Long and Winding Road...

I cannot do a ‘short’ testimony – there is simply too much to cover for you to understand where I was, where I’ve been, where I am, and what God has done in my life. So if you wish to read on, please do – if not that’s OK too!
I was always (and still am, to an extent) afraid of people. When I was about a year old we moved to a smallish island in Alaska, just south of Kodiak Island, called Sitkinak. My father raised cattle and sheep, and we (Mom, Dad and my brother Tom) were the only human inhabitants. As far as I was concerned, the only other human in the world was the supply-plane pilot who came once a month or so. When we left the island and moved to Texas I was 4 years old, and had a deep distrust of all these “other” people who seemed to take away the time that my family used to spend entirely (so I thought) with me. Thus began my fear of people. I understand now that this fear was based completely on selfishness.
Things only became worse when I began attending school. I never “knew how to act” and so was quiet and reclusive. Kids being kids; my peers saw this as a weakness and used it in fairly hurtful manners which only acted to strengthen my fear and distrust of others. Even in Sunday school I was laughed at for each little gaffe and no one (even the teachers) took the time to actually guide me. (I never realized that mostly they were laughing WITH me – if I would just laugh with them – and that if I had asked they would have told me!) So my lonely life continued, and though I tried to fit in through my school years I really never did, and was endlessly uncomfortable.
Then, in 1972 when I had just turned 17, there was a revival at our football stadium – a week long affair that I attended nightly. On the third night – I remember Dale Evans (as in Roy Rogers) was the key-note speaker – and I was led to Jesus. What a glorious feeling! I remember tingling from head to toe and the tears would not stop. I had never felt so whole, so loved and so alive. (I also had never felt so ashamed when I saw myself as I was before that moment!!!)
But then the selfishness returned. I was so alive for many months – and the life I felt made me less afraid of people, which gave me a sense of freedom I was unaccustomed to. I prayed less and ‘socialized’ more. It became easier to make friends, and I craved friends. But I made the wrong kind of friends. By the time I was 19 I was doing drugs and drinking regularly – and I liked it! Of course, in my delusional state I justified everything. Some of you may recognize the old arguments: “God made marijuana grow…so indulge!” or “Jesus turned water into wine…so indulge!” all lies from Lucifer, but lies I wanted to hear.
In 1975, I had just turned 20; my best friend, Jim, and I were in my old ’59 ford. We had been smoking dope and drinking. I ran under the back of a parked flat-bed truck. Jim was killed. I killed him just as sure as if I had put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I couldn’t blame God, I couldn’t blame Satan; I only had myself to blame and I did – for the following 20 years. Those were definitely the ‘dark’ years. To ease my mental anguish there was no drug I wouldn’t do. Marijuana, cocaine, heroin, LSD, speed, downers, alcohol – the more the better. I’ll never know why, in all those years, I never killed anyone else or ended up in prison. (But for the grace of God!) Here’s the real kicker: During those years I kept attending church regularly! Drugs on Saturday, God on Sunday (followed by drugs)! I was never unemployed – after all – I was a drug ‘user’ not a drug ‘abuser’, I told myself. And if I ever got so loaded I couldn’t go to work the next day then I was ‘too’ loaded.
I was so, so lost.
Through it all, Jesus never once turned His back on me. I walked away from Him and He followed! Everywhere I went, Jesus was with me – I just ignored Him. In 1995 I moved my family to another town and the neighbors, Wayne and Jackie, from across the street dropped by for a visit. They were really nice folks and I told Wayne to “drop by for a beer one of these days”. He had kind of a sly grin and said, “Sure, I’ll drop by”. And he did – but not for a beer. As it turned out he was (still is!) the pastor of one of the local churches. Brother Wayne helped me to see what I had become, helped me recognize the selfishness, and led me home again. I had never been baptized, and Brother Wayne did the honors on a December night in 1995. Praise the Lord I am still in Jesus hands!
Yes – “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” is my favorite! Should you be in doubt about the Lord as you have read this – PLEASE remember He will never, EVER leave you, and never, EVER quit loving you. Come home to Him – just as you are – come home to Him.