My 1 Story

I was born to a 15 year old girl in 1964. As she was too young to take care of me I lived with my grandmother until I was 4 years old when she was hospitalized for the long term effects of diabetes and eventually died. I went to live with one of my biological mother’s sisters along with her husband and two children (both older). I was never adopted officially because my dad didn’t feel like my mom let him be a father to me – she was probably protecting me because of my rough past. Subsequently, I grew up rather independent and didn’t open myself up – though I was often loud and disruptive. I guess I was afraid to get too close to people – fearing they might hurt me like I was hurt by my grandmother leaving me.

My 1 Story involves a family that my wife and I met 1 day in the parking lot of a local McDonalds.
As we pulled in my wife noticed a man under the hood of his van, looking as if he needed help. She said to me, “You should go see if he needs help.” And of course, I sighed and hesitated to get out of our van. Finally as I approached the man I noticed four people inside their van, his wife and three children. I asked him if he needed a jump start. Confused he said, “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” And one thing I can tell you about myself is, I am not a mechanic, I know very little about motors if anything at all. So I got my cables and said, “Let’s try to jump start it.” No luck. It would start but then die.
Then out of my mouth came,” It must be the alternator.” What!? How did I know that was the problem? I didn’t. Then I knew it must be God, not me, so I just followed God like I knew what I was doing.
By this time my wife had introduced herself and was telling his wife and children about the church we were attending at that time. Then God says, through me, “I have my tools in my van (which was also not normal, these are tools that I never use) let me get them and I will remove the alternator so we can have it checked out.” What!? I remember my wife even looking stunned, asking me as I got my tools, “Do you really know what your doing?” My reply being, “Uhh.., I guess so.”
After about ten to fifteen minutes I had this mans alternator in my hands. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Then God said through me, again, “Ok, let’s go to the parts store to have it checked.” You can have alternators checked? What!? How did I know this? When we got there I walked in, and with all the confidence God had put in me I said, “I need to have this checked.” The man behind the counter said, “No problem.” Taking it into the back room, he soon returned saying it was dead and needed to be replaced. He offered a new one for $ 140 dollars or a rebuilt one for $90 dollars. My mouth dropped open and about that time, the man I was helping (whose name was Greg) said, “I don’t have that kind of money.” And at the same time I could hear God telling me, “Buy it for him .Buy it for him.” So, out of my mouth came, “That’s o.k. I got it.” What!? I knew then for sure it was, most certainly, without a doubt, God doing this because that was just not like me. I had always been on a tight budget. I would help people from time to time but $90 dollars was part of our rent money. But I was also smart enough to know God must have a bigger plan.
When we got back from the parts store, my wife, his wife and children were all eating ice cream and acting like old friends. I proceeded to act as the mechanic, putting the alternator back on without any knowledge, then we jumped it again and the van cranked right up and stayed running. Praise God!! I knew it had to be God. So we all gathered together to pray and thank God and give him all the praise.
The next week Greg and his whole family came to church and committed their life to Jesus. At that time I thought, ok God, I now see why you used me and gave me this knowledge because you wanted to make this connection to Greg and his family through my wife and I. Wow. God is a good God. It all still amazes me.
End of story, right. Not quite.
Greg and his family kept coming to church off and on until about a year after we met them, Greg became ill due to diabetes complications and quickly passed and went home to be with the Lord. What!? It all happened so fast and then it all became so clear to me that God really is the Alpha and Omega. He already knew what he had planned for Greg before my wife and I ever met him and his family.
I want to thank you Father God for using my wife and I, for giving us the knowledge to help you help Greg. In Jesus name, Amen
We still remain friends with Greg’s wife and kids to this day.
I just want to end this story by saying,” Please never pass up that chance God is placing in front of you. This might be your 1 day to be his mechanic.”

My1Story is proof that God has a plan for us and it is “HIS” timing and not ours. Even though I went to church as a young boy with the family, I never really could grasp the concept that Jesus, a person that lived thousands of years ago could know me or care for me. I learned at a very young age of 5 that it was much less painful on my body to lie to my parents than to tell the truth. I never felt very good about myself and lacked self esteem through most of my life. Most of my problems I blamed on my three older sisters for many years because of how they treated me and my Mother never knew what was going on behind her back. I always felt alone and that nobody really cared about me or even loved me. As typical my Father worked a lot, but there were a few times he would take me to work with him on Saturdays which became treasured moments. When I was to start High School, my parents decide to move closer to where my Father worked. This was devastating to my low self esteem, because what few friends I did I have, I lost. Starting High School in a new school, and a new environment, as we moved from a small rural community to the city, was overwhelming on me. I became angry at my folks and withdrew even more. Then my Father died suddenly when I was in my sophomore year just before Christmas.

Door Number 3

Death has always been difficult for me. The loss of a friend or a loved one has been a source of intense emotional pain. 9/11 left me with a sense of emptiness that I just can’t put into words. Even Easter Sunday brings a flow of tears as I imagine the suffering and sense of being so alone that our Christ experienced.

I was raised Catholic and really thought I understood the whole God and Jesus thing. I followed my Dad to church every Sunday and Holy day of obligation. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I met my wife in my sophomore year of high school and things began to change. I would visit her church and youth group from time to time and began to notice it was quite a bit different than what I was used to experiencing on Sunday morning. Once married, we had to decide what to do about Sunday mornings and thought we had come up with the most practical decision possible, we would go to the Catholic church one week and the Baptist church the next week. I felt like we had come up with the best solution to the Sunday morning dilemma. That is where God started to work on me. At the end of every Baptist service the pastor would have an altar call, and every week at this time I would get butterflies in my stomach and this feeling that I needed to give in and go forward. I never did because I would come up with all of the reasons why I couldn’t, mostly around embarrassment or how my Dad would feel. We did start a change; however, we started getting more involved in the Baptist church with a Sunday school class and other weekly activities. We then moved to a small town north of Chicago and began looking for a Catholic and a Baptist church we could attend. Needless to say, it was rather easy to find a Catholic church but we could not find what we expected in a Baptist church. God then introduced us to a phenomenal person through my wife’s work. She invited us to church one week and through many hours of debating we gave in and visited. What we found was a welcoming group of people who took us in and really began to be a family to us. That became our church home, and we were now a one church family. The butterflies and feelings only got stronger. We really got involved with Sunday school, a small group, and I was in two men’s groups. I felt I was doing all the right things, but I could not get rid of those feelings that there was something else. When people would ask if I had given my life to Christ, I would say of course because I grew up in a church environment and have always gone to church. I battled with that question every time it was asked because I doubted my answer, but I could not change the picture everyone had of me. It was the issue of embarrassment again. One Sunday evening I realized that I had left my Bible at the church and planned to go pick it up during the week after work one day. On Monday morning as I was taking my son to child care, which was near the church, I decided to pick up my Bible then. As I pulled into the parking lot I made one of those promises we make with God; it went something like this. “God I will go talk to the pastor if he is there when I get my Bible.” I thought I was pretty safe because it was before 8am and he normally did not come in until 9am. I found my Bible and was about to head out of the church when I remembered the promise, so I went to the office and found he was the only person there. I had to keep my promise, so I went in and started to relay this story to him and found myself praying for my salvation. The butterflies were replaced with an appetite to learn and know Him more. This chapter of my story ended with God crushing another belief I had from my childhood about baptism. The Sunday before my family moved to Colorado I found myself being baptized in front of this family where God turned my religion into a relationship.

My version of what Tim Whipple said in front of us all the other day is this: I only have one story, it just depends which part you want to hear. I would like to share part of it with you, and I’ll try my very best to use the short version, which I’m not very good at.

I was very fortunate to grow up in home that nurtured spiritually as well as physically. I remember having my name in the church bulletin for memorizing scripture and winning Bible drills. From an early age I knew which Bible characters did what and quite a bit about their significance. I was taught right from wrong, I wanted to “walk in the light”. I understood at an early age that I wanted to work for Jesus, as my 8 year old self put it.

I stand there like an idiot, hands folded behind my back, feeling completely useless. My brother, a physician, is discussing medical matters with a neurologist, both of them cool and detached. A monitor beeps quietly, almost politely. I catch a few words here and there, all of them ominous, none of them comforting or the least bit encouraging. (Ever notice that in medical parlance you never hear adjectives such as “massive” or “severe” used to describe “recovery” or “improvement”?)

When I was in high school I had the privilege of being involved in some great church youth groups that gave me lots of opportunities and experiences. One of the highlights was always our annual Choir/Mission Trip. I can’t say that I always, if ever, went for the right reasons. Most of the time it was to get out of town, see new places and be with my friends.

I’m one of the fortunate ones. God, belief, church have always been a part of my life. As a young child, I remember always going to church with my family. There were men and women in my church who poured their lives into mine, helping me to understand the teachings of Jesus and – more importantly – helping me understand how Jesus’ teachings were relevant to my life and my way of living.