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The Fool Has Said in His Heart, There is No GodI was raised in a small, rural town in northern Montana. When I was younger, my mother taught Sunday school in a Protestant denomination and my brother was involved in many youth ministry activities. Sometimes if my parents chaperoned an event, I was allowed to tag along with the older boys on their camping trips, hikes, and campfire worships. Oddly enough, in spite of such a religious environment, I never once heard the gospel of Jesus Christ nor ever inclined my heart towards God. Even though our town was so isolated, it could not escape the turmoil of the 60's. By the time I was in high school my parents had stopped going to church, my brother had left for Berkeley, California, to become one of the few caucasians allowed to join and train with the militant Black Panthers, and I was taking the lead in our community to promote the infamous subculture sweeping the nation at that time. But though I may have appeared one way on the outside, on the inside I was beginning to question everything. Why was I here? Does life have a meaning? All the magazine headlines read, “God is Dead.” Did that mean there really was a God? How could God die? Maybe He's okay, but am I? When I was a junior I decided to give God a chance, so I asked my mother if she would take me to sunrise services that Easter, hoping this could answer my questions and relieve the years of guilty feelings that had begun to build up inside of me. My hopes were quickly dashed though when she flatly refused and angrily told me how hypocritical religion was, backing up her words with detail after detail of personal experiences which had deeply hurt both her and my father. For the first time I discovered why my family had dropped out of Christianity. After I got over my shock, I figured there was nothing to life beyond what I was doing, so I may as well make the best of it and live it to the fullest. Instead of relieving my guilt, I began to bury it deeper in my being, only to have it surface late at night or at times when I was alone. The summer after graduation I met a person who not only believed in God, but said she knew Him personally. She began to influence some of my friends in what I viewed as a “negative” way. One night in late June, filled with skepticism, sarcasm and resentment, I took a few friends with me to her house to expose her “superstitions” and set my friends straight. I argued with her for hours. She did not know the Bible well so she could not answer any of my questions. Outwardly she seemed a fool, but even though I felt I was winning the battle, inwardly I knew it was a different story. She had something I was missing--peace. The longer we disputed the more frustrated I became, but she became more joyful and peaceful. Realizing that she could not persuade me to believe, she stopped the conversation and challenged me in front of all my friends, “Either God is real or He isn't. There is a fifty/fifty chance. If He is not real, nothing on earth matters. If He is real, wouldn't you want to know Him personally?” I had to admit, if there was a God I would be the fool not to know Him in an intimate way. That night I prayed for the first time: “Lord, if You are really real, then I want to know You as my Lord and Savior.” Before I could finish praying those words, I had a deep sense that God was real. I thanked Him for saving me, and asked Him to cleanse me with His precious blood. For the first time I felt the guilt in my being dissipate until I was fully awash in a peace I never knew could be mine. My friends starred at me in amazement. Spontaneously I urged each one of them to receive this wonderful Christ, and they did! Today, twenty-eight years later, the Lord is still so sweet, so precious, and so forgiving to me. I am still in Him and He is still in me as my life, my peace, my joy, and my true wisdom (1Cor. 1:30). Michael Wagoner | Back to List |
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