I went to church. I was known in church. I spoke up to pray. I spoke up in conversation. The older people liked me. Mothers liked me. I was the nice kid. I could quote Bible verses. I came from a good family. I did not drink alcohol. I did not party. I tried in school. I joked in school. I once cheated in class, but I felt bad about it. I told the teacher. She gave me a C. I played sports. I played baseball. I was okay at baseball. I was polite to adults. I called them sir and maim. Did I say that mothers liked me? I had lots of friends. I had some good friends. I had some girlfriends. Never more than one at a time, though. I was committed. I was a loyalty guy. Well, I lied to my parents some. But I went to church. I listened to Christian music. Did I say that I had memorized some Bible verses? I even wore one of those bracelets. I had a couple of T-shirts. I wanted to go to a Christian school for college. I prayed a lot, you know? Aloud in groups. And they were good prayers. I crashed my car. I almost died. I should have died. I did not die. But I was already dead.
Something happened in those months that followed. Nothing overnight. It took some time. For all that I did, in all the ways that I acted– the person who was most deceived was me. I had fooled myself into thinking that I was good enough. I coated my sin in the words of ‘struggle’ and reminded myself that nobody is perfect. I was a dead man who bought his own lie. It was like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense. I was a dead man who played the part of one who lived. I played it so well, so freaking well, that I actually believed I was the fictional character I pretended to be. Guilt for my sin was not what I needed. I felt that often. I felt bad many times and it seemed to promise some moral change only to end in bankruptcy time and time again.
I needed to be made alive. I didn’t need a boost to accomplish spiritual duties, I needed a spiritual appetite. I needed a new heart. And I am not sure how it happened. I may have even felt a desire for ministry before I was born again. But somewhere in my first year of college, somewhere during that time, God made me alive. He saved me. I really trusted in Jesus. I really embraced His work on the cross for me and my salvation. I was full of busted morality, fickle desires, deep confusion of who I was and what this thing called life was all about. I would not have said that then but I felt all those things. And Jesus stepped in. He came and He saved me. I don’t know why (I could give you some biblical and theological explanations about His unconditional election and about His own purposes and grace. Those are amazing and they are good news to me). But for now, can I just leave it there?– “I don’t know why.” I don’t know why He saved me. I don’t know why.
I don’t know why, but I am amazed that He did. He saved me. Jesus saved me. I am alive. Jesus saved me and made me alive. Jesus, come and save your people. Save your people from among all the nations. Gather your church and come. Finish this thing. Please, come!