A Lifetime in the Making

Jesus stood before me as I looked up at Him through tearful eyes. In just moments He had turned my world upside down and inside out. That encounter was a lifetime in the making.

I was born in Chicago, Illinois, a month before President Kennedy was shot. It was also the year of Vatican II, and my political activist and church columnist dad was heavily involved in the translation of the Latin missalettes to English. He both defended and hated the absolute power of the popes because he wanted it for himself. That is how he tyrannized his wife and six children.

That spirit conflicted with the Spirit I felt as I read the little black New Testament I won for playing kickball in Vacation Bible School. Two questions hammered me for months: Where are the prophets and apostles? Also: Why has Jesus not returned after 2,000 years? (While Adventists have been waiting only 200 years, as Catholics we’d been waiting a lot longer!)

One crisp autumn day as I crunched through the leaves, I figured it out. God was dead! God had died, or He had abandoned us for another universe. Either way, that left me a confirmed atheist at 11 years old in sixth grade.

For God So Loved the World, Including Me

I was not aware of it at the time, but my attitude and outlook degenerated. I was not raised with a sense of right and wrong, only what was logical and what I could get away with behind my dad’s back. Like a desperate, abandoned kid, I now felt even those restraints slipping. Joining the Boy Scouts and going camping for the first time was the only positive influence in my life.

Then we moved to a 10-acre property in southern Illinois for high school. My first research paper assignment was about psychics. That reignited my curiosity in prophecy. I was an atheist, but I thought I could solve the symbolic puzzle of Revelation.

A book from my dad’s huge library, The Late Great Planet Earth, got me started down the secret rapture before seven years of tribulation route. But as soon as I would close those books and open the Bible, thoughts of the rapture would disappear. My continued research led me to Uriah Smith’s Daniel and Revelation.

Now things began to make sense! Except that he wrote about a seventh-day Sabbath and yet claimed to be a Christian. I was confused and at a dead end in my research.

Then one day I overheard someone say “Seventh-day Adventist.” That was a new topic for the library card catalog. It led me to a shelf of two dozen Adventist books. I randomly picked one from the middle, then sat down at a table to begin reading The Great Controversy.

In the middle of the first chapter I read, “The Majesty of heaven in tears! the Son of the infinite God troubled in spirit, bowed down with anguish! The scene filled all heaven with wonder. That scene reveals to us the exceeding sinfulness of sin; it shows how hard a task it is, even for Infinite Power, to save the guilty from the consequences of transgressing the law of God.”[*] That is when everything came together for me.

I was making choices. The whole world throughout history was making choices. God was making choices. It now all made sense. I felt sorry for God and for us. That is when Jesus appeared. Was He really there? Was I in vision? I do not know, but the encounter lasted only a few seconds. He did not say a word, only smiled and looked intently at me. He stirred my heart, challenged my brain, and injected myriads of new thoughts. Then He was gone.

Prophecy was still interesting, but now my goal was to find God. He was real! He was alive! He cared about me!

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit

I read every Adventist book I could find. L. E. Froom’s four-volume set, The Prophetic Faith of Our Fathers, was devoured. I slogged through Questions on Doctrine. But those Ellen White books made God and heaven real! She really knew her Bible! (Two years later I discovered she was a prophet.) I was ready to become an Adventist and go to heaven!

I communicated those thoughts to my dad, who promptly sat me down, read me the riot act, and interrogated me. He asked me three questions. How can you be right and your father wrong? How can you be right and the biggest, oldest church wrong? How can you be right and the whole world wrong?

These questions honestly sent me spinning. I had no answers. I had no idea what I was getting into or its implications. Dad said, “As long as you are in my house, you will do what I tell you to do, and you will think what I tell you to think.” He started his own catechism, but I also kept Adventist books in plastic bags under the moose tree on the lower property. I withdrew from social life and researched all the history, science, religion, and philosophy I could find. I had to be sure that I was right and that I would not be leading others straight to hell.

It took God a long time to wring self-confidence and pride out of me. Then things went from bad to worse.

On top of that, I had discovered the little book Steps to Christ. Now I knew that I was not ready for heaven, because I was not converted. I knew I was not converted because I did not hear the angels sing nor feel like I was floating a foot above the ground.

For two more years I searched, prayed, and retreated to the woods to plead with God. I looked for an Adventist church, but the phone book kept leading me to a Baptist church instead. All the books I read had copyright dates in the 1950s or earlier. I began thinking that the Adventist Church had become extinct and that I was the last one on earth, and I wasn’t even an Adventist!

Space limits me, but I am trying to get the point across that I was cut off from every earthly support in my search for truth. I had to watch every word and act, lest my dad find out I was still searching. It took God a long time to wring self-confidence and pride out of me. Then things went from bad to worse.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

Two years later, when I was almost 16, a new telephone book had a new number that enabled me to contact an Adventist pastor. We met secretly twice in the state park below my house. He insisted on calling my dad, which brought a swift end to our meetings. In fact, it resulted in a meeting during which my father lectured and derided me in front of the family.

Finally he asked me point-blank, “Will you give up this nonsense about the Seventh-day Adventist Church being the true church and wanting to join it?” When he asked me that, I felt as if I got pushed to the back of my head and someone else was speaking through my mouth. I lied, “Yes. I think they have problems. I need to study more, and I’m not sure about them.”

I need to pause here. After being in the church for more than 40 years and teaching in academies for 20, I have learned something about many Adventists. They know about their doctrines, but they don’t have a living connection with Christ. They are no more prepared to stand with Him when things get rough than I was during that meeting. Like Peter, I denied my Lord under pressure. I bore a terrible witness before my siblings.

Deep depression, dark isolation, and suicidal thoughts flooded me. Every night I prayed to God, Don’t let me die, because I know I’m not ready. I wasn’t pleasing my parents. I wasn’t pleasing God. I was miserable.

After my eighteenth birthday I sat on a hill on the edge of the Southern Illinois University (SIU) campus. The autumn sun was bright, but my soul was dark, and my body felt like an old man’s. I was free to choose, but I had no strength or desire to choose.

Then the Holy Spirit came down and seemed to push Satan to my left. Then He stood on my right hand. There was no pressure or fear in my head. The choice was mine, all mine. This was new to me.

Blessed Are the Meek

I really wasn’t sure about pursuing God and church anymore. Then I realized I wanted to get out of the middle. One way or the other, but not both. That was half a decision. I was making progress!

I peered down the two paths to their farthest ends; then I got up, found a pay phone, and called the church. The new pastor connected me with a graduate student, Lester Morrow, who gave me Bible studies, but I knew them already. More than Bible studies, what he and his wife gave me was an example of warm, true Christianity. I sat on their couch in their apartment as if I were in a spiritual sauna, soaking it all in.

A few months later they took me to evangelistic meetings in the next town. On a Friday night, February 12, 1982, I was baptized. I was the first male back to the changing room. I fell on my knees and prayed, Lord, no more compromise!

During the car ride home Les asked me, “Ed, how do you feel?” I replied with a smile, “Like a son of God!” I had peace!

Blessed Are the Hungry

A couple months after the halo of baptism faded, I found myself troubled once again over my earlier sin of denial. I did not feel forgiven. I did not know how to move forward with God, because I did not feel as though God was with me.

After all these years and out of the billions of people in the world, I still marvel that I am a Seventh-day Adventist!

It came to a head on a Saturday night as I was reading in my trailer. I slammed my book down, walked out the door, then down the nearby abandoned railroad tracks. I was not coming back until God forgave me.

There was a cemetery on the left, so I went in there so no one would bother me. I prayed. I cried. I got angry. I walked in circles. I sat down. I was frustrated, determined, and clueless. Sometime after 2:00 in the morning I was wandering in dejection near the entrance, tempted to give up.

Then I felt, but did not see, Jesus at my right side with His hand on my shoulder. In my head I distinctly heard, “Ed, I already forgave you.”

I stopped. I searched wildly through my memory banks. What had I missed? What did He say and when? Then I thought that maybe He was referring to the Scriptures? So I started flipping my mental pages. That’s when I found it!

“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34, KJV). That applied to all people of all times. That applied to me! He was my Savior. He would be with me. He would give me strength and power to walk and work with Him.

I did not get back home until almost sunrise. I spent hours sitting by a creek, thanking God and singing and just experiencing the moment. I wanted to learn so I would never forget.

To this day I usually go to God outside. I repent and plan whatever I need to do to fix things. Then I thank Him for His forgiveness. Sometimes the relief comes right away. Other times I need to go back again, and maybe again. But the blessing always comes sooner or later. I don’t worry about it or force it. I thank Jesus that I sense, or will sense, His presence again. Then I dry my tears and move forward.

Call that faith, belief, righteousness, or whatever you want. I just accept the truth and acknowledge the fact: My Father and I are together again. That’s enough for me. It’s all I want.

Christ will give Himself to you because He already gave Himself for you. Take hold of Him. Do not let Him go. He will bless you, and you will know it.

My mentor taught me how to discover God’s will using the Urim and Thummim way of praying. We asked, yes or no, on all the available options for where I could get my next job. All doors closed except for what is now Southern Adventist University. I went home and told my parents I was transferring away from SIU. Before supper my dad asked me three times if I was sure. After supper he warned me three times that if I went to the Adventist college, I could not come back home.

The next morning everyone went to work or school, leaving just my dad and me. He took a different approach and sat silently on the couch. Not a word. For 45 minutes we just sat across from each other as I wondered what he was doing, but I also felt Christ’s presence holding me solid as a rock. We said goodbye, then I left, never to be accepted again. But I gained much more than I lost that day.

Blessed Are the Merciful

A friend drove me with my two suitcases and bicycle down to Southern. From my last paycheck I paid my room deposit and tithe. I literally had only a dime left in my pocket. Then I immediately started looking for a job so I could earn money for food. The next afternoon someone told me that I could use my student ID card like a credit card in the cafeteria. I and my hungry stomach were so thankful that evening!

Within a few days I met the girl I would one day marry. A few months later, after prayer and study, God showed me that I should be an evangelistic educator or an educating evangelist. That conviction remains upon me to this day, even after 20 years of joys and trials as an academy teacher and principal.

There remained just one more bridge to cross to complete my full transition to the Adventist family.

I had frequently reached out to my parents to maintain some kind of distant relationship, and shortly before our marriage, my fiancée and I found ourselves back in southern Illinois at a friend’s house. My mother pleaded with me to call my dad before returning to school. So we stopped at the pay phone in my hometown.

For an hour he yelled, berated, and otherwise condemned me for becoming an Adventist. After 10 or 15 minutes he would come up for air and ask if I was still there. Yes, we were both listening. Then he would start another rampage. I began to wonder if this is what demon possession was like. Finally I told him I needed to go because I had a long drive. “I love you,” he said, and hung up.

Five minutes down the road I felt it and said it at the same time. It was almost involuntary. A realization more than a choice. “He’s not my father anymore.” Then I felt God the Father looking down on me. “I will be your Father,” He said. I then felt incredibly warm and peaceful. My whole life of fear melted away into pity. I no longer looked up to my dad, but upon him with sorrow and pity.

I never again asked, What would Dad do? I never used him as a reference point for good or bad. I now started over on a clean, blank slate with Scripture and faithful church members who helped me become a man, a husband, a father, and a church worker.

After all these years and out of the billions of people in the world, I still marvel that I am a Seventh-day Adventist! God found me and brought me into His true church. Its doctrines are fully biblical, and its faithful members are many. I will stay with it and Him forever!

[*] Ellen G. White, The Great Controversy (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1911), p. 22.