Chasing God Until He Caught Me: Chapter Two - God's Tether
The Compelling Story of God's Relentless Pursuit To Rescue One Lost Soul
December 1965 - Just a month shy of thirteen. Daddy took a new job in Charleston, about fifty miles away.
We moved during Christmas break, right in the middle of my 7th-grade year. Just like that, I started the Spring semester in a new school, in a new town, where I knew no one. This was not good for a vulnerable, naive 13-year-old boy.
We settled in the small coastal village of Mt. Pleasant. Almost as quaint and idealistic as Walterboro, but being so close to Charleston, it had more of a big city feel.
Here, I was introduced to a brand new world of “beach life”, as many of my new friends and classmates were from the nearby beach communities of Sullivan's Island and Isle of Palms.
It was during this time that I began to question everything about life.
The Vietnam War was raging, rock music and the hippie counter-culture were in full swing, and rapid integration was transforming schools (and society). It was a tumultuous time of rebellion and “freedom”. Everything we knew was being challenged or changed.
Throughout my Junior High and High School years, I began slowly going down a road that led away from God. I began smoking at age 13 and drinking in earnest soon after.
By the time I hit the 9th grade, I had fallen in with a pretty rough crowd. Many times we would cut school to go to the beach or we would sneak a smoke in the bathrooms. I had begun to get in fights, mainly to gain respect.
I remember once, when several of us were walking toward a friend's house, another boy who lived down the street, was walking behind us.
When he had caught up with us, I turned around asking if he was following us. Without giving him any time to answer, I landed a hard punch to his jaw and almost knocked him out cold.
I thought I was so tough, yet somewhere deep down I knew something was terribly wrong.
Ironically, all this time, I remained a part of the church youth group.
God’s tether?
One Sunday each year, the youth group was asked to do the church service. During my Senior year, since I seemed to be the most outspoken one in the group, I was chosen to do the “sermon”.
In truth, I was scared to death.
Here I was, a known “wild child” to many in the congregation, yet I was supposed to stand up before everyone and give a sermon.
What should I speak on? How long should it be? How would people see me? So many questions flowed through my mind in the time leading up to that morning.
Right up until that day, I truly had no idea what I was going to say. Looking back on it, I believe God had His hand on me, even though I had no clue at the time.
When I finally got up into the pulpit, what came out of my mouth astonished even me.
I don’t recall the exact words, but the whole talk was about hypocrites, who came to church on Sunday, supposedly to worship God, then lived opposite lives during the rest of the week.
I knew this not only from observing the lives of most of the adults but from my own life as well.
The youth group leader, whose life was probably more “Christian” than anyone else I knew at the time, told me how “profound” my sermon was. I think it must have lasted all of five minutes.
Anyway, from that point on, I decided to take my own advice and stop being a hypocrite. Only instead of giving up the wild lifestyle, I quit going to church as soon as I finished High School.
Thank you for subscribing to The Talking Pen, a creative writing site for fiction & non-fiction stories, poetry, art, and personal musings that illustrate the struggles, tragedies, and triumphs of life.
While you’re here, check out my original ‘Stack: Life UnCorked, where the focus is on successfully navigating the issues of life from a Christian point of view.
Your journey as a teen rings true for so many of the kids I grew up with. Our neighborhood was unique and wonderful - about 50 kids all within 5 years of each other, all went to the same Christian schools, same churches, very close knit. Yet beneath the idyllic appearance, so many kids struggled with so much and I think in hindsight, my parents and their parents weren't aware of what was happening with their kids ("feelings" weren't a thing) and assumed we would all turn out okay. Great post, Cork.
Cork, your first two chapters of Chasing God Until He Caught Me have hooked me. I grew up in the same era and atmosphere marked by a sense of community, respect, and decency. Sometimes, it all seems lost, though I don't believe that. We're just distracted today, and that's a pity.
I was not raised with religion. My parents were "believers," but they were not focused on religious matters. We didn't attend church except for weddings and funerals. I have no formal education in Christianity, but I have no hostility toward it, either. My sense is that people, communities, and nations are better with faith.
You're a fine writer. I'm looking forward to the coming chapters. --- Dave