Because I was a young boy with very little understanding at all what it meant to follow Jesus, I did not see a drastic change of heart or felt any different. Heck, I was only 11 and therefore hadn't lived long enough to experience my very "sinful" nature! I believed that he was dwelling in me just like he said he would (Romans 8:8-10). Since I was taught that the only thing I needed to do was recognize my sin and ask God for forgiveness, I never really gave it much thought.
Until I was about 14.
My family lived in Topeka, Kansas almost all of my life. I was born in Wichita, Kansas but moved here when my dad got a new job when I was maybe 14 months old. Topeka was all I knew and, whether it was because I--along with my older brother and younger sister--were so close in age that we didn't travel well together or because my folks just didn't like to travel at all, we never saw much of anything other than the state capitol.
On this particular day, however, my mom loaded all of us kids into the car and headed to Kansas City where we were to pick up my dad from a business trip. Even though it was probably only about an hour and 30 minutes to KCI, it felt like an eternity to a car full of preteens. It didn't help either that my mom got lost--twice--on the way there. She tried taking us to St. Louis, Missouri but realized her mistake shortly after taking the wrong exit. I calmly guided her back onto the highway and instructed her how to get back on the highway to try again. Then, she missed the airport exit and we were heading toward North Kansas City. My mom loves this part of the story because she said that I was her "angel" keeping her calm during a most stressful time, and it's the part of the story I most often forget to include.
You see, my part of the story hadn't happened yet.
We arrived at the terminal where my dad's plane would be taxied to. Even as I write this, I recall this being my first time at the airport. My brother and I were so amped up to get out of the car that, once the car stopped, we unbuckled our seat belts and literally jumped out of our seat! My older brother and I, only separated in age by a year and 7 months, was extremely competitive growing up. I looked at the terminal from across the parking lot and looked at him.
"Race ya," I said, excited.
"You're on!" he answered back, and sprinted toward the gate to the lot from where we came.
In the split second he started running, I saw a grassy hill beyond a concrete wall across the parking lot that would be an excellent short cut. "If I get enough speed and plant my foot on the top of that wall and jump down to the hill, I could beat him."
This is the part of the story that makes my mom a bit weak in the knees.
I didn't have much time to waste, so I start running toward the wall. My arms are pumping, my legs are flying and I'm tasting victory--which later on realize is just sweat from my forehead. I couldn't wait to rub it in my brother's face that he never noticed the short cut, declaring me the winner! He wasn't going to be able to boss me around after this!
And before I knew it, I wasn't running anymore. I was stopped dead in my tracks. I did not understand what was happening! I was going to lose!!
I stood there, all alone, for what seemed like forever. In reality, maybe only 20 to 30 seconds had passed. Not only were my legs no longer carrying me in a full sprint, my mind started to shift from "I'm going to lose" to "why aren't I running?" Very quickly I realized that something very strange was happening. I felt the inclination to see what was beyond the wall.
Slowly, very cautiously, I approached the concrete hurdle. Each step making me more and more nervous. I began to sweat again, but now out of curiosity and fear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my brother running through the gate and onto the road that circles in front of the terminal. By this time, I don't care about losing. I needed to know why I had stopped running.
I got to the wall and peered over. My brain had a hard time processing it at first. But once it did, my knees buckled and I sat against the wall, visibly shaking.
I was staring down at least a 3- or 4-story drop, with a concrete patio connecting a walkway to the parking garage below us. My mom had parked on the top level. Because I had never been to the airport before, I thought it was just a parking lot. Every other time we've ever parked the car was in a parking lot. It was in that moment that I knew what, or rather who, stopped me.
The Holy Spirit, God Himself, stopped my legs that day to save me from what I believe was certain death. There is no other explanation that you could offer me that I would possibly believe. My heart was intent on winning the race. My legs were pointed toward that wall, in a full sprint, completely prepared to vault off the top of the wall onto the grassy hill. I could visualize it all. Nothing except God could possibly have stopped me.
As I was contemplating my "near-death experience," my little sister came up behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. I couldn't speak yet. All I could do was push myself up, bracing my body against hers for stability in case my knees gave way again. My voice cracked and barely audible, I managed "I was going to jump over that wall."
Readers, if you are not a believer in God, a personal God who cares about a relationship with you enough to send His only Son to die in your place so that you may one day see Him sitting on His throne for eternity, I tell you this story that you might know that YES, in fact He does! And fellow brothers and sisters, I am not at all suggesting that if you never have a moment like this than you are not a true Christian. I am simply sharing my story.
A story that doesn't end here. A story that doesn't end until I'm in heaven with my Creator.
(artwork "Saul's Conversion" by Michael Mize)
No comments:
Post a Comment