Testimony

THE STORY- She wrote, "Jesus is Lord!"

Death is often at the forefront of my thoughts, and it helps me to keep life in the clearest 

 perspective.   When I attended one of my first classes at the University of Evansville we were asked a question as an icebreaker.  The question was, “If you could travel anywhere in the world you wanted to, where would you go?”  I had a few moments to consider an answer to that question while others were giving theirs.  When it was my turn I said that I would die.  There were gasps.  I tried to explain myself.  “Well, it’s certainly a place I’ve never been, the other side of physical life that is.  I can practically go anywhere in this world just by looking at a picture.  I realize looking at a picture isn’t quite the same as being there, but who can show me a picture of life after death?”  My classmates were still looking at me funny.

The next two years proved to be the hardest of my life.  This wasn’t only because of class work, although that was difficult at times.  Many personal events happened that changed the course of my life, as well as my views toward it.  I’m sure you can imply that these were not positive events.  I found myself in a downward spiral.  I used to feel I had fallen into that spiral, but now it seems more like I was pushed.   

Death was no longer a thought in the forefront of my mind, probably because I already felt dead.  I had lost all perspective, and any hope and faith I had at that time went with it.  I lived my life accordingly.

It is difficult to pinpoint an exact moment any change occurred in the way that I would perceive life.  What I can say is that I began to feel a deep desire for meaning.  All I was seeing around me were the awful things of this world.  I could not accept, did not want to accept that as all there is.  I know I’m not alone when I say that the events of September 11^th, 2001 affected me deeply.  At some point in the week of that terrible tragedy I found myself crying uncontrollably for those who died.  I felt so much pain and grief that I couldn’t keep it in.  I didn’t know one single person who was killed, but I grieved for them and their families as if I had known them all of my life.  I suddenly found myself with a new perspective.  Death had thrown itself in my face, and forced me to realize its imminence.

God was working in me.  He was bringing me back.  It wasn’t that day that I accepted Jesus.  In fact, Jesus wasn’t a thought in my mind yet, but I was beginning to think about my life differently.  On September 22^nd, 2001 I wrote: “What if everyone in the world, at the same moment stopped, stopped talking, walking, thinking, feeling.  Would the world cease to exist?  Is human life the most important thing in the world?  Are we more valuable than the world itself?”  I began looking at other people differently as well.  On the same day I wrote, “Does my sight stop short?  Is he really just a person walking down the street?  Yes, but where is he walking to or from?  What does his life mean to others?  On what or who will his thoughts have an influence?  Will it be good or bad?”

My two years in Chicago were a very challenging time for me emotionally, spiritually, and physically.  It was as if I had been released from a slingshot when I arrived in that city.  I was moving very fast, felt out of control, and it seemed like eventually I was going to experience a hard, sudden impact against an immovable force that was just going to crush me.  Amidst all of my confusion and angst though, I held my ground.  I fought hard to stay up, and did my best to meet my challenges. 

I began searching internally.  On December 12^th of 2002 I wrote, “Life is about having a strong belief in yourself, and realizing that what you feel deep inside of yourself is what matters most.  The best thing to do is to cater to that belief, and forget about and jump over all the obstacles that get in your way.”  Rereading this now, knowing that I said these words, knowing who I was around the time I wrote them and who I had been not long before, surprises me.  There is optimism here and confidence.  I didn’t know I was capable of having those things. 

It was the beginning of my second year in Chicago that I decided to do an experiment.  I decided that every Sunday I would attend a different church.  It would not only be a different building, but a different denomination as well.  Maybe it was because I had become curious enough about the differences between all the churches and denominations of which I knew that spawned this idea in my head, but I really don’t know where it came from.  I was able to do this for about four weeks before I lost interest, and the stresses of school and life in general stole me back to distraction and sleeping in on Sundays. 

It was some time in February that I began thinking about Jesus.  I began wondering why I didn’t believe, why it seemed I couldn’t believe.  Again, I have no reason for why I was wondering this.  It was a Wednesday night when my girlfriend and I were eating dinner at Miller’s Pub downtown on Wabash Avenue. There was a lull in the conversation, and whenever that happened she would find some way to try and start a conversation up again.  This time she told me to ask her a question.  I sat there for a moment trying to think of a question to ask, but all I had in my mind was this thought of how difficult it was for me to believe in Jesus.  So I brought that up instead.  After I made this statement, silence remained.  I don’t know what we ended up talking about. 

The next day I was working at the music library in Roosevelt University when I received an email from my Uncle who lives and works in Chicago.  He had invited me to go with him that upcoming Friday to attend a building open house party at my other Uncle's place of work.  They are brothers.  I was very excited about this because I had hoped to build relationships with the two of them while I was in Chicago, but it hadn’t happened yet.  I had been in Chicago for over a year and half at this point.  I responded back that I would go, and we made plans to meet at his office Friday evening to take the “L” together. 

Friday evening came, and we met as planned.  We had to take the blue line “L” train to get to my Uncle's workplace.  When we got on the train we sat behind a woman.  There were only 2 or 3 other people in the car, but they were spread out.  There was nobody else sitting close to the two of us except her.  Since she was directly in front of us I asked her my usual question, “Excuse me, would you mind writing or drawing in this book?”  My Uncle was looking at me like I was crazy.  She responded, “For what reason?”  I said kind of nervously, “No reason.”  She shook her head.  I was a bit taken aback, and I suppose kind of embarrassed that my Uncle saw me rejected.  I already felt funny doing my little project in his presence.  A few seconds went by, and then I said, “Well, maybe there’s a reason, I just don’t know it yet.”  That struck her somehow.  She cocked her head to the side, thought for a moment, and said, “Okay, give me the book.”  She never turned enough for me to see her face.  Please keep in mind that this is the only time I ever asked anyone on the blue line train to write or draw in my book.  Keeping with my practice, I did not look to see what she had written after she handed the book back to me.  We finished our ride, had a good time at my Uncle’s work party, and then left.  

We both needed to get to the red line, so we rode together on the blue to transfer to the red at the Jackson stop.  He was going to go on home, and I was going to try to get into the Auditorium Building where Roosevelt University is housed to do some practicing even though it was after 10pm.  When we came up the steps from the tunnel we noticed some people doing silent skits on the subway platform.  After watching for a few moments it became obvious that the skits were about Jesus.  Usually I would have been on my way, but I was compelled to go ahead and watch them until they were finished.  I glanced around the platform to survey the reactions of those who were down there with us.  An older looking man had just come up the steps, and stood there trying to figure out what this was about.  I turned to my Uncle and said, “When he realizes this is about Jesus he’s going to leave.”  A moment later, as a friend of his got to the top of the steps to join him, I heard him say, “Oh, it’s about Jesus,” and they walked away.  After each little skit, one of the performers would grab a microphone and say some words.  He said something that caught my ears.  It was, “We are eternally separated from God.”  This struck me because it seemed to me that the whole point of believing was not to be eternally separated from God.  I wondered what he meant by that statement.  I knew my Uncle was a believer so I asked about it.  I also knew it would elicit a lengthy conversation and more questions, and even though I usually wouldn’t have allowed myself to be trapped in such a conversation I did so anyway.  The kids were from the Moody Bible Institute.

We stood on that subway platform at the Jackson stop for at least 45 minutes talking.  Train after train would pass by, but we would remain in that dank tunnel; my Uncle trying to explain the gospel to me.  At some point near the end of our talk he asked if he could pray for me.  I hesitantly agreed.  He lightly placed his right hand on my left shoulder, lowered his head with eyes closed and began to pray.  I have not a clue of what the words are that he said then.  I stared down the tunnel at the next train that was coming wondering if that one too was going to pass on by.  I was nervous, self conscious but trying not to be.  Things closed in around me until nothing outside of myself seemed to exist.  He finished his prayer.  We hugged goodbye, and I walked up the stairs to State Street as he finally stepped onto a northbound red line train toward the Addison stop.  Later he told me that someone called him a faggot as he walked onto the train.  Obviously they saw us hug, and obviously they couldn’t have been more wrong.

I worked in the music library on Saturday afternoons, and while I was sitting there this particular Saturday biding my time I remembered that I had a new entry to look at in my book.  I opened up my backpack, pulled out the journal, and flipped from the back until I came to the new entry.  She had skipped a page, so the one before it was empty.  All I read was “Jesus is Lord!”  A warmth came over me, but I also became nervous and a bit anxious, even frightened.  I didn’t know what to think.  I felt at a crossroads.  I felt that I had come to a place of distinct decision of whether to believe or not to believe.  There were no other options.  I put the book down, a few times, only to read it again and again.  Was this God speaking to me?  Does He really do that?  Does He really exist?  The thought that this is coincidence came to mind, and I struggled with that consideration.  Ultimately I could not ignore the moment.  I had no choice but to believe.   

I remembered that the day before when I was with my Uncle he had invited me on Sunday morning to hear a fellow named Josh MacDowell speak at Moody Church.  This is a person who when in college set out to disprove that Jesus existed only to end up becoming a believer while doing so.  He was speaking at 7:30 am.  I can’t remember the last time I had been up that early on a Sunday.  Not only was it extremely early, but that particular morning was extra cold, extra windy, and extra snowy and wet.  I went out anyway, and only felt refreshed and alive.  My eyes were wide open. 

I stayed for the morning service after listening to Josh MacDowell’s confirming speech.  The sermon was about coming back to God, that we can always come back to Him, and He will be there waiting.  After lunch with my Uncle I went to school to do some practicing.  The computer lab on the 9^th floor with the practice rooms happened to be open that Sunday, so I decided to check my email before trying to get settled in a small, lonely practice room.  There were only two other people in the lab, and I overheard them talking.  They were talking about a Bible study that was going to start on Thursday nights.  This was the first in my time at Roosevelt, over a year and a half, that I heard anyone mention the Bible much less that they were going to be studying it.  It was also the first time in my life I had ever been genuinely interested in becoming part of a Bible study.  I interrupted their conversation to inquire more into what they were talking about, and if I could be involved.  This was very out of character for me at the time.  I did go to those Bible studies, and made some great friends. 

The events of that week and through that weekend are the most important of my life.  The changes that they spawned in me have greatly affected my life and the decisions I’ve made since.  My life has not been the same, and it never will be again.  This book is my personal testimony to a living God through Jesus Christ, and the love that He wants to impart to each of us so that we can impart it to others.  This book is my acknowledgement to our Divine Creator who has instilled in us our own creative impulses to stir each other’s souls.