Doing Church: Preadolescence

My own conversion experience may or may not encourage the reader. The good news is that for the last twenty-plus years I've been certain of my salvation. But really, the whole "assurance of salvation" thing has never been a huge issue for me. For many Christians, especially new converts, the doubts can be overwhelming.

When I was a young Christian, my concern wasn't so much whether or not I was saved, but whether or not Christianity was true. I'm happy to proclaim that for over two decades I've been certain that Biblical Christianity is not only true, but the only way to find one's ultimate meaning and purpose in life.

During late childhood, I was a fairly curious kid. Age-appropriate science books fascinated me and I loved building things, such as plastic model ships, balsa airplanes, rockets and even a replica of the gallows used to hang the conspirators in Abraham Lincoln's assassination.

 Lee and Ray Nash families (June 20, 1972).  Standing L. to R.:  Ray, Betty, Jan, Patti,
 Aunt Grayce, Uncle Lee, cousin Murray.   Sitting L. to R.:  Pam, cousin LeAnn, Tom, cousin Torrey

Really, my mind was all over the place. Occasionally I'd even ponder the things of God. I remember asking Dad some run-of-the-mill tough questions, such as "How do you know God exists?" or "Why doesn't God show himself plainly?" Kids start asking these types of questions as soon as they become self aware. But I must confess, I wasn't overly curious about God.

Dan Fisher, my best friend during my late childhood and teens, was a real blessing. We both shared a passion for building things and he ultimately became an engineer. I ended up with an English degree. Ha!

Dan was reared in an evangelical Christian home that differed significantly from the sleepy Presbyterianism that I was raised with. It was through him that I learned about faith in a personal God who is real and near. I also learned that I needed to make a decision for God -- to believe and convert. The details of all this hadn't sunk in, but it slowly became clear.

My father had made an effort to make the Faith relevant to our family. There was a time in my late childhood when Dad decided to lead weekly family devotionals (I think Sunday evenings) where he shared Christian truths with us. That may have been what inspired my testy questions about God. These family times lasted less than a year. I'm not sure how excited my sisters were about these family devotionals, but my own lack of enthusiasm may have discouraged Dad. Captive audiences are no fun. Nevertheless, I'm glad he made the effort.

Tom, Dan Fisher and Cyrus (April 22, 1972)

When I was about eleven years old (1970 or 71), Dan Fisher invited me to go watch the movie The Cross and the Switchblade, starring Pat Boone as the reverend David Wilkerson and Erik Estrada (of CHiPs fame) as the young New York street gang leader, Nicky Cruz. I really looked forward to seeing the movie because I'd heard there was a lot of graphic gang violence depicted in the "rumbles." I hadn't thought much about the plot, which involved pastor Wilkerson being called by God to minister to the street gangs.

Mom drove Dan and me to an Assembly of God church on 19th Street in Springfield, located just a few blocks from the Presbyterian church (demolished a few years earlier) of my early childhood. The Assembly of God church had been promoting The Cross and the Switchblade, which they were showing in their sanctuary. I remember enjoying the movie and being somewhat relieved that the violence was less graphic than expected. The courage of Wilkerson impressed me, as well as the dramatic conversions of the gang members.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, a man walked on stage. I assume he was the Assembly of God pastor. I wasn't expecting an altar call, but that's what happened. It didn't seem all that strange to me. I'd probably seen Billy Graham crusades on TV, so I was aware of altar calls. The pastor shared a few things (which I don't remember) and concluded by urging people to believe and accept Christ as Savior and Lord. It's possible that the actual prayer of salvation occurred while the audience was still seated. Then, after the prayer, we were asked to walk to the stage. And yes, I did recite the sinner's prayer and I did walk forward.

From the stage, the new converts were directed to a side room, where we filled out cards, prayed and talked with councelors. I remember only a small amount of counseling, but a lot of praying. I think we were told to confess our past sins to God and repent. My list was fairly short, but the fellow next to me went on at length, confessing sins that my semi-innocent mind didn't know existed. He was about thirty years old and looked like a biker-gang member. He seemed like a fairly hardcore hombre, but his tearful repentance seemed genuine. I found his dramatic conversion much more interesting than my own.

My mother and Dan must have been very patient as they waited for me to complete the conversion process. A few weeks later, someone from the Assembly of God church telephoned me for some post-conversion followup. They did the right thing by contacting me, but for some reason I was passive, non-committal and relieved when the conversation ended. It's not that I was rejecting my new-found faith. There was a certain amount of zeal in my heart concerning the things of God. I was reading the Bible, praying and even read David Wilkerson's book, The Cross and the Switchblade. Then I read, Run, Baby, Run by Nicky Cruz.

I'm pretty sure my conversion, at age 11, was real. I was sincere about it. However, within a year I had lost all interest in the faith. Although I was still quite shy and innocent, puberty with its passions beckoned. Worldliness seemed much more interesting than Jesus.

Nash family photo (April 6, 1971)

Strict, 5-point Calvinists would probably say I wasn't truly converted. The P in TULIP stands for perseverance of the saints. They would interpret this to mean that someone who has been born again (regenerated) and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, is transformed and will continually be transformed. This will result in visible, positive change in their behavior that will steadily improve over a lifetime.

My perseverance lasted less than a year. Now, there are less-strict Calvinists who interpret perseverance to mean "once saved, always saved." They would say that genuine Christians are capable of significant backsliding. God doesn't force Christians to seek relationship with him. We can turn to the dark side and still be saved, according to less-rigid Calvinists. I sure hope the flexible Calvinists are right, but I don't know for sure.

John Wesley's face marks the other side of the salvation coin. Wesleyans believe we can be genuinely saved, but can later lose our salvation. Of course, the question arises concerning when that point occurs. How low does a Christian need to sink before losing the gift of eternal life?

I tend to lean in the direction of the flexible Calvinists, who believe in "once saved, always saved." However, I'm aware of the tough Scriptures that seem to indicate otherwise. So, if a seemingly genuine Christian takes a nosedive into deep, long-term carnality, I'm sure not going to tell him that he's saved. If he shows no evidence of regeneration, why give him hope? He needs to repent and turn to Christ.

Salvation theology is a paradox. When we take a strong position one way, holes in our argument tend to appear. I say we should just bask in the mystery, while being open to compelling arguments from all sides.

Meanwhile, as I approached my teenage years, I couldn't have cared less about God and salvation. All I wanted to do was play sports, have fun and be increasingly naughty.