Most of my adult years were overshadowed by the heavy cloud of alcoholism and drug addiction. The term “dry alcoholic” could have been coined for someone like me. Amidst this fog, I navigated through three marriages, all of which ended in divorce. The concerned eyes of my daughter often met mine, pressing her mother’s Bible into my hands with fervent hope, urging me towards salvation through church service. Born and raised a Catholic, I struggled to understand her perspective, reluctant to embrace another church’s service. The turning point approached in the form of a friend who spoke highly of a Christian service she had recently attended, assuring me it was something I’d appreciate. Intrigued, we decided to visit Harvest Christian Fellowship the upcoming Sunday, where Mike McIntosh was slated to preach.
Arriving at the venue, I was taken aback by the early-bird congregation sprawled across the lawn. They were engrossed in their Bibles, some strumming guitars and singing, while others grilled hamburgers, offering them to anyone who wished to partake. The communal atmosphere was infectious. The inside of the church was no different. The service kicked off not with solemn hymns, but with a fervor reminiscent of a music concert. The only difference? The lyrics resonated with Christian beliefs. As I glanced around, the congregation was immersed in joy, their hands clapping, their spirits uplifted, and love shared through hugs.
When Mike took to the stage after the musical euphoria, an inexplicable weight pressed down on me. His words seemed tailored to my life’s story. Each sentence, each scripture reference, felt like a mirror reflecting my past and present. As he spoke, I shrank into my seat, a strange mix of discomfort and realization dawning upon me. My friend, noticing my unease, later mentioned that what I felt was the Holy Spirit convicting me of my past transgressions.
The service culminated in an altar call, a beckoning for those seeking redemption. I found myself stepping forward, my heart heavy yet hopeful. That day marked the inception of my journey as a Christian. Like any journey, it hasn’t been devoid of stumbles and backslides, but my determination to stay on this spiritual path has never wavered. The darkness that once consumed me has been replaced by a light I never imagined possible. Today, as I reflect on this transformative journey, gratitude fills my heart for Chuck Smith and the Calvary Chapel community. Their unwavering faith and the safe haven they provided played an instrumental role in not only changing but saving my life. At 84, I find myself marveling at the wondrous ways life can surprise and redeem us, even when we least expect it.
Norman L. Bliss
