In the Lynchburg area, I meet quite a few people who grew up like I did. I was in church 2-3 times per week. I went to Christian school. I went to Christian summer camp. I loved AWANA. I had Christian parents. Most of my friends lived the same schedule I did, surrounded by the same people, doing and assuming the exact same things. In fact, if I were to meet someone who didn’t at least know who Jesus was, I would need to travel to do so. I grew up in a Christian community, without a doubt.
Everything seemed fine, but there was one problem: I didn’t believe any of it. I memorized Scripture, went to Bible class in school, and heard more sermons than I can possibly remember, and I didn’t believe it at all.
Looking back, I’m not sure how I missed Jesus in the midst of all that knowledge, but I did. As a young kid (around 11 or 12 years old), I decided to just quit faking being a Christian and started doing what I wanted to do. Very quickly, I began indulging a rebellious streak that included drugs, alcohol, and more trouble in school than I care to remember.
And none of the trouble I got into seemed to scare me one bit — I wasn’t going to stop.
While all this was happening, my parents were taking me to church, making me go to youth group, and praying that my rebellion wouldn’t have long-term consequences.
On one of those youth group trips, I went to see a Christian comedian who claimed to be a former Satanist. (That claim, by the way, was later debunked). And, oddly enough, during a comedy concert where the man lied about his background, but told the truth about Jesus, I was saved.
Unlike some I’ve met, my encounter with Jesus wasn’t a little-by-little affair—it was overwhelming and radical. For me, beginning a relationship with Christ was like flipping on a circuit breaker in a house. Everything was there to make it work except for the electricity. I had all the knowledge I needed to believe God, but I’d missed Him, the power.
I look back on that 3-4 year rebellious streak, and I get a chill down my back. My behavior wasn’t just a matter of acting out. I was rejecting the God who loved me, even in the midst of all that. So, yes, God’s love gives me chills. He can’t possibly go back on what He’s done, no matter what I choose to do.
His salvation isn’t just a matter of making me behave and know the right things. I got the knowledge as a kid, and I rejected it pretty easily. I learned that God saves to transform—He’s not interested in incremental improvement nearly as much as in an overhaul.