A Decision for Christ
Back
in the early ’70s, in the prime of the Jesus Movement,
I responded to my first altar call at a youth rally in downtown
Washington, DC. Growing up Catholic, altar calls were unheard
of. But that night the musicians were very persuasive as
they spoke about Jesus Christ between each compelling song.
They, like Billy Graham, were there to lead people to make
a decision for Christ. Having lived a reckless adolescence,
I knew I was morally bankrupt, and I was looking for relief
from my screaming conscience. Who could reject the story
of such an amazing man as Jesus Christ!? Yes, I wanted to
make a decision to follow Him. I couldn’t wait to
become a true follower. These people were speaking about
Him in a way that I’d never heard growing up in the
Catholic Church.
Eagerly, I went forward, just as thousands have at Billy
Graham’s Crusades, to receive Jesus Christ. The experience
that night seemed so much more personal than listening to
the droning Latin masses I had attended as a young boy,
or having sat in a darkened confessional booth to speak
with the priest behind the dark, veiled window.
Afterwards, I anxiously inquired, “So, what are
we gonna do now?”
“What do you mean, we…?” he responded.
“Now that I’ve become a Christian, what are
we going to do now?” I asked.
“Well, you’re going to need to find a nice,
Bible-believing church so you can grow up in your faith.
And we are going to continue on in this evangelistic ministry
the Lord has given us,” he replied.
“Whaaat?!… Oh, ok…” I answered.
Puzzled all of a sudden, I thought to myself, “What
happened? I feel abandoned. Why can’t I be with these
people who just persuaded me to follow Jesus?” Now,
loneliness began to engulf me like a black cloud as they
packed up to leave the auditorium.
In the months to follow, I tried to be true to what I
had prayed, but somehow my own personal weaknesses and hurtful
ways got the best of me as I spent so much of my time alone.
The Bible-believing church wasn’t very helpful after
Sunday morning service. It wasn’t long before I found
myself crumpled up against the railing of our front porch
with my body writhing in pain. The door had just been slammed
by my father who had authoritatively let me know that I
was no longer welcome in his home. “Don’t come
back until you’re willing to come under my authority!”
he proclaimed.
“Fine!” I disrespectfully retorted. I hardly
cared anymore about anything. My heart was hardening like
stone. “Mom will let me go and live with her,”
I assured myself. Boy, was I ever in for a surprise. Mom
and her boyfriend didn’t take too kindly to my rebellious,
cocky attitude either. I sure had to do some fast talking
to the officer that she invited in the apartment to speak
with me about my drug usage.
Turning 18 years old came as a real shocker. My mom’s
boyfriend figured he could now legally, violently take out
on me what he had been longing to do for quite a while.
“Hey! What’s going on!” Before I knew
it, I was in worse shape than I’d been on my dad’s
front porch. I was grateful to get away alive.
“Jesus, if you’re really there, help! My life’s
a mess!” These were my thoughts as I was heading out
to the road to stick out my thumb. It seemed as though I
was hurting just about everyone I knew, including myself.
This had become my daily existence. Maybe my dad would be
willing to take me back if I’d humble myself. After
all, he was hurting pretty badly from my older brother’s
shocking suicide a few years before. Now, with me coming
back home and wanting to follow the Lord, perhaps he’d
have some consolation.
The next couple of years back with my father and his wife
seemed to have ironed out my life. Regularly going to church
and “Young Life” meetings with my high school
friends appeared to fill the void, at least when we were
together, or when I was blasting my Christian music on my
audio player.
After relocating to western New York and enrolling in
a state college, I was lost in the crowd. These secular
studies, especially in psychology, left me frustrated because
it seemed that everybody’s problems were diagnosed
to the tee, but no real solutions were given to understand
the enigma man is to himself. My attempts to share my puny
faith found a few positive responses, but by and large,
I was extremely insecure.
My dad’s close friend at the time, Sid Roth, a popular
Messianic Jewish evangelist, seemed to have the direction
I needed as I began to flounder in my Christian conviction.
“What you need to do is go to Bible school!”
This was his response to my longing question: “How
can I really be a disciple?”
On the outside, my life had been cleaned up. I was ferociously
reading my Bible, but somehow I was still dissatisfied about
my relationship with the Lord, and the lack of depth I was
experiencing with fellow believers around me. Countless
times, I would respond to rededicate my life. Maybe Sid
had the right answer, and I was getting desperate, so I
took his advice and applied for Bible college.
My years in Bible school were a mixed bag. On the one
hand, I was being filled with Bible knowledge and the social
life seemed a little deeper than what I had experienced
in secular college, but I was a little uneasy to realize
the way we were being groomed to assert ourselves as God’s
mouthpiece. My lack of willingness to serve in menial ways
was troubling to me as I read the scriptures and heard countless
sermons about how Jesus lived His life. It seemed so easy
to get caught up in the drive to be God’s man of faith
and power, looking for opportunities to preach before the
multitudes.
Of course, after graduation from Bible school, there was
a subtle, but very real pressure to get involved in full-time
ministry. My father’s desire was for me to jump right
into the Messianic Jewish ministry with Sid, with both feet.
This I did, and within a year, I was traveling with Sid
to present a “cutting-edge” message of what
God was doing among the Jews to wrap things up before Jesus’
return. But over the next few years, I was sad to see that
there was no difference between the ways of the large corporations
of the world, which vie for public attention and dollars,
and the way ours and a number of other prominent ministries
were being operated, replete with all questionable marketing
tactics.
Hoping to get away from the spotlight of the big-name
ministry, I decided to move our family back up to rural,
western New York, get a menial job, and volunteer some time
to work with the teens in our local church. Before long,
the pastor was asking for me to work with him full-time.
Shockingly, within a matter of months, the pastor read
his letter of resignation at the annual business meeting,
due to a personality conflict with a newly elected member
of the church board. In the weeks ahead, my in-laws and
different members of the congregation urged me to stay on
in the midst of the turmoil.
Pastoring that congregation over the next five years made
clear to me that something was profoundly different between
our lives and the life that was being experienced among
the disciples of the early church described in Acts 2 and
4. The immense contrast I was observing, not just in our
local church, but evident also as I traveled abroad, ended
up leaving me empty and frustrated after eight years of
ministry. In despair, I began to question the depth of my
“decision for Christ” in comparison to the response
of the early disciples, like Peter, who abandoned everything
to become a disciple.
Peter had said in Mark 10:28, “We have [literally]
left everything to follow you,” showing that he had
done what the Master commanded in Luke 14:33, “So
therefore, no one of you can be My disciple who does not
give up all his own possessions.”
Please understand, everything seemed fine on the surface.
The congregation was numerically growing, with the tithes
and offerings seemingly assuring that God was blessing us.
The outside of the cup appeared good, but inside, I wasn’t
being saved from a deep pit of selfish corruption within.
What Paul spoke to the Galatians about in chapter 5 seemed
to be the “norm” in Christianity, in one form
or another:
Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are:
immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities,
strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions,
factions, envyings, drunkenness, carousings, and things
like these, of which I forewarn you... that those who
practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of
God. (Galatians 5:19-21)
I had heard for years that until Jesus returned, the divisions
between Christians couldn’t be dealt with, and everybody
would just need to settle for a mediocre, mystical unity,
where you just do your best to tolerate those who are just
like you. I was beginning to see that a love for the world
permeated our lives. Why else would we all continue to hold
on to our own possessions, personal ambitions, and selfish
goals? Without fail, as a new trend would arise in the world,
a Christian version would soon follow — Christian
rap, Black-Belts for Jesus, and on and on. I often wondered
how Christianity could ever be a light to the world, when
in reality the world’s ways were leading us.
Somehow, I desperately needed to discover the root of
what was so wrong. I could no longer settle for the compromise
and selfish indulgence that I was filled with. I decided
to take a break from the full-time ministry, get a job working
with my hands, and discover the source of my lack of peace
and confidence.
It was during this period of soul-searching that I encountered
a couple who spoke to me about the common life they were
living in northern Vermont with other believers in the Son
of God. They were living just like the first disciples in
the book of Acts, sharing all things in common. This couple
was passing through our town on the way to visit some friends.
Their simplicity and honesty profoundly affected me, and
I couldn’t help but feel ashamed in their presence.
They obviously were experiencing the reality of the life
as disciples which the scriptures describe. I had a vague
sense that the life they lived together was what I had longed
for when I thought that I was making a decision for Christ
years before.
For a while, I was jealous and saddened that I hadn’t
discovered the same life in all my years of wandering in
Christianity. Looking back, I see that I needed more time
and circumstances to really come to terms with the poisonous
nature of my selfishness and the fruit it was bearing in
my life, before I would be ready to respond to the sacrifice
of Messiah’s life with an absolute, utter surrender
of my own life. I came to see that any true “decision
for Christ” had to be lived out daily in an environment
with other disciples, as the scriptures call for. In
time, I knew that I needed to come to terms with the evidence
I was being presented with. Could it be the answer to the
cry of my heart for all those years?
So, I traveled northward to view one of these communities
firsthand. At first, I was defensive of my own independent
“Jesus-and-me” existence. This sprang out from
all my years of mistrust, but in time I was taken aback
by what I found — the life of love and friendship
which I observed. It was more true to the Word than anything
I had ever seen. I’m not talking about something flashy
to the natural eye, or a show being put on, but I found
a genuine life shown by how they really loved each other,
the weak and the strong together. This assured me that they
could possess a true confidence (not like the plaguing doubt
which was my daily existence) that they had passed out of
death and into life.
This is what was so deeply missing in my life: being in
an environment where I was able to consistently love and
be loved like this. No wonder I lacked confidence and assurance.
I could see before my eyes the difference between the sinking
sand of independence that I was stuck in, and the living
demonstration of a life of loving which is the rock-solid
foundation laid by the apostles and prophets. Now, I
could see why Christianity had been in apostasy since the
time they left the foundation laid by Paul, John, and the
other apostles.
It was becoming clear that for the Son of God to actually
get what He prayed for, the desire of His heart, it would
have to be realized in believers who had completely abandoned
their independent lives, no longer living for themselves.
I was hearing now that He deserved a real, spiritual nation.
These disciples were faithful to live and speak the faith
I needed to hear to be obedient to the gospel to forsake
everything to follow Him together with those who had done
likewise.
Now I could see the gospel right there in Abraham’s
response to leave everything in obedience to God’s
voice in his heart. Paul told the Romans in chapter 4
that Abraham was the father to all who believe, and who
show that belief by walking in the same footsteps of obedience.
How could I have thought that I or Billy Graham or anyone
else could lead someone to make a “decision for Christ”
that would change his eternal destiny apart from hearing
a message that would call for the same obedience that Abraham
and the first disciples had?
If
you’re not satisfied, as I wasn’t, with the
results of the “decision for Christ” that you
and countless others might have made, or couldn’t
make because you knew it was too shallow, then please come
to one of our communities and see where you can walk in
the footsteps of our spiritual father, Abraham. You can
join us in forming a spiritual nation that will show the
world that God sent His Son, because they can see His life
of love and unity being fleshed out before their eyes.
Matthew 23:25
Luke 14:33; Hebrews 3:13; Ephesians 4:15-16
1 John 3:14
Ephesians 2:19-22
John 17:20-23
1 Peter 2:9; Ephesians 2:19-20
Genesis 12:1; 1 Peter 2:9
Matthew 28:19-20
Matthew 21:43; 24:14; John 17:23
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