I am an only child. By nature, I am very objective, independent, and non-emotional. Although raised by a remarkable Christian mother, I ...
I am an only child. By nature, I am very objective, independent, and non-emotional. Although raised by a remarkable Christian mother, I started rejecting Christianity when I was a teenager. By the time I left home for college, I had totally wandered away from any form of relationship with God.
I spent over 20 years focusing on personal achievement and secular success. I majored in finance at Georgetown, studied comparative business at Oxford, received my law degree from Berkeley, worked in stereotypical glass-towered law firms, started my own technology law practice, and served in management for a high-growth telecommunications company. To me, life was about self and success. I didn’t have time for spiritual or emotional things. I operated on a stable and selfish plane -- and I liked it that way.
When my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1995, I automatically dropped into my natural state. I provided energy, positivism, and intellectual counsel. I focused on the inevitable victory of recovery, rather than the daily drudgery of treatment. As my mother probably expected, I removed myself from the emotional, and concentrated on my role as the strong-willed only child with the unyielding positive attitude.
On October 5, 1999, everything began to change. My mother had just endured another round of chemotherapy, and she was scheduled to get her test results. She called and asked if I would attend the visit with her oncologist. (My mother had learned to always bring two sets of ears when test results and future treatment options were discussed.) Since her husband, Bob, was unable to attend, I agreed to take a morning off work to help my mom “collect information.”
As I sat and listened, the bottom of my stomach dropped to the floor. In an instant, my detached positivism started to shake at the seams. I listened as we were told about elevated cancer markers and a diminishing list of treatment alternatives. I was trying to get my emotional bearings, as the oncologist and my mother were talking about the tradeoff between ongoing treatment and quality of life.
The reality of the disease, the reality of the prognosis, the reality of fewer and fewer treatment options, the reality that this was my precious mother enduring this real pain, the reality of life, and the reality of death. All of a sudden, I felt very awkward and alone. I was shocked by the truth of my mother’s disease and emotional about her uncertain future. It was then and there that I realized I needed to do more than mask feelings with supposed intellect and positivism.
After the doctor left, my mother looked into my eyes and saw right down to my heart. She reached out and grabbed my hand. She prayed -- I cried. (Actually, other than casual prayers before holiday meals, this was the first time I had prayed in over 20 years. It was also the first time I had cried in nearly as long.)
After that day, I was no longer a passive onlooker. I was determined to do something -- anything. So I began praying for my mother each morning in the shower. Although I truly wanted to participate in my mother’s healing, my prayers were cluttered and I would lose all focus within seconds. I also realized that I had no personal connection with the recipient of the prayer -- I was awkwardly pitching “my mother’s God.”
About this time, my wife, Debra, shared her desire to attend church as a family. We had two young boys at the time, and it was important to her that the family shares some moral and religious foundation. I knew that Deb was a “spiritual” person, and I never tried to interfere with that, but it took her years of patience to find this right opportunity to hit my heart with her request. I appreciated her concept and committed to supporting the family effort (from time to time). Deb found a large, seeker-based church called Saddleback, where I could hide on the fringe.
While going through the motions at Saddleback Church, I discovered a remarkable thing, I could pray for my mother and keep focus on my heart -- no clutter, no financial statements, no “to-do” lists in my mind. I didn’t understand why, but there was something special about that place. So remarkable was the feeling, that I would occasionally pop in for a prayer on my way home from work. Of course, the message from the pulpit was still “mythology” to me, but the feeling and focus were good nonetheless.
Then one week, Lee Strobel, a Yale-educated lawyer and Chicago Tribune journalist, presented his message on fact-based belief in the God of the Bible. A self-professed atheist for many years, this guy was right up my alley. As an investigative journalist with an analytical legal mind, Lee set out to disprove the Bible and the story of Jesus by collecting the evidence and putting it on mental trial. Well, the multi-year effort brought Lee to Christ, and the results of his investigation became the basis of his best-selling book, The Case for Christ.
I was stunned that spiritual faith could be supported by factual evidence. This wasn’t some “Jesus freak” who needed some extraterrestrial reason for living -- this was an intellectual, success-driven guy who set out to substantiate his “belief” in atheism. It turns out Lee only scratched the surface that day, but it was enough to spark questions I hadn’t entertained for over 20 years.
Taking the lead, Deb discovered an evidence-based class for skeptics at Saddleback Church. It was a fast-paced course taught over 4½ months by a number of experts. Deb used the opportunity to challenge my mind, and, in the spirit of Lee Strobel’s investigative approach, I accepted the challenge.
As it turns out, I was utterly amazed by the evidence, and I completed the entire course. As a result, I was ravenous for more information. I studied the Bible as an “intellectual exercise.” I delved into history, ancient manuscripts, archaeology, geology, paleontology, cosmology, comparative religions, prophecy, and statistics. After six months of deep study, I felt my intellectual barriers to Christianity crumble.
Shortly thereafter, I prayerfully converted by newfound BELIEF into life-changing FAITH. On Mother’s Day 2000, with the support of my wife, and with my precious mother by my side, I completely turned my life over to Christ. It was that day that my wife became my spiritual partner. It was that day that my mother became my spiritual mentor. It was that day that my mother’s 20 years of patient prayer for her prodigal son were answered. It was that day that my mother’s painful trial with cancer was given meaning.
