Chapter 3. Born Again

I was born again even before I kissed the conference president’s daughter and begged Dad to take us to Africa as missionaries. It happened at the Smith brother’s Bible Prophecy Crusade. We attended nearly every night. Not that my folks needed to be evangelized. They knew Adventist doctrine and Bible prophecy inside out, upside down and backwards. They could have given the lectures themselves. We attended every Adventist evangelistic meeting in town, whether it was sponsored by our congregation, Memphis First Seventh-day Adventist Church, or by the Raleigh Church where Uncle Alex’s and Uncle Charlie’s families attended. We even went a time or two to meetings sponsored by the Longview Heights Adventist Church–the Black church.

Elder Chalmers’ meetings a couple of years before had been held in a huge tent on a vacant lot out on the southeast edge of town. The billboard out front featured pictures of dragons, horses and angels from Revelation. That was classic Adventist evangelistic strategy, dramatic, colorful, scary. The Smith brothers’ meetings, however, were held in Ellis Auditorium downtown. My dad liked that. Ellis Auditorium was the largest meeting hall in town. It was respectable. He always hoped some of his patients would attend the meetings and become members of the Remnant Church.

Each evening, after the singing, the lights dimmed and Elder Smith began his lecture, illustrated by slides projected on the huge screen. Over the course of a couple of weeks, the evangelist preached about prayer and baptism and being born again. He preached three nights on the Sabbath, giving the history of early Roman Christianity and a sharply critical analysis of the switch from the Jewish practice of Sabbath-keeping to the Catholic practice of Sunday observance. But the most memorable presentations were about animals–not literal animals but visionary creatures. The preacher explained the meaning of the four beasts of Daniel–a lion, a misshapen bear with three ribs in its mouth, a leopard with four heads and four wings, a monster with iron teeth and iron claws, and a little horn that had a mouth and talked like a person. He proved that the “lamb-like beast” of Revelation was actually a prophecy about the United States.

The evangelist’s pictures of heaven featured vast expanses of lawn where lions, bears and tigers gamboled with children. Jesus was portrayed in conversation with a circle of attentive friends. In heaven we would play with animals. We would be able to fly like the birds. There would be no more anger, no older brothers, no bullies, no temptations. I could hardly wait to get there.

One night when the evangelist invited people to come forward and give their hearts to Jesus, I felt the call. The auditorium was dark. On the screen was a picture of heaven. I listened to his appeal and felt a terrible pressure to act. I wanted to go forward. But it was scary. I felt the eyes of all nine hundred people in the auditorium. (Never mind that it was dark.) No one else was going forward, at least not in our section of the auditorium. And to go forward I would have to climb over family members, including my older brother. But the evangelist was still appealing, and the inner call was unbearably strong. I didn’t want to miss heaven. I didn’t want to disappoint God. I wanted to do right.

I wanted to be free from my sense of guilt, but what ugly wickedness would all those watching people imagine I was guilty of if I went forward? Probably going forward was supposed to be for adults, not little kids.

But I couldn’t escape the terrible inner pressure. The tug of war became unbearable. The evangelist continued his appeal. God was calling everyone, young and old, rich and poor, no matter what evil was in our past. We shouldn’t worry about what other people thought. It was erroneous to think that we could improve ourselves before we came. There would be no better time.

I was on my feet, crawling over my brother headed for the aisle. Scared to death, I made the interminable journey to the front. By myself. In the dark. Hopeful. Hungry for the magic of a personal connection with God. Glad finally to be doing the right thing. Knowing I wanted God more than anything else in the world. Knowing this decision placed me squarely in the center of the ideals of my family and my church.

I was the only one who came forward that night. After the closing prayer, as the crowd streamed out of the auditorium, the evangelist and his assistant sat down with me on the front row and talked about spiritual life.

“When the Children of Israel were in the desert at Mt. Sinai,” the evangelist said, “God told them to sew borders of blue fabric on their robes as a symbol of their loyalty to him. Every time they looked at that border they remembered that God had rescued them from slavery in Egypt and that they were to live for him. You are not old enough yet to be baptized, but I want to give you something that will help you remember your decision tonight to follow Jesus.”

He handed me a blue ribbon with gold lettering on it.

“Every time you look at this ribbon, I want you to remember that God has called you to be his child. I want you to remember tonight. Some day when you are a bit older, you will want to be baptized. And this blue ribbon will help you remember that.

“There’s something else I want you to do. I want you to learn your memory verse every week. The way we get closer to Jesus is through the Bible, and even if you can’t read, by learning your memory verses, you can store God’s word in your mind. Do you think you can do that?”

I nodded.

He invited me to kneel, then he and his assistant knelt beside me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and prayed, “Our Father in heaven, thank you for Johnny’s decision to follow you. Thank you for his parents’ example of godliness. We ask you to continue to draw Johnny to yourself. Help him to be obedient, to learn his Sabbath School lessons and memory verses. Keep him faithful by your Holy Spirit. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

We stood. I walked back up the aisle light as a kite. I had been born again. I knew my parents would be happy. God was happy. I was happy and free and clean. It was very good.