sin, transforming
me, and giving me new, abundant, and eternal life!
As Friday dawned, I decided to skip my eight
o'clock class so that I could be waiting on my lovely friend to
arrive at nine o'clock in Carpenter Hall.
I remember sitting on the big concrete steps awaiting her arrival, and how I
felt when I finally saw her walking across the Drill Field. Something was much
different now. She was still so knock-out gorgeous, but this time my heart was
filled with something other than lust. Looking at her as she got closer, I
sensed the voice of God speaking to me, "Son, you're going to marry that
girl." Coming up close to me she didn't even ask if I had prayed to be
saved (she later said that it was quite evident on my face). As our eyes
locked, I said, "I believe God just spoke to me."
"Really?" she replied, "What did He say?"
"He said that I'm going to marry you!"
"Well, He hasn't told me that," was her less than enthusiastic
reply, as we walked into the building and up to her classroom.
Forty years. Forty incredible
years. You might be wondering: "What happened to that young lady? The one that
you dreamed of spending a few nights with - what happened to her?" Well,
we exchanged vows and rings the following year as we stood before a
congregation of witnesses in our wedding ceremony at Friendship Baptist Church
These past forty years have not been
perfect, because we live in a fallen, sin-cursed world. And it's not been
perfect because I still must renounce the demands of my Adamic flesh, take up
my cross daily, and follow Jesus. I have often disappointed Tammy, Apryl,
Laurie, Micah and Eli, as well as many other folks that we have known over the
years. Yet through it all, God has been so good to me! Surrendering to preach
His word a few years after my conversion, it has been almost like a fairy tale
of activity. The places to which I have traveled, the people that I have met,
and the precious opportunities that have been given to me to exalt Christ are,
at times, difficult to describe. How could a boy from Duncan , Mississippi Africa , Europe , Asia , Central and South America , as well as all across the United States
Forty years. Forty incredible years. To God be the glory - Amen!
