The Prodigal Returns

When my mother died in 1971, I seriously began to question the existence of God. My doubt hardened into disbelief in the spring of 1978. After a failed engagement, I publicly stated in a tavern in Glen Cove after a softball game that I did not believe in God. It was the first time I had openly made such a statement.

Jesus had already placed four touches in my life. These were people who told me about His love and mercy. There were many more touches before I was convinced that Jesus is alive and concerned about me. Most of these touches were adults, but a few of them were children. At this time, I will only relate my conversion experience, the moment Jesus came alive for me.

On a snowy Saturday morning in February, 1992, I was in our bedroom putting clean sheets on the bed. I had the radio tuned into a country music station. This was a habit I was trying to pick up from Cindy, my wife. It never really took, but the song I heard that morning impacted my life forever.

Garth Brooks was singing Unanswered Prayers. It is a song about unrequited love. He sees an old girlfriend at a football game and reminisces how God had made the right decision steering him away from that girl, even though the breakup was painful at the time. I sat down on a bench at the foot of our bed and thought about my own painful, romantic past: a broken engagement and another failed relationship about two years later. Well, I thought, Jesus certainly knew what He was doing keeping me away from those two ladies and sending me to Colorado. I had been happily married to Cindy for almost four years at that time.

Then I reflected back farther to the death of my mother. My prayers to save her physically went unanswered because she was already saved spiritually. She didn't need her corporeal body any longer because she was ready for heaven. I was the one in need of salvation, not my mother. When this finally hit me after twenty-one years of doubt, disbelief, and railing and cursing at God, I broke down in tears.

Cindy heard me crying and rushed into the bedroom.

"What's wrong?" she said, alarm evident in her voice.

"Nothing's wrong," I said, relieved that this moment had come before I died. "Everything is perfect. I see it all so clearly now." I explained what I had just experienced. Cindy knew I had been plagued with doubt about the existence of God, but agreed to marry me anyway. Thank God for favors!

There is a misconception that those who believe in Jesus somehow have perfect lives. We don't, but believing in Jesus equips us with the strength to carry on when our human strength is depleted.