Isaac Asimov led me to Christ.

Well, sort of...

In spring of 1982, I didn't even believe in God. After comparing what I read in the Bible to the church I had attended from my youth, my opinion of religion was that it was an invention of man to cover up his fear of death or to use it as a tool of oppression. The more I read about religion and philosophy, the more entrenched my lack of belief became. The thought of death did not frighten me. In fact, waking up is the hardest part of my day and the thought of an eternal sleep sounded pretty good. I was perfectly comfortable with my belief that I would someday go back into the earth, be recycled, and sleep forever.

But one day my life was changed. Bill, my best friend and roommate at the University of Rhode Island, walked into our room with a book by Isaac Asimov. He proceeded to expound on one of Mr. Asimov's theories that the universe was a circle and that a spaceship blasting off this planet would eventually return to the other side of the planet because the universe is a circle.

"Did you pay money for that book?" I asked him. "That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! When was the last time he was at the end of the universe! Did he see the dead end sign or a big brick wall at the end of the universe?"

My tirade went on for a few seconds and Bill left the room, probably wondering what my problem was. I flopped on my bed steaming mad. "These idiot scientists think they're so smart. Where do they come up with this stuff?" I thought.

As I stewed about scientists, God began to open my understanding. I began to look at the walls of my small dormitory room and to consider the complexity of the universe. At this time, I was enrolled in a course titled "Zoology 111" which turned out to be a cellular biology course with a big focus on chemistry. I was spending four hours a night studying that one class just to maintain a failing average. I didn't learn much about Zoology, but one thing I did learn is that life (in a chemistry sense) is pretty complex. And the all encompassing universe was even more mind boggling. I considered the light switch in the room and how it was connected to the wiring, which was connected to the flourescent fixture, which somehow got power from the power company. I looked at how the concrete blocks were all of the same size and were evenly separated and held together by the mortar. And just as I understood that the simple building I was sitting in was thoughtfully constructed from an architect's plan, I understood that the universe itself had an architect, that there was no way that this universe and everything in it (down to the smallest cell) happened by a mere accident.

At that moment I knew there was a God. Not the ambiguous "Force" of Star Wars. Not a "Mother Nature." But a Creator. A Supreme, All Powerful, Engineer of the universe and all that was within it, including me.

But I didn't yet know exactly who God was....

I'd already determined that my second semester at the University of Rhode Island was going to be my last for a little while. My career plans changed about once every 17 seconds (from wanting to be a diesel mechanic in Alaska one minute, to being a serf in Scotland the next), and I couldn't see continuing to spend money on education when the desired result was so unclear.

So, I decided to quit. Or, withdraw from classes, as it was euphamistically termed.

I would have finished the second semester, but, due to circumstances beyond my control, I had enrolled in a number of very difficult classes (my scholastic advisor decided to take a vacation the week I was registering for classes and left me alone to pick my next semester's courses by a flip of the coin). When it became apparent that I was going to fail at least two classes even if I studied my brains out, I went to the registrar and found out the last day I could withdraw from school and not have my grades count in case I ever wanted to resume my studies. I was told the day before spring break was the last day, which gave me about two months which I spent visiting my friends and arguing about the existence of God with everyone I met.

After I moved back home, I got a job at a factory across the street from my house and got into the dull routine of working and sleeping. I continued to seek God and to know who he was. I read the Bible, I read philosophy and religion books, and I prayed. One day as I sat at my desk, I put my feet up, leaned back in the chair and said, "God, I don't know who's right and who's wrong. I just want the truth."

Some time later I got a call from a friend who asked me if I was still planning to bicycle across the country. In junior high school, I'd seen a presentation of a man who'd bicycled across the country and it had fascinated me. I was sick of my hometown (as I found out, most high school kids are -- no matter where they're from) and I wanted to get out of that little microcosm and see the world. I told all my friends about wanting to cross the country by bicycle and took quite a few long day trips. But that dream had been swallowed up by the day-to-day life of adulthood.

"No, I think I've outgrown that dream," I said.

But after I'd hung up the phone, I began to think about it. I started to make my bed and looked outside my bedroom window at the old factory where I worked. I started to think, "Why not? When is there going to be a better time?" I decided right then to bicycle across the country.

No one really believed me when I announced that I was going to bicycle to California. But as I began to acquire cross country bicycling equipment (a Kabuki 12-speed touring bike, Cannondale racks and panniers, a spoke wrench, a crank puller, toe clips, a tent, a sleeping bag, and a Bell helmet) my mom began to get more nervous. The turning point came when I put a "For Sale" sign on my Volkswagen Bug.

"Are you really going to ride your bicycle to California?" my mom asked one day.

"Yep," I answered.

"I'll get you a plane ticket," she offered. "You can relax, look at the clouds."

"That's not the point," I said. "It's the adventure, seeing everything.....You know...."

"Well, what if I get you a bus ticket?" she said.

Eventually, people accepted the fact that I was going to do this, or at least give it a good try. I wasn't an athlete by any stretch of the imagination and I'd never been camping in my life, but the thought of a few months to just think about what I was going to do with my life and to see and experience things I never had before intrigued me.

During this time my grandmother who had cancer passed away. I stayed a couple of extra weeks for the funeral. During this time I met many of my relatives from Canada who hadn't seen me since I'd been an infant. I will always remember one woman's exclamation. "You're so lucky," she said. "You are young and you have your whole life ahead of you, and you're so talented, and so smart, and you are going to do so well in life, etc..."

I remember thinking, "Who is this woman talking about? She wouldn't say that if she were inside this body." Three years earlier, I hadn't known the meaning of the word "anxieties," when my friend's cousin described them and explained why he drank and used drugs. But at that point I knew exactly what they were! I wasn't using drugs or drinking, but I could tell you all about anxieties.

The most difficult part of the trip, geography-wise, was figuring out which road to take out of the city. After that it was pretty straightforward. I went through western Massachusetts, upstate New York, into Canada for a few days, across Michigan, and over Lake Michigan (on a ferry that is, from Luddington to Kewanee, Wisconsin).

It was somewhere in the farm country of Wisconsin that Jesus showed me that He was God and that there was no other Savior beside Him. My belief in Jesus Christ didn't come in quite the same reasoned, intellectual way that I came to understand the existence of God. It was actually quite the opposite. There was no vision or voices as Apostle Paul saw and heard on the road to Damascus, but it was just as powerful to me.

I'd just finished fixing a flat tire under the only tree I could see for miles. It was out on one of those back country roads through the corn fields and you could see the waves of heat rising off the road. It was the middle of the day and the sun was beating down. The pavement was so hot that it would burn your feet right through your sneakers.

As I sat there under the tree, I began to think about God as I had many, many, many, many times before. And it was right then that God spoke to me in that small, still voice as He spoke to Elijah in I Kings 19:12, and showed me that the Apostles had not died for nothing. They were killed for their belief and for having preached that Jesus Christ rose from the dead. They knew what they saw. No one would allow themselves to be killed if they weren't absolutely sure of what they had witnessed.

That was it. Not very airtight from an intellectual standpoint, but Jesus had given me something that surpassed reason. He had given me faith. I now understand that we cannot please God without faith (Hebrews 11:6) and that the very faith that we have is given to us by God (Ephesians 2:8) but at that moment, however, all I knew was that Jesus was the only God. From that moment on, I have never looked for an answer regarding my faith outside of Jesus Christ. I knew there was more to learn, but I also knew the truth I had asked God for was in Jesus Christ.

There are a lot of people who would consider the story finished in the previous section and who'd say, "Welcome to the club, brother. You made it! You're saved!" However, there's more to being a Christian than an intellectual knowledge of Jesus Christ. In Luke 6:46 Jesus said, "And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?" And again in Matthew 7:21, Jesus says, "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. 22 Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? 23 And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity. 24 Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:" But this is another Bible study. Suffice it to say that while I believed that Jesus was, in fact, the Savior, I was not yet a Christian.

I finally made it to California after two and a half months. It had been my intention to bicycle to San Diego and spend the winter with my aunt and uncle there. I hate the cold weather and the thought of escaping the New England winter was yet another benefit of my travels. However, I ended up living with another aunt and uncle in South Lake Tahoe, California, where it snows three feet at a time. I remember standing in the middle of a snowstorm one day while waiting for the bus to my job at Harrah's Hotel. It was snowing so hard you couldn't see the other side of the street and I was up to my calves in slush and snow wondering how I had ended up there.

God continued to knock at my heart, and I continued to straddle the fence. There was still an emptiness in my life and the "anxieties" were still hovering around. There were two experiences in particular that gave me some insight into my overall direction.

There's not a lot to do in Lake Tahoe if you're not into giving away your money to the casinos. My friends and family would ask me if I gambled. I told them, "Are you kidding? They didn't build these giant hotels by giving money away to people."

So, I did a LOT of reading. I love to read, so that wasn't the worst thing in the world. However, two books that caught my attention from their descriptions on the book flap turned out to be autobiographies of men who had descended into a pit of mental illness and were ultimately diagnosed as schizophrenics. What worried me was that I could identify with these men throughout the book and it only became apparent in the second half of the book that there was something seriously wrong with them.

The first book, I could sort of shrug off as coincidence. But when I got into the second one (about a man's cross-country motorcycle trip and his thoughts and experiences) I had to stop and examine where I was headed in life. I truly believe that this was a warning from God. The book was about 1,100 pages long, and I was right in there with the author up until page 750 with exclamations like, "Yeah, I know what he's talking about!" and "I know exactly where he's coming from..."

Even scarier is the fact that I read these books within a couple of months of each other, almost one right after the other, and they both followed the same pattern: identification with the authors, reading of their slow, subtle descent into schizophrenia, and an observation that they were somehow not quite recovered.

I moved back to live with my family in Rhode Island around this time and had the summer I'd always pictured as the "perfect summer." I had a nice car, a good job, and a circle of good friends. I spent my time playing tennis, going to the ocean, dining at my favorite restaurants, reading, writing, bicycling, deep sea fishing, visiting friends and relatives, and generally doing whatever I pleased.

And, of course, I was empty and miserable.

It was about this time that I was reading through the Old Testament and read the Book of Eccelesiastes. That was the first book in the Bible that ever jumped out and made sense to me! I was in the same boat as the "Preacher" in Ecclesiastes. I'd tried everything I knew to bring myself contentment to no avail. I continued to pray and to seek direction from God.

Almost every Saturday I'd get in my car and drive about a 20 mile radius around my house scouting for a church to attend on Sunday. I knew the church I'd grown up in wasn't teaching the Bible, but I knew that somewhere out there must be someone teaching it because Jesus said that his words would never pass away. I had no reference to judge by, though, and many churches I attended said that the others were wrong which just confused me more. I continued to read the Bible and wondered where the people it talked about in the Book of Acts had gone to. This pattern continued for about two months, but I never found a church that was "home." For the most part, I was like the invisible man in all of the churches I attended. I felt very out of place everywhere I went, like an intruder in someone else's home, and no one ever pulled me aside to speak to me about Christ and His message of salvation although I was desperate to hear it.

One day while I was reading through the Book of Acts I read in chapter 2 how people were baptized in Jesus' name. Then I read in Acts chapter 8 about an evangelist named Philip who baptized a man in the desert near Gaza. When the man wanted to be baptized, Philip inquired about his belief in Jesus Christ before he would baptize him. Philip said, "If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest." To which the man from Ethiopia replied, "I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God."

Jesus was enlightening me. First it showed that people were baptized in Jesus' name, as opposed to the titles "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," as is customary in most churches. Secondly, it taught me that I needed to be baptized after believing in Christ, as opposed to being sprinkled with water as an infant. I also saw how baptism was performed by people going into the water and being fully submerged throughout the Bible. There were no examples of infants being baptized anywhere in the Bible. Right then, I knew I needed to be baptized as an adult having accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior.

My quest to be baptized began at a small church in my hometown which I frequented when I hadn't been inspired by my Saturday evening church hunt (or wasn't going to the ocean or playing tennis on Sunday).

As anyone who has been convicted of their sin and has determined in their heart to go up to the altar to seek salvation knows, it is a pretty scarry thing to do. You're already nervous, you know people are looking at you, and it is a generally humbling thing for human beings, who aren't so taken with being humble. I prayed, got up the courage to walk down the aisle, and prayed with one of the elders at the altar. I was waiting for the invitation to be baptized, but one never came. After church I waited until the pastor had shaken about every hand before I approached him. I told him that I had been reading about baptism and that I wanted to be baptized myself. I was ready to go into the water right then, but something completely unexpected happened.

I had enlisted in the United States Navy a few days earlier and was scheduled to leave in five days, so I told the pastor that I wanted to be baptized as soon as possible. He asked me where I was going and I told him that I was going to boot camp in Great Lakes, Illinois, and later I would be attending school in Pensacola, Florida. I'll never forget what the pastor told me then. He said, "Well, we really don't like to do that. When you get down to Pensacola, just find yourself a good church down there."

That was pretty much the end of the conversation. I was polite as I said good bye, but inside I was mad. "We don't like to do what? See people saved? Allow people to repent of their sins?" I was thinking as I slammed the door of my little Datsun B-210. It had taken a lot for me to get to the point where I could ask that question and I felt as if the pastor had just blown off my concern about my salvation.

What I later found out is that the church believed, like many others, that baptism is not essential for salvation (even though Jesus commanded it). They look at baptism as more of a ritual to join their particular denomination, which means it is harder to get into their denomination than it is to get into the kingdom of God! This church stated in it's doctrinal statement that it was essential to baptize by total immersion in water, but what does it matter, I thought, if baptism isn't even necessary at all?

So, five days later I was on the plane heading to Chicago. I went through the Navy's basic and apprenticeship training at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center and continued to live a double life. I realize now that it was because I did not have the power of the Holy Ghost in my life to resist sin, so wherever my friends were going was where I went. I had no power to follow my personal convictions.

In the school there were pictures of every type of ship in the Navy. The ugliest, in my opinion, was the Newport class LST (Amphibious Tank Landing Ship). There was also talk about the different duty stations. The least glamorous of all was Norfolk, Virginia. So, of course, I was sent to the USS LaMoure County (LST-1194) which is homeported at the Little Creek Amphibious Base in Norfolk, Virginia.

I arrived there on January 7th. During my first week on the ship, everyone in my division invited me to go out partying with them, but I was determined to resist and do what was right in the eyes of Jesus Christ. Throughout the week, I spent my evenings reading the Bible and scouring every bulletin board, flyer, and phone book in search of a church to attend. However, toward the end of the week I was running out of resistance and was almost ready to accept one of the many invitations to go out with the crew.

Then, on Thursday of the same week I was invited out to a church off base. They had a Bible study and fellowship gathering on Saturday evening and I was invited to attend. I was given a telephone number to call for a ride if I needed one.

On Saturday I did some errands, but that phone number was in my mind all day. At about 5:00 p.m. I went to the phone booth to call the church and asked for a ride, and within just a few minutes someone was there to pick me up. I knew that I was on the verge of a big answer in my life.

The church was just a small, unimpressive storefront building on 16th Bay and Oceanview Boulevard, but the outside of the church did not deter me. On the inside I was warmly greeted. I met a man who introduced himself to me as Ed Thomas and we sat in a small lounge area behind the chapel. He asked me about my goals and job in the Navy and I told him that I was temporarily assigned there until my orders for school in Pensacola arrived. We chatted for a few minutes and I asked him about his occupation, thinking that he was also in the Navy.

"I'm the pastor here," he said.

"Oh," I replied, a little surprised. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Then we began to talk about the scriptures. In about thirty seconds we were talking about the plan of salvation, and specifically about baptism in Jesus' name for the remission of sins. After a couple of questions I asked him how to go about being baptized. We walked over to the baptism tank on the platform and after a brief Bible study I was getting changed.

I remember praying as I changed into baptismal clothes, "God, I don't understand everything I've just been taught, but I know this is right."

When I came out of the baptism tank I knew I was saved. God had answered my prayer for the truth that I'd prayed many years ago.

I was excited about the gospel and wanted everyone to have what I had. I invited to church all the men who had been inviting me to go out partying with them. But a very strange thing happened. They told me that I was wrong about my belief in baptism, my belief that one had to live a holy lifestyle in order to go to heaven. They told me that the church I was going to was wrong and that I should come out to their church! I couldn't believe it. A week ago they had been inviting me to go partying when I was desperately seeking to be saved. Now, when I had found what I had searched for, they were inviting me out to their churches.

That was the beginning of my realization that this is not a popular message. The truth of the gospel has never been popular. It is no different today than in the days of Noah. Jesus said, "Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." (Matthew 7:14) I want to be on that narrow way!

It took a few weeks to sink in, but I remember the day that the lights came on and I realized that my anxieties had vanished, that I was not concerned about my career path, and that I was content and in my "right mind" so to speak. I realized that God had answered my prayer in a way that I could not have imagined.

I have been a member of Christian Fellowship Church Ministries, International, ever since and have continued to work with our founder, Pastor L.R. Davis, at our headquarters church in Waukegan, Illinois. My love for Jesus Christ and the truth of His word continues to grow and I look forward to my home in heaven. I know there's still a lot to do right here, but my proverbial bags are packed. There is nothing more important than being ready for heaven. I look forward to seeing you there.