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.