To Challis... On A Sportster?

My Sportster, loaded up for the trip to Challis.

I own a Harley Davidson XL883 Sportster. It is a fun little bike to ride. It's quick and very nimble.  The 883cc V-Twin is a strong little engine that has ample power to get me where I want to go. The suspension consists of two externally mounted shock absorbers connected between the frame and the swing arm. Little else. I FEEL the road when I ride. I FEEL that famous Harley Davidson rumble. Rugged and free. Not sheltered. Wind in my face. It's everything an adventurous biker looks for in a ride.

Within the organization of CMA, rallys are important events. At a CMA rally, members gather and friendships are forged and strengthened. Rallys are a time of refreshment. Get some wind in your face, have a good time with other bikers, build one another up. 

Each summer I attend the Idaho state rally which has been held in Challis over the past four years. Challis is located in central Idaho near Borah Peak, Idaho's highest point. The route I take to Challis goes east on Hwy 12 to Lolo, MT then south on Hwy 93 back into Idaho. All told, a bit over 400 miles.

The first time I rode to Challis, I did so on my Sportster. Looking forward to the adventure, I was chomping at the bits to ride. The first 200 miles was great. However, as the day wore on, I was beginning to have my fill of feeling the road; the rumble, the rugged and free unsheltered adventure, the wind in my face. 

As anyone who lives in Idaho or Montana can tell you, there are three seasons in the region: Winter, Almost Winter, and Road Work. I was riding smack in the middle of Road Work. Oh the joy of being cut off by a flagger and waiting almost a half hour for the pilot car to return. Baking in the hot sun. Ah... but this was the mountains of Montana. Mercifully, a cloud moved in and gave me some shade. CRACK! BOOM! A lovely little thunderstorm. Oh, look! The pilot car has returned! I can continue on my journey. Surely, this must be the last of the construction delays. 🤣😂 Lather, Rinse, REPEAT.

By the time I reached my destination, about 13 hours after the adventure began, let's just say I wasn't feeling very sociable. Our area rep walked up and greeted me with a huge smile. "Glad you made it!" I muttered something about it being a small world unless you're riding a Sportster. I was finally at a rally to forge friendships, strengthen bonds with fellow CMAers, have a time of refreshment... All I wanted to do was SLEEP.

Testimony: Epilogue

...Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. If anyone thinks he knows anything, he does not yet know it as he ought to know it. But if anyone loves God, he is known by him. - 1 Corinthians 8:1b-3 CSB

If you died with Christ to the elements of this world, why do you live as if you still belonged to the world? Why do you submit to regulations: “Don’t handle, don’t taste, don’t touch”? All these regulations refer to what is destined to perish by being used up; they are human commands and doctrines. Although these have a reputation for wisdom by promoting self-made religion, false humility, and severe treatment of the body, they are not of any value in curbing self-indulgence. - Colossians 2:20-23 CSB (Emphasis mine)

By the time I got off of active duty, I had been discipled in Fundamentalist circles for the better part of four years. I had a very solid foundation in the Word. I had excellent doctrine. And I knew it. Again, I do not fault those who discipled me because they had what I didn't: A good attitude. It's been said, "Attitude is more important than doctrine." If your attitude is good but your doctrine is off, you can be corrected in an instant. However, a bad attitude can take a lifetime to change, if it ever does. I needed to be deflated. That is why God saw to it that I returned to my beloved home state, California. My plan was to return to Pensacola for my education but my pastor in Virginia felt I would be better served by attending the Master's College in California for the field I was going in.  

I got out of the Navy in October of 1987, applied to The Master's College (now University) and was scheduled to start classes for the spring semester of 1988. I just knew I was well equipped for this next phase was going to ace everything I put my hand to. 🤣😂 At first, I did make a good impression with some of the faculty, but that didn't last long. While I had an outward appearance of maturity, inside I was still worldly. When I was back east, I was only imitating those who around me. The culture in California was very different and things that I thought would impress didn't mount to a hill of beans in my new surroundings. My facade quickly fell and not only did others see the real me, I finally did too. 

I lasted at The Master's College for one semester. Being Master's is a private college, it is EXPENSIVE. One thing I missed the boat on while in the Navy was the GI Bill. I didn't take advantage of it while it was available. But that's ok... God had His own plan for me. You see, The School of Hard Knocks has very low tuition. It turns out that I spent as much time in The School of Hard Knocks as I would have at Master's. 

By God's grace, my time in The School of Hard Knocks was time well spent. I didn't dawdle in the "wilderness". I was actively growing and maturing as a believer. I joined the Naval Reserve and did very well there. I was involved with my church and was discipled by a number of people, some of whom I am still in contact with. Again, God's sovereign hand was there leading me.

Writing my testimony for this blog has been quite the journey. In recounting my experiences and looking for God's hand in all I have been through, I've made several discoveries I hadn't realized before. It's been good to recount and sometimes it was painful to relive events from my past. I pray for you, dear reader, that you've found something in my story you can identify with and in so doing taste a little bit of His grace.

This story leaves off about 30 years ago but I can assure you my testimony is still being written. I will leave you with a passage I have adopted as my life verse(s):

My goal is to know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death, assuming that I will somehow reach the resurrection from among the dead. Not that I have already reached the goal or am already perfect, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God’s heavenly call in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 3:10-14 CSB

Blessings.

Testimony, Part 10 - Anchors Aweigh

F-14 Tomcat from VF-11 poised on the catapult ready for takeoff aboard the USS Forrestal, CV-59. Late 1980s.

Anchors Aweigh, my boys, Anchors Aweigh!

Farewell to foreign Shores, we sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay;

Through our last night ashore, drink to the foam,

Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!

I don’t say this out of need, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I find myself. I know how to make do with little, and I know how to make do with a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content—whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need. - Philippians 4:11-12 CSB (Emphasis, mine.)

I fully dedicated my life to God's purposes soon after joining the Navy and was discipled by a number of believers from various churches during my time in the service. However, I would be remiss if I didn't mention those in the Navy who were used by God to bring me up in maturity as well. Yet, most of those people were not believers.

As I've said a few times, when I joined the Navy, I lacked initiative. I was content to do only the bare minimum and was always looking for ways to cut corners or see what I could get away with. Of course, this attitude put me at odds with many of my superiors. One of the first ones I encountered was a grouchy Senior Chief at my A School. I showed little to no work ethic and after a bit too much daydreaming and general lack of military bearing, I was standing in front of him again. Despite promises of being written up, I was expecting just another chewing out for such a minor offense. Instead, that Senior Chief wordlessly delivered on his promise. I knew a report chit could derail my time at Millington. This was just one of those close calls I alluded to earlier. To this day, I doubt that Senior Chief cared what happened to me. All he was concerned about was he had another snot nosed kid with a punk attitude in front of him. He was either going to wade into me and pull out some kinks or he was going to drum me out of the service. Fortunately, this report chit did not go far but it was enough to shake my world. Needless to say, I did whatever I had to to avoid standing in front of him again.

Once in Pensacola, I rubbed up against some shipmates who were not exactly godly folks but they helped knock some rough edges off my personality.  After about a year there, I decided maybe I should show some initiative and learn different jobs and even volunteer for other duties in addition to my normal assignments. Upon doing so, my evaluations immediately began showing drastic improvement. Toward the end of my time in Pensacola, A division officer (who happened to be a believer) pulled me aside and said he had noticed my change of attitude over the past several months and that it was glorifying to the Lord. He told me to keep it up as it would serve me well. 

In late 1985, it was time to change duty stations. By this time I wanted to be assigned to a fighter squadron and go out on deployment. I ended up with VF-11, an F-14 squadron based out of NAS Oceana in Virginia Beach. We deployed with the airwing aboard the USS Forrestal in 1986. Even with my new found work ethic, life aboard ship was an adjustment. While underway, shifts were 12 hours on, 12 hours off, seven days a week. Seriously, what else is there to do on a ship? Ok... I got used to the work routine fast enough but one thing was missing: Christian fellowship. In particular, Christians who thought like I did. While there were a few, they worked in different shops, different divisions, different hours. There was a fellow believer in my shop but he was "different". While I tried to put aside our differences, I was too caught up in making sure my "I's" were dotted and my "T's" were crossed correctly. This gave way to some contentious bickering between the two of us. Oh, how I longed to always be in fellowship with like-minded believers. Every time the ship was in port, I was always seeking out servicemen's centers like the ones in Pensacola or Norfolk. I did find good centers in Jacksonville FL and Naples Italy but more often than not, I had to make do with what I had.

Then there was the shop I spent the majority of my time in. While I did spend time on the flight deck during flight ops, I demonstrated my aptitude in being able to work on gear after it was pulled from the aircraft, so that is where I ended up. That was all well and good but my shop supervisor was a grumpy first class petty officer we called "Charlie". Think "Chah-lie" with a New York accent. Charlie was a former Marine who was injured in Vietnam and was processed out of the Marines because of his injuries. He later found the Navy would take him, so he reluctantly joined in order to finish out his 20 years. He was not happy to be where he was and everyone around him was made aware of that fact. However, he was by the book. He knew how to run a shop. The Navy doesn't care if a supervisor is a people person; if someone is otherwise capable, they will be put in charge. As you can imagine, me with my personality, and Charlie with his, we clashed. A LOT. Oh the blowouts we had... several times, Charlie could have, SHOULD have written me up for policy violations or outright insubordination. Yet, he never did. Charlie also had his little catch phrases: "Yo! Shipwreck!" and "Child, please..." It drove me nuts! Now I look back on it and, really, it was hilarious. I loathed him at the time but now I can point to him as one of the better supervisors I've had. Certainly, not because he was easy to work with.  I had some rough edges that needed to be knocked off and Charlie was just the person to do it. I don't think Charlie cared whether I lived or died other than to make sure I was on hand to accomplish my assignments. I can't say what Charlie's heart was really like but I can say he was God's man for the job in my life at the time. I've come to realize God is not constrained to using mature believers with gentle spirits to influence His children.

If I had to summarize this period of my life, I would say I needed to learn the secret of contentment. Was my life aboard ship as bad as I thought it was? Not nearly. Whether working for a grouchy supervisor or fellowshiping with believers who didn't think the way I did, a little personal contentment would have added much joy to my life. I had a GREAT time on deployment. In my seemingly menial tasks at my test bench, I played a vital role in the success of the entire airwing. I also got to see part of Europe! Who can honestly say they've stood atop of the Leaning Tower and overlooked Pisa? I can.

So far, my testimony has taken ten chapters to recount only the first 22 years of my life. However, these were formative years and the lessons learned have shaped me into what I am today. I believe I will make just one more entry in my Testimony series as it covers a very foundational lesson and continues to illustrate God's sovereign and guiding hand in my life.

Until next time, Blessings.

Testimony, Part 9 - Florida

The sugar white sands of Pensacola Beach.

My time at NATTC, Memphis having come to a close, I was eager to get on with my new job in the fleet. While I was disappointed that I was being sent to the opposite coast from what I wanted, I was, nonetheless, relishing the adventure that lay before me. I said good bye to my friends from the church and boarded my plane with every intention of looking up a church which had been recommend to me once I arrived in Pensacola.

I arrived in Pensacola in October 1983. As soon as I arrived, a feeling of extreme loneliness and isolation settled in on me. I knew nobody and I didn't know my way around town. I had arranged to call my aunt collect as soon as I got to the base and she'd refuse the call. That way, she would know I arrived safely but no one had to pay long distance charges. As her phone rang, I hoped she'd accept the charges anyway. She didn't. Silence. As I unpacked my suitcase, I noticed the clothes that had been laundered the previous day were still warm from the dryer. I felt pretty low at that point. 

Fortunately, I didn't have much time to wallow in self pity. The next day I began the process checking into my new duty station. I soon learned how to make my way around base but getting out in town was another matter. I still did not have a driver's license, so if I wanted to go to town, my only options were a transit bus with a limited schedule or take a taxi, which was a spendy proposition.

I called the church I had heard about and was told that there were people on base I could look up if I needed a ride but they had no other information. Okay... What now? I had become friends with barracks mates who had cars but they had no interest in church activities. Was I to wake them up on Sunday and ask them to take me to church? Church became out of reach. I hung out on base with my barracks mates but I wasn't interested in riding with them to very many places as they were often wont to hit the bars then drive back to base, sometimes heavily intoxicated.

During one of my ventures into town, I had noticed there was a servicemen's center about a mile north of the main gate. I decided I ought to check it out. It took a few weeks but I eventually made it by there. I walked into the center and met Mr. Varney. A fellow sailor was there relating to him how he had heard the sermon the previous Sunday at church and he realized he needed to get saved. I thought, "If nothing else, the gospel is shared there." The center was comprised of a nice quiet lobby with a couple of sofas, an adjacent book room and a ping pong table. It wasn't long before Mr. Varney was challenging me to a game of ping pong. Since I fancied myself a respectable ping pong player, I accepted. The other sailor broke out into a wide grin. I soon found out why: Mr. Varney quickly shellacked me. Apparently, being shellacked by Mr. Varney at ping pong was a form of initiation at this center. 

As that first evening went on, we were sitting on the sofas visiting when suddenly we had bibles in our laps and Mr. Varney sitting down and saying, "Open your bibles to..." A regular occurrence at this center was anytime there was more than one person there around 7pm bibles came out and a bible study happened. Mr. Varney also ran a van to NAS and to the other base across town on Sundays to pick up sailors wanting go go to church. After several weeks of being out of fellowship, I knew I was finally back. It was to be through this servicemen's center and the one in Norfolk, VA that was part of the same organization, where I would be discipled for much of the next four years.

I need to talk about the organization that these centers were part of and the churches associated with them. The centers and the churches I attended were associated with the Fundamentalist Movement. Long story short, according to Fundamentalists, Southern Baptists are a bunch of liberals. From 1984 through 1987, I was discipled in Independent Fundamentalist churches. It is ironic to think how I went from being anti-church to identifying with those "fanatics" I used to loath, but God has always led me where He wanted me. I know a lot of people, especially those in more "evangelical" circles who like to look down on fundamentalists as leagalists. But I've known a good many people from fundamentalist churches who are the real deal. They love the Lord with all their hearts and show grace wherever they go. In that, fundamentalists are no different than any other sect. All churches/movements are administered by fallible humans; there will be good and bad examples anywhere you go. I am grateful to God for allowing me to be discipled where I was. Because I was discipled in fundamentalist circles, I had a FIRM foundation in the Faith that I would not be easily moved from. I also learned an appreciation for a genre of music and worship I never would have otherwise.

That said, I also came away with a rather swollen head. Now, I do not fault those who discipled me for this; responsibility for harboring any pride lies squarely on ME. I will expound on this in a future post.

In my testimony, I've been recounting how God has used believers to touch and guide me. However, God has used plenty of non-believers to shape me as well. In my next post, I'll mention some of those.

Testimony, Part 8 - 1983

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways.” This is the Lord’s declaration. “For as heaven is higher than earth, so my ways are higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. For just as rain and snow fall from heaven and do not return there without saturating the earth and making it germinate and sprout, and providing seed to sow and food to eat, so my word that comes from my mouth will not return to me empty, but it will accomplish what I please and will prosper in what I send it to do". -  Isaiah 55:8-11 CSB

I arrived at NATTC Memphis, TN the evening of January 1, 1983 to start the technical training, "A" School, for my assignment in the Navy. My time there was to be a wake-up call, more so than boot camp. Whereas in boot camp, all I had to do was stand still and do whatever I was ordered and the worst consequence for failure was a bunch of calestenics, at NATTC, I had to practice time management. I had freedom but I was responsible to complete the tasks I was assigned, namely, my studies. The consequence for failure at NATTC was "rocking out", as in being dropped like a rock. Those who rocked out were sent to the fleet as unrated. Basically, a "deck ape" consigned to menial tasks for the duration of one's enlistment with little hope of rising above E-3. Let's just say I would have been well served had I possessed more of a work ethic and not been content with putting in minimal effort. I did complete my training but I had my share of close calls. I graduated from "A" School as an Aviation Fire Control Technician.

From a military standpoint, that was my time at NATTC in a nutshell. However, from a spiritual standpoint, God was about to set me on a path which would define who I was to become.

Shortly after arriving at Memphis, I decided to pursue my goal of being baptized. Since I had attended a Lutheran church and didn't find them too fanatical, I sought out the Lutheran chaplain on base. I made an appointment to see him and asked him to baptize me. He said he would but I first needed to go through some counseling and complete a bit of course work. I figured ok, I should know what I'm getting into, but then the chaplain told me I needed to commit to coming to chapel every Sunday. I knew that was not a commitment I could make. I mean, Sunday is often the only day for me to catch up on my sleep. However, the chaplain insisted I make a commitment. I then asked, "What about going to church in town?" The chaplain said that wasn't a problem, I would just need to have the pastor send him a memo that I was attending. STOP RIGHT THERE. This was exactly the fanaticism I was looking to avoid. I ended our meeting as quickly as I could and went back to my barracks. Now, on the bulletin board in the barracks, a flyer was posted inviting all military personnel to attend Bellevue Baptist Church in Memphis. A bus would be at the main gate parking lot early each Sunday and personnel could ride to church for services then, have a HOME COOKED MEAL afterwards. I liked the idea of getting off the base for a day and well, what sailor can turn down a home cooked meal? 

The very Sunday after I told the chaplain I couldn't commit to attending chapel every Sunday, I drug my carcass out of the rack to meet the bus going to Bellevue Baptist. Now I was doing this with some trepidation because I knew these were those fanatical Southern Baptists I wanted to avoid but the lure of a good lunch was too much for me to resist. I boarded the bus for the half-hour ride to downtown Memphis. Soon, a guy named Randy sat down and introduced himself to me. Randy seemed alright, in fact, he reminded me a little bit of Brad. We began chatting and I decided to tell him about my meeting with the chaplain a few days earlier. Fearing Randy would yell, "AMEN!!!" at what the chaplain told me, I was blown away when he laughed. He said that although he'd like to see me each Sunday, he would never coerce me into coming. If I didn't show up for a couple weeks, he'd seek me out to make sure I was doing well but attending church needs to be of my free will. This made a lot of sense and it put me at ease.

Once we arrived at the church, we went to the College/Career group for Sunday School which I found to be cool. For their worship time, they sang some songs I was familiar with from my days with Young Life. I don't remember much else with this group because what happened next would alter my life and my walk with God.

At the time, Bellevue Baptist was pastored by Dr. Adrian Rogers. For my readers who aren't familiar with him, in addition to being pastor of Bellevue Baptist, he had served as president of the Southern Baptist Convention and was a conservative stalwart. Dr. Rogers was a gifted teacher and charismatic speaker, but most of all, he was passionate about teaching the Word of God and standing FIRM upon it. In that first service, when he got up to speak, I was amazed at what I heard. He was teaching directly from the Bible; I even remember he was teaching from the book of 2 Peter, part of a sermon series called, "Salty Saints in a Sick Society." He had the ability to link various scriptures together in a coherent message that touched my heart. This church was ALIVE! It was alive with the same Spirit that pervaded at Malibu. I HAD to come back for more. In less than a week, I went from not being able to commit to attending church every Sunday to WANTING to be there as often as possible, hearing the Word. Those seeds that began sprouting at Malibu but had become dormant were now growing again.

Getting into the Word through Dr. Rogers' teaching and through a Bible study at a servicemen's center just off the base was having a positive effect on me. Of course, being exposed to the Word means you'll invariably come up against issues you need to address in your life. For me, this was the issue of repentance. Up to this point, I saw repentance only as something zealous street preachers called sinners to do. I knew Christians lived differently than non-believers, but I had no idea that repentance was a necessary change of thought and attitude toward one's old way of living. I began to wonder if I was truly born again or if I was just into Christianity for the "fire insurance". This brought me to a week of intense struggle with whether I was a Christian or not. In March of 1983, in the back of a church van after services, I prayed to God, "Make me whatever You want me to be." I was finally surrendering my old way of living and becoming more responsive to the life God wanted me to live.

At this point, I would like to unpack the two professions of faith I've mentioned: The June 1981 profession at Camp Malibu and the March 1983 profession in Memphis, TN. At which point had I passed from death unto life? For a lot of years, I pointed to March 1983 as the point of conversion because, outwardly, my life changed radically. However, I have come to believe that it was in June 1981 the Holy Spirit took up residence in my life because of the way my eyes were opened at the time. Then, when I finally heard the Word of God, it made sense to me and I gladly received it. I'm sure I heard the Word before but it did not resonate with me the way it did in 1983 even before I fully surrendered to God's will in March. Really, it matters little which event was my conversion; The important thing is, that in both instances, God brought me to where I needed to be in His timing.

Now, I would be lying to my readers if I said after the March 1983 encounter with God, everything worked itself out neatly and I was always, as the old hymn says, "On the upward way, gaining new heights everyday..." I had a lot of old habits to overcome and a lot of surrendering to do, but I was now pointed in the right direction. 

Back at NATTC, I was wrapping up my "A" School training and preparing for transfer to my first assignment in the fleet. Of course, I was wanting to be stationed in Southern California, but when my orders came in, the yeoman said, "You're going to NAS Pensacola, Florida!" I looked at him and said, "Pensa-WHAT!?" Thus, begans another chapter in my walk with the Lord.

Testimony, Part 7 - 1982

                     Senior portrait, 1982.

Do not be deceived: “Bad company corrupts good morals. - 1 Corinthians 15:33 CSB

As any camper who has experienced Malibu can tell you, when you come home from camp, you are on what is known as the "Malibu high". You are floating on Cloud 9. It's only natural: Spend a week in the beauty and grandeur of Malibu, experience the Spirit and have an encounter with your Creator, why shouldn't you be flying high when you get back? I would imagine the feeling Peter, James and John had being with Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration to be akin to the high I had when I returned from Malibu. But like Peter, James and John had to return to normal life, so, I too had to get back to "reality". 

I knew I was changed but what now? I was told to read my Bible but where do I start? One counselor suggested I start with the book of John, which I tried for all of a couple chapters, but linking my new life in Christ to the life I was returning to seemed as confusing as the gospel did the first time I heard it.

I told the pastor at the Lutheran church about my profession of faith and he said, "Good. Now you should be baptized." Baptized!? That was a bit "churchy" for me. Remember, I liked this church because not much was expected of me, now they want me to be baptized? Well, at least they only sprinkled a little water on you; not throw you in a tub and dunk you like those fanatical Southern Baptists did. I'll look into it.

I soon found myself being pulled in two directions. I still liked to party and after being with my peers for nearly a year, I was beginning to find my place with them and was able to find parties, but my friends who were encouraging me to follow Christ weren't into the party life. I eventually figured I could hang out with who I wanted to when I wanted to. I think you, my reader, can guess how that worked out...

At Malibu, the seeds of the gospel that were planted in my heart years earlier began to sprout. However, just as physical seeds sprouting in the spring become dormant during late frosts, so the sprouts in my heart became dormant as I began hanging out with the party animals. While I never reached the level of depravity I had a couple years earlier, my conduct during my senior year of high school was nothing to be proud of. This is not to say my senior year was a total failure, I actually had something to be proud of: I was keeping up in my studies and making up credits from past failures. I was also in the process of enlisting in the US Navy. To her relief, I was finally beginning to take to heart many of the values my mother had been trying to instill in me. I was going to make it after all. 

1982 opened with me making preparations to graduate and go into the Navy. Even though I was into partying, I was cleaning up my act (somewhat) because I knew the Navy would not tolerate drug use. By March, my senior portraits were on order, Mom had booked a flight up to Idaho to attend my graduation and she had just signed consent forms allowing me to enlist when we got a phone call one morning saying Mom had suddenly passed away due to a massive heart attack. She was only 60. Talk about a punch to the gut... To this day, I cannot even begin to fathom why God took her when she was on the cusp of seeing her hopes fulfilled in me.

My sisters and I journeyed to California to take care of Mom's belongings. That was a tough week for me but I knew Mom would want me to continue my progress whether she was there to cheer me on or not.

When we got back from California, I returned to finishing out my senior year. Unfortunately, earlier in the year, I had formed friendships with some unsavory characters and began to make some really stupid decisions. No details are necessary, but I soon crashed the car I inherited from Mom. I was not seriously injured, though my "friend" and I should have been killed. That spring, I lost a lot of respect in the community because of the crowd I was hanging with. After graduation, because of the life I was living, I got into a brush with the law that could have derailed me going into the Navy. Fortunately, the deputy was "too busy" to run me in. I decided I had better lay low for the remainder of the summer.

In August, I turned 18 and was now eligible to receive my portion of Mom's life insurance payout. I immediately went around paying off all the debts I owed and made amends with those I had wronged over the summer. 

I took some of the money and went on a month long vacation through California visiting family and going to some famous theme parks. I arranged with the Navy to be inducted in San Diego instead of Spokane. I was going to have a month of fun before boot camp.

I started my vacation visiting my brother who lived near Sacramento. He suggested I visit our dad's uncle and cousins who were in San Jose. I took his suggestion and went to San Jose. The first place we went was to see my great uncle who was bedridden with Alzheimer's. There was, of course, no recognition with him until one of his sons, Tom, began reading the Bible to him. His eyes suddenly focused and he acted as though he was comprehending the words of Scripture. This made quite an impression on me. Later that night when Tom and his wife, Betty had me in their home, Tom sat me down and began to share the gospel with me. He was very direct; wanting to make sure I knew Christ as my savior. It was a bit awkward for me as I tried to convince them of my conversion the previous year. I think I came across as trying to justify myself before them. I can't remember how the conversation ended but I remember seeing how serious they were about my position with God. In hindsight, it came to mean a lot to me that they would take the time to address this issue with me.

Soon, it was off to the Navy. Spiritually speaking, there isn't much to say other than I mastered the art of fence straddling; fellowshiping with the Christians and hanging with the party crowd.

I finished boot camp and left NTC San Diego two days before Christmas. After a few days of leave with family, I was off to my "A" school in Millington, TN. Little did I suspect what God had in-store for me there.

Till next time, Blessings.