In extreme western Ballard County, Kentucky, overlooking the Mississippi River is the site of an old town and Army fort, Fort Jefferson. Although the town and any remnants of the fort are long gone, on the site stands a gleaming white cross. A small dirt road takes you from U.S. Highways 62/51 to the base of the cross that overlooks the convergence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. There’s no state park, no attractions, and not even a paved road – there’s just a cross. Each time I think about the day I found this place I stand amazed at its simplicity. There were no highway signs, no tourist information stations – there was just a cross.
I was not brought up in a Christian home and did not have the benefit of really knowing who God was. My father was career Army and as a family, we moved from duty station to duty station about every four years. Although both parents claimed to believe in God, there was no evidence of God in our home. We didn’t attend church regularly, there was no Bible reading, and no prayer. There was no such thing as family devotions, a family altar, nor even any reference to God or the Bible in any of the decorations that adorned our houses. Looking back at my past, I clearly remember visiting family in Altus, Oklahoma and my great grandmother, Edith Mae Craft, asking me if I wanted to pray for a meal; my response to her was “I’d love to, but I don’t know how.” I believe I was around ten or eleven at that time. Sometime later and while I was 13, I asked my mother why we didn’t go to church like one of my neighborhood friends. Her response was was that she wanted me to make up my own mind about God when I became an adult and did not want me to feel forced to follow what she believed.
I came to know the Lord as my personal Saviour while I was eighteen years old and while attending at a community college tied to the University of Southern Mississippi. At the time, I was a music theory and composition major and admittedly was struggling with a lot of issues – including spirituality, sexuality, alcoholism, depression, and even my own identity. Although legally an adult at the age of eighteen, I was not prepared for college life. Had it not been for one of my college professors, Dr. James Whitman I might never have heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ nor accepted the Jesus Christ as my personal Saviour. He didn’t use a bunch of fancy words, discuss church doctrines, or even point to all my shortcomings and failures. He simply taught me how God’s love for me was demonstrated on the cross. I will never forget the five verses Dr. Whitman used to show me God’s love and grace:
- Romans 3:10 – As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one:
- Romans 3:23 – For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;
- Romans 6:23 – For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
- John 3:16 – For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
- Romans 10:10 – For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.
There’s nothing fancy or magical about the five verses he shared with me. I will never forget that Friday evening of August 26th, 1988, with a conversation that began in the piano practice room and continued into my dormitory lobby as I struggled with the very real spiritual war that was being waged in my heart and mind. There was no requirement that Dr. Whitman spend his own personal time trying to reach students. He was not there as a college professor that night, but he was there as a man that was concerned with my eternal soul. He was there to bear witness and as an answer to my broken prayers. He was there to share the beautiful and simple message of the cross; the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus as atonement for my sins as a gift that all I needed to do was to accept it through faith. That night, as we knelt down in prayer and I gave my heart to the Lord Jesus Christ, I felt that a tremendous weight had been lifted. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel empty or alone.
Anyone that knows me knows that I’d like to say that from that point in my life it was all sunshine and roses, but it hasn’t been. Unfortunately the church I began attending didn’t have a strong discipleship program and I did not remain in the Perkinston/Hattiesburg area much longer. At the end of the semester I joined the U.S. Army and spent nearly seven years serving nearly all over the globe. Somewhere between basic training and my medical discharge in 1996 I returned back to the lifestyle I had become accustomed to while a child living at home. It was not until 2006 that I decided to invest as much time in my personal discipleship as I did in my pursuit of higher education; if you want to see real spiritual progress in your walk with God, make Him a priority in your life.
My two year old daughter and namesake of my great grandmother, Edith is laying on the couch taking her morning nap. Having lived through everything I have, I fully understand Joshua’s proclamation: And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD (Joshua 24:15). What my wife and I are doing with her is a matter of this decision Joshua made back then – a deliberate effort made to make God the center of our home. She will be raised knowing that Sunday we go to church as a family, Wednesday night we gather at the church to study and pray with one another, and that God is real. I do not want her to ever say she doesn’t know how to pray or that we didn’t want to teach her out of fear of forcing religion on her. I want her to know the peace that God can bring into a life rather than the loneliness, desperation and emptiness that the world offers.
