As a boy, I spent some time in church with my grandmother. Once or twice I even went forward during an invitation, but was never counseled or presented with the Gospel. On another occasion, a neighbor actually led me in a “sinner’s prayer”. I always felt conviction, but I really didn’t understand how it all worked. I suppose I always believed there was a God, but I did not know Him personally until April 1, 1990 at age 26. It would be a full year later, however, before I would come to fully understand the concept of grace.
Growing up without my father, I had no particular direction in life. I became self-sufficient, calloused and insecure. My insecurity manifested itself in pride and I became something of a loner. I didn’t have many friends and mostly floated through life like a cork on the ocean. I was ready to settle down by the time that I met the woman who would eventually become my wife. Her name was Stephanie. Stephanie’s father, Henry Hill, was a gentle loving man who showed me how a godly man lives his daily life. Henry worked hard, loved and spiritually led his family, respected his wife and so on. Things I hadn’t seen much of up close. While Henry Hill was not perfect, he modeled for me the qualities, demeanor and integrity that I had longed to possess but had come to believe neither existed in men nor could be attained. In short, I saw his life as a reflection of Jesus Christ. I wanted to be like Henry, a real citizen. I wanted the things he had, not just the material things, but especially the spiritual things. I occasionally went to church with him and his family, but before long I was asking a lot of questions and seriously searching for answers. I started attending church regularly and found it comforting.
After five years of dating, Stephanie and I decided to wed. Within a couple of years of marriage, my searching for God reached a crossroads when I felt a profound sense of separation from God and wanted to turn my life over to Him. I decided to join the church we were attending and to get baptized, though at the time, I thought I was merely “rededicating” my life. Still, I did not fully understand the concept of grace. Although I had met with the pastor a couple of times, read some books and tried to pray, I still didn’t “feel” saved. We tried Sunday school, different churches, etc. Nothing seemed to give me peace. Then, one day I attended a business presentation by the noted speaker, Zig Ziglar. During the break, I went forward to meet him and to ask for his autograph. Below his signature he wrote, “Eph 2:8-9.”
For weeks, I wondered what this could mean. Was it a phone number, a license plate, what? On a flight from Houston to Tampa, while reading a book about the Holy Spirit that had been given to me by an uncle, I noticed that there were many Bible references seemingly written in the same type of “code” used by Mr. Ziglar. It occurred to me that the message he had written me must be a Bible verse. When I got to my hotel room I located and pulled out the Gideon Bible and looked up the verse. I read it several times, but it wasn’t making any sense. Finally I remembered from somewhere that the Holy Spirit would help you understand the Bible if you asked, so I prayed. I read the verse again, and after awhile it finally sunk in. By grace I had been saved through faith, and it wasn’t something I could work for or make happen, it was the gift of God, not of works lest I could boast about my contribution to it.
Everything became clear in that moment. It was about 10:30 PM on April 6, 1991. In tears of joy and relief, I slipped off the bed and onto my knees in that hotel room and, just to be sure, I prayed one last time to receive Jesus Christ into my heart. This time I knew what I was doing and I meant it. I knew I was a sinner and that I couldn’t save myself. I knew that all my trying to do well and all my church attendance didn’t mean anything. I’d simply have to trust in Christ and in God’s Word. There wasn’t anything I could add to what Jesus had already done for me.
