he never came to America, he was a big figure in my life. His death marked the first time I had lost somebody I loved. I felt so cheated that I did not get a chance to say good-bye or tell him that I loved him. I was mad that I had wasted so much time while he was still alive, and worried if I would ever see him again. His death also set my mind racing about the biggest questions in our lives: Why are we here? Do our lives have a purpose? Does some part of us live on after death?
The idea of God as Santa Claus no longer satisfied me. Looking for answers, I read Hindu texts and talked to pastors of several different faiths. I pushed my parents to buy a copy of the Bhagavad Gita , one of the most important Hindu scriptures, and read all 700 verses. Then I dug out from my closet the unread Bible Kent had given me. I didn’t know how my parents would react to my reading the Bible, so I found a cozy spot in the back of the closet and, armed with a flashlight, I read
from Genesis through to the end. At one point, I bought Cliff’s Notes to the Bible , to help me make sense of it. I spent countless hours sitting in that closet, but in the end I had no epiphany. I prayed desperately, promising God that if He told me He existed and how to worship Him, I would consider myself blessed beyond belief and would not ask for anything else.
God used what was most important to me to get my attention back on Him. I was a normal teenage boy, so he used a teenage high school girl to get my attention.
During my junior year in high school, while attending a math tournament in New Orleans (stop snickering), I spotted Kathy. I had a crush on her, but had never mustered the nerve to say hello. This time I did, and we ended up going to a dance and having a great time. That night we stood on the top floor of the Hyatt Hotel in New Orleans and tossed coins down into the water fountain. Things were going great. Here was this pretty girl and she was interested in me! Then I asked her a simple question that changed everything.
“What do you want to do after school?”
Now, most of my friends in Baton Rouge wanted to be doctors, or football players, or teachers, or nurses; a few might have wanted to be rock stars. But she gave me an answer I had never heard. “I want to become a Supreme Court Justice,” she said, “because I want to save innocent lives.”
Where’d this come from? I thought to myself. And yet, I was struck by her answer. Saving the unborn gave her a purpose in life, something that was missing from mine.
Kathy was Catholic, and out of curiosity I attended Catholic Mass with her. I didn’t want my parents to know, so I was probably the only teenager in Baton Rouge who told his parents he was going to a party
so he could sneak off to church. Here too, as with my first tussle with the Bible, I had no profound spiritual awakening. If anything, I was confused by the kneeling, standing, praying, and mumbled words of the priest over the altar.
I bombarded friends and pastors with questions. I read classics of Christian apologetics, books about Biblical archeology, and books like Evidence That Demands a Verdict . My mind kept whirring. I wanted to know how the Church worked and how decisions were made. I asked a Catholic layman, “How does one get elected Pope?” “Bobby,” he replied, “don’t become Catholic because you think you’re going to be Pope.” Perhaps he knew me too well.
My constant queries were not always welcomed. At one point a pastor pulled a friend aside and said, “Look, Bobby is just not going to become a Christian. It’s not going to happen. He’s so stubborn. He’s got so many doubts.”
My questions continued until Kent (who had given me that Bible I read in my closet), invited me to hear him sing in a church musical at Chapel on the Campus, a nondenominational church at LSU. In the middle of the performance, they showed a simple black and white film about the crucifixion. I had intensely studied
The idea of God as Santa Claus no longer satisfied me. Looking for answers, I read Hindu texts and talked to pastors of several different faiths. I pushed my parents to buy a copy of the Bhagavad Gita , one of the most important Hindu scriptures, and read all 700 verses. Then I dug out from my closet the unread Bible Kent had given me. I didn’t know how my parents would react to my reading the Bible, so I found a cozy spot in the back of the closet and, armed with a flashlight, I read
from Genesis through to the end. At one point, I bought Cliff’s Notes to the Bible , to help me make sense of it. I spent countless hours sitting in that closet, but in the end I had no epiphany. I prayed desperately, promising God that if He told me He existed and how to worship Him, I would consider myself blessed beyond belief and would not ask for anything else.
God used what was most important to me to get my attention back on Him. I was a normal teenage boy, so he used a teenage high school girl to get my attention.
During my junior year in high school, while attending a math tournament in New Orleans (stop snickering), I spotted Kathy. I had a crush on her, but had never mustered the nerve to say hello. This time I did, and we ended up going to a dance and having a great time. That night we stood on the top floor of the Hyatt Hotel in New Orleans and tossed coins down into the water fountain. Things were going great. Here was this pretty girl and she was interested in me! Then I asked her a simple question that changed everything.
“What do you want to do after school?”
Now, most of my friends in Baton Rouge wanted to be doctors, or football players, or teachers, or nurses; a few might have wanted to be rock stars. But she gave me an answer I had never heard. “I want to become a Supreme Court Justice,” she said, “because I want to save innocent lives.”
Where’d this come from? I thought to myself. And yet, I was struck by her answer. Saving the unborn gave her a purpose in life, something that was missing from mine.
Kathy was Catholic, and out of curiosity I attended Catholic Mass with her. I didn’t want my parents to know, so I was probably the only teenager in Baton Rouge who told his parents he was going to a party
so he could sneak off to church. Here too, as with my first tussle with the Bible, I had no profound spiritual awakening. If anything, I was confused by the kneeling, standing, praying, and mumbled words of the priest over the altar.
I bombarded friends and pastors with questions. I read classics of Christian apologetics, books about Biblical archeology, and books like Evidence That Demands a Verdict . My mind kept whirring. I wanted to know how the Church worked and how decisions were made. I asked a Catholic layman, “How does one get elected Pope?” “Bobby,” he replied, “don’t become Catholic because you think you’re going to be Pope.” Perhaps he knew me too well.
My constant queries were not always welcomed. At one point a pastor pulled a friend aside and said, “Look, Bobby is just not going to become a Christian. It’s not going to happen. He’s so stubborn. He’s got so many doubts.”
My questions continued until Kent (who had given me that Bible I read in my closet), invited me to hear him sing in a church musical at Chapel on the Campus, a nondenominational church at LSU. In the middle of the performance, they showed a simple black and white film about the crucifixion. I had intensely studied
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