Updated December 29, 2009
 www.lovecounts.net

The sun has just risen over the horizon spreading a glow of iridescent pink over the California desert. Too beautiful to waste I saddled Mama and rode through the morning splendour breathing the fresh, crisp air and drinking with delight the quiet wonder of nature all around me.

Peace of heart and mind crept and then expanded to reach every cell of my being. In the shadow of peace came joy and a knowing to the depths of my soul. Suddenly all doubts were washed away - I knew there was a God. Only an infinite, perfect mind and spirit could create something as beautiful as our world.

I was fifteen.  Twice that now and more, the memory of that morning is an oft-played melody.  Oh, I knew about God.  Did I just.  I had been bottle-fed on hell-fire and brimstone, revival tents and prayer meetings until, in typical teen rebellion I denied His existence.  I didn't just shun the taboos of a particular doctrine; I denied God’s very existence.

I had been learning about Darwin’s theory of evolution in school.  I liked it.  It was easy.  It meant not having to reconcile the apparent contradictions of the Bible or asking questions of why, or of feeling guilty.  Viewing each individual as simply a part of an on-going evolving process relieved me of ultimate responsibility.  I no longer had to question life after death or my purpose for walking this earth.  It was all wrapped up neatly in a package of natural laws contained within our genes.

As a result of that early morning experience I could not remain on a platform of atheism.  But neither was I willing to accept the harsh, unrelenting, biblical god presented in my childhood.  So for many years I was an agnostic, a fence sitter.  I couldn’t deny God’s existence; I was just unwilling to search the meaning He had in my life.  There was too much conflicting input.  It was easier to let life drift by.

That is not to say those years were void of learning.  At the very core of life and living, universal laws are in place which allow us to learn, and in the learning, grow as human beings.

However, it is much like being in school.  You have a vague idea there must be some purpose in all the hours of effort and drudgery, but mostly you do it because it is there to be done - there is no vision.

I drifted in this spiritual no-man's land for fifteen years.  Then, lying in bed one night, without apparent rhyme or reason (as in I was not on drugs or drinking), a great, incredibly bright light filled the room and my heart.  My entire being was overwhelmed with joy and wonder, but most of all with love.

Being ‘born again’ has become a well-known term, but I know of no other way to describe the feeling of complete renewal.  The Light permeated every atom of my being with a cleansing, healing glow, leaving in its wake joy, delight, love and a fierce hunger for knowledge.

In the subsequent months I devoured everything I could get my hands on that would tell me about God and His ways and His purpose for my life.

Understandably, my response to this "happening" was to fall back on the teachings of my childhood.  I knew no other.  However, the more I learned, the more questions arose to be asked.  And, because the traditional answers were in direct conflict with the reality in my heart, I became confused.  In the confusion it was easier to just put the whole experience on the back burner.  I couldn't turn it off - it was far too real.  I just chose not to deal with it.  For a time.

Calgary, Winter 1987