Losing My Religion Read Online Free Page B
Author: William Lobdell
God?
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. I was at the edge of a cliff, weighing whether to jump. I wanted to take the plunge, but I didn’t want to be looked at as a freak. I didn’t know how I’d explain my conversion to my atheist friends. I didn’t want to imagine how I would change once Jesus truly became the centerpiece of my life. Would I be wearing a rainbow wig and handlebar mustache inside a football stadium, waving a “John 3:16” sign at the television camera? Would I be compelled to walk away from material pleasures and devote my life to helping the poor? I didn’t want to find out.
Barris was very good at his job. Not in any rush, he said he still felt there were others in the chapel who wanted to become Christians today. He’d wait a few more minutes, in case anyone else wanted to raise his hand. Was he talking to me, I wondered? Or was it God who was speaking? My pulse actually slowed as, at last, I obeyed. My arm seemed to float up on its own until it was over my head.
Barris asked those of us who raised our hands to repeat the sinner’s prayer. I don’t remember the exact words, but it went something like this:
Father, I’m a sinner, and I want to repent. I believe that your son, Jesus Christ, died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Jesus into my heart to become my personal Lord and Savior, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus’s name I pray, Amen.
When I repeated the line “I invite Jesus into my heart,” I experienced what I can only call a vision. Time slowed. In my mind’s eye, my heart opened into halves, and a warm, glowing light flowed right in. As my heart melted back together, it remained illuminated with a soft light from the inside. I felt instantly the light was Jesus, who now lived inside me. A tingling warmth spread across my chest. This, I thought—no, I knew —was what it meant to be born-again.
I opened my tear-filled eyes and was quickly surrounded by my new brothers in Christ, men who had been strangers less than 48 hours before. They slapped me on the back, hugged me and shook my hand. They congratulated me on making the best decision of my life, one that would have eternal consequences. As happy as they were for me, I was even happier for myself—I now had Jesus in my heart.
An hour later, Hugh and I were driving down the mountain. I was still trying to sort out what had happened.
“What made you publicly decide to accept Jesus today?” Hugh asked.
“It was the weirdest thing, Hugh,” I said, as I steered the car along the road carved into the mountain wall. “I think I had a mystical experience up there.”
I told him about my vision. Hugh, born and raised in Ohio, is a guy with Midwestern sensibilities who became a Presbyterian because it was the church in which he was least likely to be hugged. He’s an analytical thinker who keeps his emotions tightly under wraps. Yet in a voyeuristic way, Hugh was fascinated by what had happened to me, and he didn’t doubt for a minute that it was true.
“Did you see Jesus?”
I explained about the vision and warm light.
“Did you feel His presence?”
I told him about the tingling.
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, still trying to figure it out. “I’m a little stunned, I guess. Excited. Anxious. I don’t know how this all will play out.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “God will show you the way.”
THREE
A God Thing
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
— HEBREWS 11:1
D RIVING DOWN THE mountain, Hugh and I made a pact to meet each Monday at dawn to run along Newport Beach’s Back Bay, a 752-acre saltwater estuary in the heart of Orange County. The oasis of open space serves as the community’s Central Park, a
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. I was at the edge of a cliff, weighing whether to jump. I wanted to take the plunge, but I didn’t want to be looked at as a freak. I didn’t know how I’d explain my conversion to my atheist friends. I didn’t want to imagine how I would change once Jesus truly became the centerpiece of my life. Would I be wearing a rainbow wig and handlebar mustache inside a football stadium, waving a “John 3:16” sign at the television camera? Would I be compelled to walk away from material pleasures and devote my life to helping the poor? I didn’t want to find out.
Barris was very good at his job. Not in any rush, he said he still felt there were others in the chapel who wanted to become Christians today. He’d wait a few more minutes, in case anyone else wanted to raise his hand. Was he talking to me, I wondered? Or was it God who was speaking? My pulse actually slowed as, at last, I obeyed. My arm seemed to float up on its own until it was over my head.
Barris asked those of us who raised our hands to repeat the sinner’s prayer. I don’t remember the exact words, but it went something like this:
Father, I’m a sinner, and I want to repent. I believe that your son, Jesus Christ, died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Jesus into my heart to become my personal Lord and Savior, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus’s name I pray, Amen.
When I repeated the line “I invite Jesus into my heart,” I experienced what I can only call a vision. Time slowed. In my mind’s eye, my heart opened into halves, and a warm, glowing light flowed right in. As my heart melted back together, it remained illuminated with a soft light from the inside. I felt instantly the light was Jesus, who now lived inside me. A tingling warmth spread across my chest. This, I thought—no, I knew —was what it meant to be born-again.
I opened my tear-filled eyes and was quickly surrounded by my new brothers in Christ, men who had been strangers less than 48 hours before. They slapped me on the back, hugged me and shook my hand. They congratulated me on making the best decision of my life, one that would have eternal consequences. As happy as they were for me, I was even happier for myself—I now had Jesus in my heart.
An hour later, Hugh and I were driving down the mountain. I was still trying to sort out what had happened.
“What made you publicly decide to accept Jesus today?” Hugh asked.
“It was the weirdest thing, Hugh,” I said, as I steered the car along the road carved into the mountain wall. “I think I had a mystical experience up there.”
I told him about my vision. Hugh, born and raised in Ohio, is a guy with Midwestern sensibilities who became a Presbyterian because it was the church in which he was least likely to be hugged. He’s an analytical thinker who keeps his emotions tightly under wraps. Yet in a voyeuristic way, Hugh was fascinated by what had happened to me, and he didn’t doubt for a minute that it was true.
“Did you see Jesus?”
I explained about the vision and warm light.
“Did you feel His presence?”
I told him about the tingling.
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, still trying to figure it out. “I’m a little stunned, I guess. Excited. Anxious. I don’t know how this all will play out.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “God will show you the way.”
THREE
A God Thing
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
— HEBREWS 11:1
D RIVING DOWN THE mountain, Hugh and I made a pact to meet each Monday at dawn to run along Newport Beach’s Back Bay, a 752-acre saltwater estuary in the heart of Orange County. The oasis of open space serves as the community’s Central Park, a
Readers choose
David Hagberg
Sarah Daltry
David Guterson
Barbara Parker
Ashleigh Raine
Unknown
Helena Hunting
C. R. Daems
Beth Pattillo
Elizabeth Thornton