1979: A Personal Testimony

I stated in a past comment that my spiritual journey would probably make for some boring reading, and after reading Josh and Russ’ stories, I’m now certain of it. However, though my spiritual journey may not have taken me to a military academy or a war zone, I am certain that the drama in my own heart was intense. If both angels and demons were witness to my conversion, then perhaps the drama in that unseen world was even greater than I can know.

May of 1979 was quiet, but it was also the eve of transition and no one knew the extent of the changes that were coming. In less than a month, the “Conservative Resurgence” within the Southern Baptist Convention would be officially launched at their Annual Meeting held that year in Houston, TX. Adrian Rogers would be elected SBC president and nothing in Southern Baptist life would be the same again.

It was also the eve of the pop-rock resurgence. We were beginning to get our fill of disco, and before that summer would end, My Sharona, by “The Knack”, would end disco’s dominance at the top of the pop-music charts. The success of “The Knack” would be accompanied by several pop-rockers finding their way to the top of the
charts that year including “The Cars” and a resurgence of sorts by guys like Rod Stewart. If people rejected pop-rock, their only alternative in the next few years would be “new wave” or the arrival of pop-country thanks to the movie, Urban Cowboy. But for disco fans, it was pretty much over.

Things were about to change in Iran as well. As a result, we Americans were getting ready to spend a little more than a year having our six-o-clock news broadcast begin every evening with an update on the American hostage crisis in Iran. This crisis along with record leaps of inflation would decide the presidential election in 1980. But all these changes, though very close, hadn’t happened as of May. I was still listening to the Bee Gees on Top-40 radio; I had no idea who the Ayatollah Khomeini was, and like a lot of people in the South, I was still intrigued by the peanut farmer from Georgia who was living in the White House.

By May, I was just finishing up the fourth grade, and I had no idea that all these changes were coming. Some of these changes like the SBC thing, I would not know or fully understand until I was an adult. Nevertheless, I had plenty of things on my mind:

A few months earlier, I had watched Super Bowl XIII. I was rooting for the Cowboys (don’t know why), so I was still trying to get over the heartbreaking loss to the Steelers. 1979 was a big year for Pittsburgh sports; the Steelers won back to back Super Bowls in 79 and 80 while Willie Stargell and the Pirates won the 79 World Series. By the way, I was more heartbroken by the Steelers’ victory over the L.A. Rams in Super Bowl XIV than I was the year prior when they beat the Cowboys. Why? Well, Jack Youngblood is why. He was the best, and I just wish the Rams could’ve made it to the Super Bowl earlier in his career before Merlin Olsen retired. When Youngblood lined up at the defensive end position and Olsen lined up at defensive tackle, no two were better. Youngblood had heart; some of you may remember that he played with a fractured left fibula in much of the playoffs that year. Well, I’m getting a little too nostalgic, but these are just samplings of the things that I experienced at that time in my life.

I was among the generation of kids who grew up in front of the TV because there were no video games (except at the arcade), no internet, etc. My favorite TV shows in 79 included Buck Rogers, Battlestar Galactica, CHiPs, and a few others. Also in 79, you could occasionally find me at King’s Skating Rink. Mr. King built a new rink that year (it has since closed), and that was also the year that the Monroe Mall was under construction which was the beginning of the end for downtown Monroe as a retail center.

By May, I was playing Little League baseball and was a member of the Cub Scouts, and I was still trying to figure out why Jim Jones led all those people to commit suicide the previous November.

May of 79 was the eve of change, but one change that was coming was one that I never expected (or invited) due to the other affairs that normally occupy the mind of a fourth grader who is in the last few weeks of school before summer break. It was a warm May evening and darkness had fallen which means it must have been getting really late because we were well into daylight savings time. Yet, I was still outside. It was an off-night for us Little Leaguers, so I just hung around outside at the apartment complex where we had been living ever since my mom and dad had split-up four years (to the month) earlier. Back in the day, the apartment complex had a swimming pool. It is now gone and another apartment building sits on the site of where the pool used to be. I was standing in front of the metal storage shed that housed the pool’s pump and cleaning equipment when I was suddenly overcome with terror.

My thoughts could have been directed at any number of things that a kid my age would think about. Thoughts of Mrs. Price’s fourth grade class, my friends, and the Little League season are all things that were part of my life back then. But for whatever reason, all of these thoughts were interrupted with the holiness of God. I wasn’t at church listening to the pastor, but my encounter with God’s holiness at that moment was nothing like I had ever experienced at church.

The thought of God’s holiness created a dilemma for me because I knew that I, despite only being a child, could never stand before a holy God. The knowledge of God’s holiness brought an instant knowledge of my own sinfulness. And I even knew at that moment that there was absolutely, positively nothing that I could do to make things right. So, that was it; I knew I was doomed. I had probably heard about Jesus in church, but I didn’t know who He was or what He was, nor did I know what the cross was about. After all, Easter was when the Bunny came and left a lot of chocolate and other goodies at my house. Therefore, I concluded that I was doomed and there was no way out of it. Terror, dread, despair, and blackness, are all words that come close but do not really describe what came over me. When I say, “came over me”, I literally mean that I could feel it. I didn’t know Jesus, but I sure knew what hell was, and at that point, hell was my destination; I couldn’t avoid it, and there was no hope of altering the course that would lead me to it.

There is only one place for a child to go when he or she is in that position... Mama! It was there where I heard for the first time the redemption story and the restoration found in Christ alone. That night in the presence of my mom, my moment of despair disappeared as eternal life became mine in Jesus Christ.

The love of God is a love that I’m sure can’t be measured. But I also believe as R.C. Sproul has pointed out in his book, The Holiness of God, that God is just as holy as He is love. He is just as wrathful as He is merciful. I have no problem with that because in His mercy, He drove me to Himself with the reality of His wrath.

On second thought, my spiritual journey really was dramatic.