Turning Point

35 years ago today was a Sunday. The weather was much like now; rainy, cold, blowing. I slept in, wrote in my journal, didn’t have breakfast or lunch and spent the afternoon at my friend, Sharon’s house. At 6:00 p.m., in her parents’ borrowed orange VW bug, we drove along Boundary Avenue, turned right onto the highway, left onto Estevan and into a large parking lot. We entered an institutional-type building with a wide foyer, red carpet, and high ceilings, then through double swinging door into an auditorium. Friends waved Sharon and me over to sit with them. I didn’t really know anyone.

Over the course of the next hour, while sitting in my red plush seat amongst 20 or so teenagers and 350 others, I listened to a woman speak from behind a podium about a person who lived a long time ago. Her words were ordinary but their meaning was anything but.

That evening I stood up, alone, in front of all those strangers and declared my intention to surrender my life to Jesus Christ.

In the weeks that followed I was assured that I was in a phase, something new that would prove to be false and I ought not to bet my hopes in. My friends did not understand why I no longer had interest in partying. I’m sure there were many who hoped I would forget the entire thing and get back to my old self.

Here I am, 35 years later and by the grace of God, still daily surrendering my life to Jesus. Turns out, it’s no phase.

Gloria in excelsis Deo.