Testimony, Part 1

Second grade portrait, Fall 1971.

In Ecclesiastes 3:11, Solomon declared, 

"Everything is appropriate in its own time. But though God has planted eternity in the hearts of men, even so, many cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end."

This verse very aptly describes my early life. As I look back and recount how God has led me to Himsef, I do not recall a time when anyone had to explain God to me; He planted eternity in my heart.  I remember always being able to grasp His omnipresence (everywhere at once) and His eternal nature. Of course, there were other things I had yet to learn but that is what my testimony is: God has been always been faithfully guiding me even when I was on a path of destruction.

My father passed away a couple weeks after I was born. Soon after, my mother moved my two teenage sisters and me to a suburban neighborhood near Los Angeles. Ours was not an overtly religious family. Besides incidental discussions touching on spiritual mattters such as, "Where is MY dad?" "He's in Heaven, dear..." or talking with my sister about God being everywhere at once, there was little else in my life instructing me in God's ways. Yet, I instinctively knew God was good and He was always there.  I do recall my grandfather went to church and he took it quite seriously. He always insisted the family gather for Easter and Thanksgiving. I remember meeting for Easter dinner once when I asked my sister why we were gathered and why Grandpa prayed at the start of the meal. She relayed the Easter story to me, telling me about this super neat guy, Jesus, who was murdered by some bad guys but  fortunately, He came back to life, and that's why we celebrate Easter. I was sad that Jesus was murdered but I was glad He rose again.

While I was in first grade, I learned that my school bus driver also drove a church bus. It seemed natural to me to ride that bus too. I was taken to a church where they had a very active children's ministry. This is where I first heard the gospel. They spoke of Jesus dying for my sins and showed that famous picture of Him knocking on a door in the midst of a beautiful garden. As they showed the picture, they sang a chorus along the lines of, "won't you let Him into your heart?" All this confused me. What did they mean, "Jesus died for my sins?" How do I let Him "into my heart?" I looked inside my shirt wondering if my insides looked anything like that picture. Mind you, I  could ponder God's eternal nature but I couldn't get my mind around Jesus paying for my sins or coming into my heart.

I suppose me not being able to understand  the gospel was because I really didn't know what sin was. I knew if I did something I wasn't supposed to, that was called sin. I also knew I did bad things or at least things I got in trouble for but I had little or no conscience when it came to sin. The only exception to this was stealing. I remember once, stealing coins from my mother's purse then becoming extremely convicted. That was the first time I can recall my conscience truly bothering me. It was a start.

That was pretty much the tone of my spiritual life until the summer of 1974. Life took a major shift for me that summer. The next ten years had the greatest impact on me and deserves its own post. 

Peace and grace to all.

Arnold.