Seeking God:

My Life through the Years

(Part No. 1)

Age 15 to 16

Friends, I realize that this sort of article is not something that many of you will be attracted to or desire, yet it is something that does cover my life—and for that reason, it must be significant to me. I realize that some (or even many) of you would like to know about my past thus I venture to describe this in several installments. It may be that I’ve covered parts of this in the past but let me lay it out again in a different way.

We must begin when I was fifteen years of age. Of course, I could start earlier but this will be good for our needs.  I was a somewhat conservative young man, quite conscientious and shy, who sought God and wanted to please Him. At first, I must admit that I didn’t know much about the content of the Bible for I seemed to be more interested in by collie dog “Pal,” collecting arrowheads, walking in the woods nearby, watching some TV, building models, and the like. But this was soon to change.

I suppose that it was in January that I returned home from the Lutheran Church (as well as Sunday School), and thought that I would turn on the television to see what was available. I knew that Billy Graham might be on the screen, or possibly the Charismatic Oral Roberts, or some other personality. Instead, I saw two men sitting at a table with a blackboard behind them on which they would make notations (in those days preachers would use a “blackboard” instead of a white board).

Every Sunday after that momentous first one I would rush home, turn on the TV, and seek to watch as much of the Bible program as I could. The program was entitled, “Know Your Bible,” as I recall. One speaker was Pat Gibbons and the other was Frank Higginbotham. The former was from Stubenville, Ohio, and the second was from Weirton, West Virginia. (I lived in Western Pennsylvania.) This went on for weeks and the weeks extended into months. I recall that I wrote to this pair of preachers since I was concerned about the Law of Moses and the Sabbath. I think that they adequately answered my inquiry on their program.

That summer I became sixteen and knew that I needed to do something about my relationship with God. I was becoming more and more convicted of sin.  I don’t refer to what society calls sin (such as robbing banks, smoking and drinking, using fowl language, lying, and the like), but the ordinary sin that God condemns but which society accepts. Someone called this “the muddy road to hell” and “the paved road to hell.” I was on the latter.

On one occasion, I went to the bathroom and sprinkled water on my head, then repeated the baptismal formula of Matthew 28:19 in private. At that time I didn’t know that baptism was actually an immersion in water, thus I assumed that merely sprinkling water was sufficient. I think that I did know that it was of a penitent believer but without someone to baptize me, what was I to do?

I also recall going to the basement late at night and retrieving bread and fermented grape juice, then attempted to have the “Lord’s supper” on my knees in that location. I ceased to call the preacher “the pastor” since I learned that early Christians didn’t use “pastor” in this way. At church, I tried to practice other parts of worship. I ceased to sing with the organ or piano.

Also, on one occasion I asked a friend to accompany me as I bicycled to another town then back out of the town to locate someone to immerse me. However, the poor man I met knew nothing about my request. Alas, we went back to Ellwood city—dry! Also, I began to burn and otherwise destroy my possessions in an effort to “love not the world” of 1 John 2:15-17. (This became a favorite passage of mine. It also opened the door to a massive memory effort.) Step by step, I sought to believe and practice what I was reading in Scripture. But still I was unsatisfied—as you might imagine.

That summer, I spent much time in my room, with the door closed. I read little tracts that I ordered by mail. They came into the house over the months and eventually I read the whole series, some 43 of the booklets. Also, I began reading my Bible in earnest. I knew nothing about translations at this time, thus I simply used the King James Version that I was acquainted with and that I had been given as a gift earlier.

Finally, I could bear it no more. I concluded that I was lost and needed to be saved. Thus, I wrote a sincere letter to the preachers at this location and explained my dilemma. What should I do? Where should I go? How was I to solve this utterly serious issue?

Unexpectedly, one Thursday at home I received a phone call. This was quite unusual and I don’t remember that I had ever received such a communication even though I was sixteen at the time. This was August 23 and the summer vacation was nearly over. (In those days, we would get out of school about May 31 and went back to school about the beginning of September.) One of the preachers was calling said that they had come to town and were now in Ellwood City. One had come from Ohio and the other from West Virginia, as I earlier explained. Although I knew that this was highly irregular, I arranged to meet this pair in front of the local elementary school and I immediately left the house and ran to this location where I was to meet the preachers. I must say that I probably left with my dear mother wondering what was happening to her oldest son!

I got into the back seat of their car and they asked what they could do to help me. Of course, I said that I needed to be baptized (immersed) since I had only been poured as an infant in the Lutheran Church. Therefore, they left for the woods/park where there was a hill that descended down to the stream. I had often used this in walking to the river. There one of the preachers went with me down the hill where I was immersed after confessing Jesus as Lord. After waiting for months, I was filled with gratitude to God for His provision and for the salvation that He had provided through Christ (so I thought). After the baptism, I again re-entered their car and they dropped me off a block away from my house. They went their way and left be alone—with my thoughts, my memory, and a questionable future before me!

I went inside and changed my clothes (for I had been soaking wet because of the baptism). That night Dad and Mother arrived to my bedroom and I then explained what I had done. Parts of this are lost in my memory but I do remember that Dad became angry and Mother felt rejected (I suppose) and began to cry. In the midst of this emotional experience, there was much distress, much confusion, but also much relief and joy in having finally believed that my sins were forgiven. This began an entirely new and different chapter of my life, which I must continue at my next installment.