Mark

When I 16, I prayed to receive Christ as my savior in a Frat house in Madison, Wisconsin. It was winter. It was night. It was downtown. Being a school night, going downtown at night wasn’t on the list of things I could do. However, Campus Crusade For Christ was holding a meeting at this frat house. I told my mom how I reeeeeaaaaaaaally wanted to go. And, since I’d be with a friend of mine who was known a “Jesus Freak” (It was the early 70’s. “Jesus Freak” sounded cooler than Christian.), and whose mother was friends with my mother, she said I could go. The game plan was simple. Go inside, wait a few minutes, then duck out the back and hang around downtown. God had other plans.

Instead of ducking out, I ended up outside the meeting sitting on some steps off the hallway that led to the downstairs part of the frat house talking to my buddy and a couple other Christians and that was the night I asked Christ into my life. I can’t tell you the emotional high I was on for the next few days. But, it wore off, and I thought, ”Oh well. So much for that.” and my life went on.

I still attended the Lutheran church I’d been raised in. And along the way, dabbled some in Wicca, I became a Catholic, left that, went to a legalistic church a few times, left that, went to a church whose members seemed more interested in what you wore and what car you drove, left that. I went back to Catholicism. Left that again, and decided that I’d had it with religion.

Jesus had been in my life since I was 16. I had no beef against the Bible. My problem was with organized religion and the hypocrisy of Christians. They’d smile at you one minute, then stick a knife in your back the next. I also didn’t care for the politics of organized religion. In fact, I equated it with any other franchise business. Like any big business, it was concerned with perpetuating itself, and covering up when things go bad. There was tendency on the part of many so-called Christians to equate material possession with God’s favor. The more you had, the better than someone else you were. Pretty much, it was Christians that kept me out of church, and it was Christians acting like Christians that brought me back.

What happened to get us here were the Gerharts. Chris and I had been friends with Beth and Brian. We met Phil and Marilyn when Beth told us a cat Marilyn had gave birth, and that if we wanted another cat, we could have one. We went over to get a cat, we ended up getting two, and a great friendship began. And as in any good friendship, food plays a major role.

One night everybody was over at our house for fondue, and someone said something about I don’t know what, I said, “Right there. That’s why I don’t go to church.” For some reason that stuck in my mind and over the next couple of days, some things happened that made me think.

There’s a joke that goes: “What’s the difference between a vacuum cleaner and someone who ride a Harley?” Answer: On the vacuum cleaner the dirtbag rides underneath. I ride a Harley. There are plenty of bikers who are major league jerks. Someone mentioned something to me about something they didn’t like that they saw some biker do. I responded with: “Hey, we’re not all like that.” Then I heard a voice say, “You mean like all Christians aren’t like the ones you don’t like?”

Honestly, I came here just to hear Brian play drums. But like that night on the steps of a frat house, God had other plans.

The Gerharts are the most amazing family, and I love them very much. On the way home from that first visit to CBC, I thought to myself, “Whatever it is they have that makes them the way they are—I want it. And if CBC helps them be that way, I want in.”

After attending once, and with no intention of anything other than to hear a buddy play drums, I told Chris that for some reason, I felt that CBC was going to play a major role in our lives. It’s been thirty-five years since that night in that frat house when I asked Christ to come into my life. Thirty-five plus years later, here I am. Kinda lends credence to the saying, “In God’s time, not mine.”

There’s a helmut sticker that reads: “If God’s your Co-Pilot, switch seats.” Yes…I was a Christian. Yes…I was saved. But it was like, “Ok God, thanks for the gift. I’ll handle it from here.” Now it’s “Ok God. What do you want me to do?” When a situation comes along, it now goes first to the Throne. I don’t pop a vein planning every contingency and how I’m going to solve it…most of the time. I tend not to fly off the handle as much. My language cleaned up, so I no longer sound like Tony Soprano—so much.

I think the biggest change I’ve noticed is that Chris and I communicate a whole lot better now than ever before. I mean, we weren’t miserable, weren’t on the edge of divorce. We just didn’t talk much. Yeah…that’s the biggest change. We communicate better. No way did Christ make me perfect. He did, however, make me a work in progress.

“For I know the plans I have for you” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

--Mark W.