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HE LEFT THE NINETY AND NINE...Luke 15:3I I am not a great orator or speaker. Growing up I always felt dirty, like washing was futile. I was afraid of my own shadow (for indeed it was sinful). I was small and underdeveloped until I was about 17. Sickly, developing an ulcer by 16. I never saw my mother but twice before she died when I was the age of 18. I lived with my grandmother (paternal) because she was afraid my dad, her son, would kill me. He almost did once. No wonder I doubted my father was indeed my father for most of my life (at least until I was 30). I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Wharf rats were a nuisance. Sex seethed throughout the neighborhood like a fog. Belly dancer, gay, whore, suspected incest and known incest, exhibitionist, rapist, and weaved in among these were good law abiding people and a few real Christians. I was saved in 1964. I never missed a church service for several years. Then I got derailed. They (the church) were teaching from the Bible which was a great help. But they were teaching an error along with the truth. They taught one could be sanctified and become perfect. I realized I was not perfect. Doubts began to flood my mind. Because I had always been weak and defeated, Satan had no trouble in convincing me not to be a hypocrite and quit going to church because it was obvious that I was not able to be perfect. Then the sin of the 'old neighborhood,' like a giant tidal wave poured upon me. I had to have a third of my stomach removed from the years of abusing the ulcer with liquor and drugs. A few years after that I got married. Our actions made marriage a disgrace. Despite this on the surface we appeared respectable and had two children. We were married for 11 yrs. During that time I tried to take the kids to church. She called me a radical. In my heart I knew they needed to learn about God. My heart was so burdened with sin and guilt I had problems sleeping. The conflicts in our marriage created painful stomach problems and almost constant headaches. When my wife first told me she would file for a divorce when she had the money, reality began to set in for me. I had lost my relationship with Christ and now the only thing worth living for was threatened. The divorce was final 4/16/82. For the first 2.6 yrs after the divorce, the kids stayed with me. My wife knew I was close to a nervous breakdown and felt having the kids to care for would help. It did. Of course, that also gave her plenty of free time to date. Then, my job ended and I was transferred to South Carolina. She would not let the kids go with me. Then I really went downhill. I had lost everything. There I was 500 miles away from home. Alone. I drank heavily and many nights I cried myself to sleep. I had lost God, wife and children. I had nothing. I lost my job and my car. I remember standing on the brick streets of Wilmington, NC as I headed downtown to the bars. The sky was black with night over me. Ahead over the water and mast of ships was a setting sun. I stopped there, tears streaming down my face and looked toward heaven, "God! Where are you? I can't find you! I hope I will before I die." I could feel death hovering over me, smothering me. I had been robbed twice, first with a knife flashing in my face and another time with a gun pointed at me. I went back to South Carolina. There through a lady friend, I was introduced to a man who was divorced. He was older than me. That began my years as a "white slave." He, being a sinner, a retired Marine, and an alcoholic. For six years I cleaned the house trailer, cooked every meal, wash every piece of clothes for us both, did all the grocery shopping, wrote out his checks for his bills and signed his name, moved the yard and drove for him when he was too drunk to drive. He called me everything but a white man. Even his friends got onto to him because of how mean he treated me. There was no sex involved. I was caught in a vice. I had no car or job. I had to take the mental abuse to have a roof over my head. Then it happened. Remember the parable of the prodigal son? Well, I was further gone than him. I was just like a dumb sheep that had wandered off, fell over the cliff into the valley below full of briars and bushes. You should also recall how Christ left the ninety and nine to go get that lamb that had strayed. I was too far gone to think clearly. Early in the spring of 1990 I had a problem with my blood pressure. I felt like I was leaving my body. When my landlord realized I was truly sick, he took me to the doctor. My blood pressure was 110/195. They tried to tell me I had blood pressure disease. They gave me medicine. I took the medicine for about three or four weeks. I had an allergic reaction to it, so I quit taking it. A short time after that Christ came to me. "Go out and spread the gospel." I was stunned to say the least. All those years of missing Him, He was answering that prayer I made on those brick streets of the port city of Wilmington. You ask why I was stunned. I thought all hope was gone. Yet, all those years, down in my heart I longed for Him. I just wanted back inside the fold. He said, "Spread the gospel." I have never been so full of fear as I was at that moment. You have just read how I was as a young man growing up. And HE wanted ME to spread the gospel! It was more than I was ready for. I began praying, constantly, and reading my Bible. Every time I would read of Jesus in the Gospel's my heart would leap within me so hard I would gasp for breath. Tear's blinded my eyes. What does it say, he that is forgiven of much, loves equally as much. I prayed steadily for about three months, then He opened the way for me to come back home to Tennessee. In 1995, the Holy Sprit confirmed my calling....2Tim.4:2. "Preach the word..." In 1997 I was working on a job as a customer service representative. In March, 1997 I received a call, "Hello, my name is Rev. ............................... I would like to update my change of address and reactivate my account. I said, "Oh, you are a preacher!" He replied that he was and asked me if I was a Christian. I told him I was and that God had called me to preach, but I had been told I could not. When I told him why I was told I could not, because I am divorced, he agreed that I couldn't. I told him he had called in to change his address, so I would have it. I asked it would be ok if I wrote to him. He said that would be fine. After several months of writing him he began to see things differently. He told me he had looked in a directory he had for someone in my area that could help me. He lived in Kansas. I, in Kingsport, TN. He told me he had called a man and left a message on his answering machine. Several weeks went by and I never heard anything, so I dismissed it from my mind. Not much later a man came to the church that I was attending to present his prison ministry. There were approximately 30 to 40 people there that night. The prison missionary sat in the pew directly in front of me. (What are the odds on that, 40 to 1?) A member of the church approached him to introduce himself. The missionary arose to greet him. Then, the member asked him to meet me. I stood and shook his hand and introduced myself. It was about time for the service to start and the missionary, Mike Brown, started to walk away to begin preparation. "Let me know which way you are going when you leave, I may want to follow you so I can do what God called me to do," I said. "What did God call you to do," Mike asked. "To spread the gospel" I replied. "Oh" Mike said as the walked away. About two weeks later I couldn't get the prison ministry off my mind, so I called Mike at home. "Hello." Is this Mike Brown?" I inquired. Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?" he asked. I went on to refresh his memory about his coming to my church, etc. "I was wondering if I could go with you to the prison," I asked. There was a silence. Then he spoke, "I am sorry, I almost dropped the phone. I must tell you I have went to hundreds of churches to raise support and you are the first person to ever call me and ask to go with me. I couldn't believe my ears." So we made plans to meet about two weeks later. In the meantime, I called the Pastor in Kansas. We talked and then I told him about the missionary coming to our church to present his prison ministry, that I had contacted him and would begin going to a prison with him the next week. "Really," he said, "What is his name?" "Mike Brown" I told him. He answer sounded excited as he ask, "Is he with a mission board?" I told him he was and the name of it. "That is the man I called and left a message on his answering machine to call you." Then I saw how God had steered me to Mike. If the preachers tape player in Kansas had not quit working he would not have called me. Is it not wonderfully how the Master of all situation works! Click HERE to return to the edited story Click HERE to create a banner that links to this story! Your e-mail address will be kept private!
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