My God Moment

I was in the 7^th grade, sitting in the Astrodome with my friends and peers from church.  We traveled there to hear Billy Graham.  The Dome was full of the faithful, the curious, the saved and the sinners.  I could smell popcorn and beer though the concessions stands were closed and the confession stands were open. There were many musical performances prior to the main event, warming up the crowd.  Graham finally emerged and the crowd went wild.  I was curious.  As he spoke in his distinct drawl about God loving even me, forgiving even me, I felt a warmth I had not felt before.  It was a glow, a sense of being worthwhile.  I knew I was a sinner.  My sins were easy for me to list and worry about.  I did not know it at the time, but I was depressed.  I felt worthless.  I felt unloved.  I felt incomplete.  All my teenage urges were overpowering and “sinful.”  The message that there was a supreme, supernatural being that loved me anyway was incredibly powerful.  I was so ready to hear such a sermon.  I was so needy of love. 

When Billy asked those who felt the spirit moving to stand, I stood.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  He asked us to make our way from wherever we were sitting to the floor of the Dome.  I left my group, wandered down ramps and emerged on the Astroturf with hundreds of other people.  Many were crying.  Many were smiling and laughing.  A man met me as I stepped on the turf.  He asked me what was going on and I told him I felt the spirit of the Lord, I wanted to let Jesus take my life.  He got my name, address and phone number, and I was dismissed.  I was now on the roster of converts.  I was now on the mailing list.

While others at the microphone continued to urge folks to let Jesus in and come on down, while gospel music blared, I wandered upstream back to my seat.  My peers looked at me either as though I had lost my mind or with a warm smile of approval.  Adult church sponsors came to sit by me and praise my new commitment, my conversion, and my born-againness. 

Life quickly returned to normal.  There was school, church, girlfriends, sports and I detected nothing different.  I prayed fervently.  Nothing happened.  I asked for things but did not get them.  I asked to be relieved of things that remained with me.  I began to feel more and more like the fool.  I kept all this buried deep within.  For the religiously fervent in the church I was now a real member, an insider.  For everyone else I was still just Bob.

So, after my 7^th grade God Moment in the Houston Astrodome at the feet of Billy Graham I have wondered if I am now officially “saved,” once and for always no matter what I do.  That makes no sense to me.  My prayers remained un-answered and un-recognized.  My depression lingers.  I may have been touched by God, but what I really wanted was a life-long embrace.  I remain un-hugged by the supernatural.  The God Moment came and went and life went on as usual. 

It must be my fault.  I hear God does not make mistakes.