Here's the first book Mike has had published!
74 pages
Cover price: $13
Click on the image to go to the i-proclaim bookstore to purchase a copy.
There's an "About the Book" and an "About the Author" section on the i-proclaim bookstore website: http://store.i-proclaimbookstore.com/reasons.html, but here's the low-down:
I work in a factory, and have taught the Bible since 1993. I had an inquisitive co-worker who was asking me questions about religion and I had some ideas I wanted to expound on so I wrote them down. I printed them out, and left them in my unlocked toolbox.
The guys on the other shifts read it, and said, “Hey, this is pretty good, but no one will want to read it if they don’t know who you are.” So I added a little of my background. Then the guys at work said, “The background is the best part. When you’re just writing, ‘This is what the Bible says, and this is what it means,’ it seems ‘preachy.’ But when you add what experiences you had that influenced your perspective on it, it makes it interesting.”
So I added more about how I came to view certain aspects of Christianity the way I do, and before I knew it, there was enough material for a short book. It's light reading, and short: 74 pages. Below is the first chapter. Enjoy.
My father and mother were both raised Catholic, but lost their sense of piety while attending college. One Christmas my mom insisted that it was important that my brother and I have some inkling as to what Christmas is about, and that dad give us the rundown. Having developed a cynicism toward all things religious, he gave us a warped 5-minute synopsis of the account in Luke that culminated with “But we know that Immaculate Conception is impossible, so it’s all a fairy-tale.”
They divorced when I was 13, and my brother and I opted to live with our dad in hopes that he would instill manly discipline in us. Thus, I was raised with an agnostic indoctrination and the prejudice that religious people are small minded and easily led.
I remember one fanciful sermon where he ridiculed the Jewish prohibition on eating pork. He said that a bunch of people probably got sick and died after eating pork, and Moses cried, “Pigs are cursed! God forbids us to eat pigs!” But modern medicine has eradicated trichinosis, and now it’s safe.
That hypothesis sounds convincing provided you’re willing to dismiss huge swaths of scripture. Christianity declared all foods clean to eat 2000 years ago. What has modern medicine to do with that?
When I was 18 everyone in my circle of friends were Christians, and they conspired to convert me. One gave me a Bible. I thanked them, but protested that it’s a very thick book, and I’m not a good reader. They countered that salvation comes through Jesus, and His story is found in the New Testament. Hence, it was unnecessary for me to read the Old Testament – the bulk of the tome – because it is for Jews, not Christians.
A friend and I sat at Miller’s Restaurant for about 2 hours while he tried to push the intellectual case for Christianity on me. I told him it all sounded well, and that I didn't have a problem with God, I just had no proof that He existed.
"But you don't say God doesn't exist?"
"No."
"Well then," he said, "I heard a preacher on TV say that if you really want to know, ask and He'll give you a sign. Just don't ask for anything outrageous like a car flipping over, or a building bursting into flames. Ask for something that will just prove to you that He exists, and He'll do it."
The thing is, I didn't really care. I was content with my secular orientation. It was all my friends who wanted me to know. I went home and took a shower. As I did, I thought, "Ask for a sign huh? I wonder what I should ask for. God turned the Nile into blood for Charlton Heston. That would be cool." Then my mind drifted to other things.
The shower in my dad's house had a unique feature: when you would push the plunger on top of the spigot to stop the flow to the shower head, the water would turn ice-cold before diverting to the tap. So my habit was to step out of the shower first, then push the plunger.
I did. Before I pushed the plunger, the water was coming out of the showerhead crystal clear. When I pushed it, water gushed out of the tap black.
My thoughts immediately returned to the Nile and Blood. It spooked me hard. I got the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone, and covered myself with a towel. "Somebody's been in my head!" The water had come out with a rusty tinge when they would flush the mains - sometimes brown - but never black. And the timing was uncanny.
I can't prove that it actually happened, and if I could, it wouldn't prove to anyone else that God exists – only to me.
So I set about reading the New Testament. After a couple hours, I decided to buy a pack of smokes at the convenience store. Coming to the realization that God was real, did nothing to jar my prejudice that church people were superstitious fools, and my fresh exposure to the Gospel actually reinforced it. I had known the humble Baptist behind the counter, Larry, for a couple years. My mind was filled with questions, so I unleashed them on him.
“Tell me Larry, Jesus said not to call any man ‘father,’ for we have but one Father, Who is in heaven: yet Christians call priests ‘Father.’ How is it that people who claim to believe in God, turn around and do exactly what He says not to do, and call it obedience?”
“What?” he stammered, “Wait a minute – that’s a Catholic thing. I’m not Catholic. I’m not sure why they do that. Protestants don’t call their ministers ‘Father.’”
“What do they call them?”
“’Pastor,’ or ‘Reverend.’ We call our minister, ‘Bill.’”
“Well I’ve started reading the New Testament, and as soon as it starts, it says not to do a lot of things that Christians do, and it seems like a contradiction.”
“Like what?”
“Well for instance, Jesus said not to give charity or pray in public, because that’s what hypocrites do. When you go to church, don’t you all pray and give money in public?”
“Yes.”
“How is that not being disobedient to Jesus?”
“Huh? You’re taking everything He said out of context.”
“How so?”
“Well, you have to consider who he was talking to, and what He was talking about. In that story, He was talking about the Pharisees, who put on a big show of doing those things, so the people around them would think they were holy.”
“So He wasn’t talking to everyone? How are you supposed to know when He says, ‘Do this,’ or ‘Never do that,’ who He’s talking to?”
“He was talking to everybody. But He wasn’t saying it was wrong to do; He was saying not to do it for the wrong reasons.”
“He said not to do it. That makes it wrong no matter what the reason. What else do you do in church besides give money and pray?”
“We sing songs and listen to the preaching from the Bible. What do you think people should do when they go to church?”
“I don’t know. Celebrate? God gives us everything we have. When we get together, we should rejoice at how great and generous He is, and that He has forgiven our sins, and allows us to know Him.”
“That’s basically what we do. Worship is praising Him for, well, being Him. But you’re supposed to pray and give money. Churches can’t function without that.”
I didn’t find those answers very satisfying. Later reading revealed that when the Apostles started the first church, they prayed together and took up offerings, so I accepted it as scriptural behavior.
When I was 21, shortly after I got out of the Army, I came home one morning with a severe whiskey hangover (separate story). Another Larry, a long-time friend of my dad who'd gotten religious, was sitting in the front room. I plopped down on the couch. He began trying to evangelize me, but I told him that I was already hip - I found God when I was 18, and had read the New Testament.
"Oh," he said, "So you already know it all?"
"Right."
"So then, you know that you need to be born again."
"Huh?"
"You said you read it. Do you have a Bible handy?"
"Right here." My grandmother, a devout Catholic who lived with us, kept a Bible on the coffee table.
"Turn to John chapter 3, and read the story."
I did.
"Did you read the part where He tells Nicodemus that unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of Heaven?"
"Yes."
"What do you think that means?"
"I have no idea."
"Let me explain it to you. It's a Kingdom, just like it says. God is the King. Heaven is the castle. Everything that has ever existed was created to serve God. But those who are 'born again' are reborn spiritually into the family of God. They're no longer servants, but family, and have a place in the castle. Would you like to know how to do that?"
"Sure."
"Sin separates us from God. God wants to save you from your sins - that's why He sent Jesus to accept the punishment for them on the cross. And He wants to be your Lord - the God you worship. But He doesn't force Himself on anyone. Now the air around us is filled with spirits - demons and angels. When you decide to receive God's gift of salvation, all you have to do is announce to them, 'I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior,' and He accepts you as His own child (Jn 1:12, 13). But you can't do that."
"What do you mean?"
"You can't say those words."
Now at this point, I wanted to say, "Yes I can: I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. See?" But I couldn't.
While I was struggling with it, he continued, "You see Mike, demons control you. They control everything you do because you've submitted to them. If they were just words, they'd let you say them. But they won't because they know that as soon as you do, they will lose control of you. You will fall under the protection of Heaven."
As I continued struggling, he talked about experiences he'd had. He'd seen demons. He'd seen angels. He'd seen miracles, and cast demons out of people. Then suddenly, I couldn't understand anything he was saying.
I stared at his lips. My intellect told me, "Yup, he's speaking English." My grandmother was sitting in the chair next to him. As he spoke, she would say, "Mmm-hmm. Yes. Oh, my!" I could understand everything she said, but not him. It was garbled like an audiotape played backward.
Then I interrupted him: "Stop. I know that everything you've said is true, but now I can't understand a word you're saying."
Then I could understand him. He said, "Then you know what you need to do?"
"Yes."
"You can do it anytime you want to. No one has to be around. The spirits are always there to witness it."
With that, still reeling from the hangover, I retired to my bedroom and crashed.
A couple hours later, I awoke from a heavy slumber. It was as though someone shook me and said, "They're not paying attention - you can say it now!"
So I said it. I sat up in bed, and said it again.
Then I was filled with a sensation I can only describe as goose bumps on the inside - on my bones. I didn't know what else I was supposed to do, so I stood and just kept looking around the room and announcing it over and over. I was filled with energy and confusion and joy as my bones tingled. I started freaking-out. I thought, "I've got to get out of here!" and decided to walk down the street to Miller's Restaurant. As I did, I was floating on a cloud and in a daze.
I shook it off, but my mind raced. I had a thousand questions for Larry. He stopped by the house the next day, but I wasn't home. I never saw him again. He died - either of a heart attack, or traffic accident, I don't recall.
So now I believed in God, but not church-people. Larry was the only one I trusted, and he was gone. Here was a crowd who claimed to be in league with and have access to the ultimate power and wisdom in the universe. Yet their conduct indicated weakness and ignorance. I clung to God, but shunned church.
At the time, I was a cocky, lying, lascivious, foul-mouthed, thieving fool who smoked, dabbled in drugs and stayed drunk as much as possible. But since that was the condition I was in when I found God (or rather, He found me), and He responded to my prayers, I assumed He was cool with it. I was wrong. Over the next 7 years, He continued to make Himself real to me, while allowing my life to unravel to illuminate the errors of my ways (as though that process is complete).
I came to a point where I had lost my job, lost my home, just about lost my marriage, and cried out to Him. He rescued me. He was tangible and accessible. I became consumed with Him: I had an insatiable appetite for reading the Bible, and prayed fervently several times a day.
This wasn’t reverence by the way. It was arrogance. I didn’t know anyone else who had such a real relationship with God, so this could only mean that I was someone special whom He had big plans for, like David, or Noah. And I felt ready. “Put me in, Coach!” I understood that there was a spiritual war raging in the invisible world around us (Dan. 10:12,13). I also believed that because of my allegiance with God, I was bulletproof. Bring it on! Let me at ‘em!
It’s a funny thing about combat: the other side fights back. It hurts. It’s hard. As I endeavored to battle demons through prayer and wage war in the heavens, all hell broke loose on earth. My wife wasn’t thrilled that I had become a religious fanatic, and our marriage became acrimonious. At work, anything that could go wrong did. Every time I attacked the enemy, I left some weakness exposed, and they pounced on it.
There was no rest. I became fatigued, and abated. So did the enemy. I found rest, but now I had become one of those weak, unimpressive Christians that I’d so despised when I first discovered that God is real.
