Finding My Way Home - A Christian Testimony

The year would have been 1953, possibly 1954, and a young boy, either five or six years of age, is by himself playing cops and robbers in his back yard. As you imagine this sight, picture this young child getting caught up in his playing and trying to talk street tough, that is as a robber might do. In the midst of that playing and also in trying to play the role of a tough guy, understand that this little boy did something which no little boy should ever do. He began to swear viciously and even to take the Lord's name in vain. But as quickly as he had started his clamor of filth, though, he realized what he had done and immediately fell to his knees, begging God for forgiveness.

One would look on this sort of playacting and probably find humor. Certainly, no one would ever expect such a lad to have difficulty in this life or to ever get into any kind of serious trouble. A young boy at age five or six, who had wanted so much to be good and do right, almost must turn out all right. Everybody would agree. Right? Right! But let me quickly add that such a conclusion really is not correct. I know because I was that boy! At age five and even at age six, I was very anxious to please. As I grew older, I was still anxious to please and do right, but something happened! Somewhere in the whole process of growing, I lost my way and did things that I did not want to do. Things were done to me that I did not want to be done, and worst of all, I grew up terribly confused and unable to comprehend all the things that was and would be happening to me.

Before I even knew what happened, the years passed, and a whole new drama was beginning to be played out in my life. This time, though, it was not playacting. This time, it was very real. I had messed up, and the circumstances in my life definitely were not a laughing matter. Approximately thirteen years after the cops and robbers episode, I found myself in what I can only describe as very serious trouble, yet I was not able to really understand what had happened or even why it had happened. As a child, I had sincerely wanted to do right, yet nowhere had that been evidenced by any of my actions. For years, I had been on a downward spiral, and by the end of 1967, I had finally reached bottom! As a five or six year old kid, I had still been teachable, but no one had taught me the truth. One might argue that what happened to me could have conceivably been avoided if only someone or something had shown me the truth about right living. But no one did, and eventually, everything started to come to a head!

That day when everything finally started coming to a head was Tuesday, November 7, 1967. I arose that morning to what I had expected to be just another worthless day. Because of my circumstances, all of my days for the past few months had been like that - empty and useless! For what had seemed like an eternity, my whole life had been going nowhere, and on that particular morning, it was still going nowhere. Not only that, but I was forced to face what was rapidly becoming my normal predicament. I had failed, my future seemed shot, and I did not know what to do! Consequently, on that particular morning, not much was different in the life of Tom Lee. Everything, that could have, had gone all wrong!

Like many other bad mornings, that morning would have been just one more except that on the day before, things had gone from bad to worse! As I surveyed my situation, I could see that my life was in a complete mess, and I could not find a single reason for living. I did not have a life, neither did I have any real opportunities to make one. Instead, I was like a general who has just been defeated in the final battle of a lost war. I was very somber, my spirits were broken, and I knew that I was defeated. So, I behaved accordingly by giving into my predicament and surrendering the fight. From my perspective, the struggle was ended, and I had nothing left inside. There were no options left to pursue, no people left to see. Therefore, I was consciously choosing to throw in the towel and just give up, and that is exactly what I did! I quit on life. That decision represented the final, big step downward from the time alluded to above, when as a kid I had innocently played cops and robbers. In November 1967, I could not see any other course to take!

My life was like that of a Greek tragic hero, only in my case the events were not an act! No director would be yelling, "Cut!," and no one would be walking offstage to exit the scene. My tragedy and sorrow were real. My existence had become hopelessly empty and ridden with trouble. I would arise each morning, sit all day in my favorite chair, and then transfer myself at night from that chair back to my bed. During most evenings, I would go out for a late night drive. However, that drive, which was always late, always along the same stretch of Interstate-64, and always alone, was usually my only outside activity for the entire day! I would just sit all day in the same chair and then go for my nightly drive. That was it! I did not feel like I had any friends, and my days were completely without direction and hope. I was not yet nineteen, but I felt all alone. Indeed, I was alone! I had nothing going for me, and my life was little more than a mere existence! I had become like a ship without a compass wandering about at sea on a foggy night. I was lost and confused, I could not see where I was going, and I was very much afraid! My life was stuck in that rut, but I did not know how to set myself free.

As I began that particular November day, my attitude toward my life and problems was similar to how many respond when things have gone wrong. My life was in big trouble, so I started looking for a way to shift the blame! It is often comforting when one can justify his or her problems by blaming someone or something else, and that is exactly what I was trying to do! I could not find a solution to my problems, so I at least hoped to find a scapegoat. If I could somehow blame my despicable existence on a bad home life or on a bad childhood environment, then maybe I and others would understand how I had fallen so far. If I could find a valid criticism in how, where, or when I had grown up, then perhaps I would be able to convince myself that I had had a bona fide reason for going so far astray.

Those were my motives on that morning, just as they had been for each day over the past several months. However, in all that time, I had not been successful in my quest, and I knew that I was not to be on that day, either! I simply could not blame another person or thing for what had gone wrong in my life because no one else was at fault. I also could not find any extreme or extenuating circumstance about my childhood which would magically justify how I had behaved. By my own testimony, I had to declare myself guilty. What I had done with and to my life had been my own doing, and I could not blame another for the problems which I had created. I was trapped in a life which no one, including I, wanted, but it was all my fault!