The importance of the Gospel – in the broadest sense of the word – has never been lost on me since I was first saved and began to be saved 35 years ago. There have been times when I have briefly questioned myself over the depth of my commitment, but only briefly. It never lasts more than a minute or two.

I take no credit for this. God, I believe, orchestrated the events of my life and the nature of my character – introspective, somber, willful – from the womb. From being born crippled and all the emotional and psychological effects of that, to an emotionally unavailable father, to experiences and opportunities at every point in my life. My intense conviction about God and the Christian life could happen to anyone. Or everyone. I don’t know why it happened to me the way it did. I know, however, that it was and is an act of God in my life.

Part of it – and I have written about this elsewhere – is likely due to my experiences prior to coming to Christ at age 25, give or take a couple of weeks. I drank deeply at more than a few sinful wells, explored various religions and worldviews, and pursued most of the pleasures of the flesh that were available to me.

Nothing was worth living for until God drew me to Himself and saved me by His grace. I was a seemingly incurable nihilist, hedonist, and narcissist. Then the Holy Spirit enabled me to believe and, when that happened, everything changed. A few changed immediately, some took years, others are still in progress. But the direction of my life, abruptly detoured on a Tuesday evening long ago, has not changed.

From a world and existence that were devoid of meaning I suddenly found myself plunged into the most important thing. By comparison, the only important thing. The dreadful glory of the Gospel, the crushing weight of forgiveness, and the ineffable depths of God’s grace – the power of those truths uprooted me and shook me to the heart of my being.

I have wondered at times whether I was living the “normal Christian life” or was dancing on the line of fanaticism and insanity. My reason always told me the former; my experience and observation of others whispered the latter.

My zeal and passion for God and His purposes has not really waned over time; in fact, it has deepened. The more I have learned, the more convinced I become. And that strengthens my view of life.

When I consider how others live their lives and compare that to my own approach to living out what remains of my days, there seems to be a sharp contrast. Not always, of course, and not with every person: there are others no less committed than I and many perhaps much more. I don’t think I’ve ever been around someone who was actually much more committed than I but I must allow that the possibility exists.

Remember that I don’t take credit for this. I feel pulled and compelled to walk this path, reinforced by the emptiness of my life prior to God’s work in my life. Peter’s words have always been my own. When Jesus as the disciples if they were going to leave him just as the masses had, Peter replied, “To whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life.” I’ve looked elsewhere and found nothing. If Christianity isn’t true or real, there’s nothing that is true or real.

I don’t think I have more faith than others – actually, I don’t think I have very much faith at all, maybe just enough to be saved – but my beliefs seem to have a tighter grip on me than most. The things about the Gospel, the Bible, God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit of God – all these things a powerful, powerful truths. If these truths are deeply and stubbornly believed, life is different.

What I want to explore for awhile is why some see things differently and what happens when truth is practically or experientially believed. There seems to be a difference, for example, between believers who grew up in the church, came to faith at a young age, and remained on that path when they are compared with those who came to faith later after following a path of later regret.

That difference is connected to the “what” that I want to look at: the kind of life that grows out of having been forgiven of so much, so many things, so many times.

There are things associated with the difference that I know nothing about; I cannot write about them, obviously. But I want to talk about what I have seen, what I have thought about, and what troubles me daily. I’ll start that with the next post.


2 Cor 1:13