I remember going to Second Baptist Church in Cambridge, Ohio. I was very young. It was the early sixties and I, being five or six years old, did not pay attention to the pastor's words. I was bored and could not wait to leave.
The pastor, Marshall Harper, was an old man, broad in stature, sporting white hair and a white beard. He seemed scary to me. As I grew older I began to listen to his words. We attended the church every Sunday morning, every Sunday evening and every Wednesday night. Slowly, the message he spoke began to make me wonder about God.
I received a Bible for my ninth birthday. I began to read. It was boring to me, though some of the stories I found mysterious and exciting. I decided to attend youth group led by Neal and Amos Day. They had a way of explaining to the younger people how the stories reflected our everyday lives. We had cookouts and played games. I grew more interested the words of the Bible. Much of it was confusing.
In Genesis, there seemed to be two stories of the creation of mankind. I sought out more information in other books. I became an avid reader. I decided to make a goal of reading the entire Bible. Some of it was boring, but certain stories challenged my mind.
I convinced my parents to let me sit in a pew, away from every else. I found it easier to concentrate on the sermons. I listened intently and finally began to understand the messages he preached. At the end of each sermon, the pastor would call upon anyone who wanted to be saved to come forth and let it be known you wanted to be saved.
One Sunday evening, I found the words of Marshall Harper swelling inside my heart. I became warm. I wanted to cry. I did not want to be a sinner and end up in Hell. I surprised the congregation by coming forth when he called for those who wanted to be saved. I remember crying as Marshall held be and blessed me. I was one of the youngest to ever come forth. He announced to the congregation that I would be baptized the following Sunday evening.
I recall being dunked in the water several times. I felt more alive. I felt free from sin. I truly believed I was saved and would forever be one of God's children.
Two years later, Marshall Harper died. They closed down the church. The deacons and the rest of the congregation decided to build a new church just in a different area of the town. I helped as much as I could to construct the new building. The deacons found a preacher who came from Dallas, Texas. He had a wife, a daughter and son one year younger than me. His name was Daniel. We became the best of friends, especially when we discovered we both had a passion for sports, namely baseball. We spent as much time together as possible.
This preacher, Don Cooper, had a very different way of teaching a sermon. He used an overhead projector and asked people to take notes if they wished. He encouraged participation in a question and answer period. I was fond of his way of presenting the teachings of the Bible. This went on for four years. Then, one day, something unimaginable happened.
Our family arrived at church one fine Sunday morning. The doors were chained and padlocked. Some of the congregation was inside. Groups of twenty or so were left standing on the sidewalk. A man I had trusted, Neal Day, came outside. He explained to us that they had gotten rid of Don Cooper and found a new pastor. They had taken a vote and somehow decided the group outside were not fit to be members of this new beginning.
We were all dumbfounded. How could this be? I recall staring at the cornerstone, which inside, contained a list of the founding members. My name was on that list. There was nothing we could do but go home.
I was very angry. I could not understand how people who were supposed to love and care for everyone could do this to us. I promised myself I would never again step one foot inside a church again. I have kept that promise for twenty-two years.
I had just turned eighteen and began rebelling against society. I found new friends at school. They encouraged me to drink and take drugs. I did not care about church and wanted nothing to do with God. This resulted in several years of mayhem and destruction of my soul. I began to go to bars and start fights. I would do just about anything I pleased. I should have been arrested many times for some of my unruly activities, but for some reason that never occurred.
