In the midst of the world, in the midst of our present dying culture, Jesus is giving a right to the world. Upon his authority he gives the world the right to judge whether you and I are born-again Christians on the basis of our observable love toward all Christians. -Francis A. Schaeffer, “The Mark of a Christian”
44 years ago this month I met the Jesus People; meeting Jesus would come later.
But between the time I met them and Him, my relationship with His people would throw me into an emotional twilight zone, a two-month combo of misery and fascination people under intense conviction so often swim through before they finally give in.
And all because they loved God, and each other. I’ve thought about it every April since then, and it’s on my mind today.
In the Spring of 1971, I was a high school junior and a mess. I’d been abusing drugs for years, having taken at least 100 LSD trips atop the regular use of every other available drug short of heroin. I was promiscuous with both sexes – girls my age; older men who I’d take a bus to LA to hook up with – and while I had the status of membership in the jock’s fraternity, I was also deeply depressed, low functioning, barely passing classes, and sleepwalking through life.
Into that bleak picture walked a beautiful classmate who invited me to a backwards dance. I accepted and we had a ball, though she was clearly an upright girl not to be trifled with. When I asked if she’d see me again, she said she’d like to take me to church with her, and I couldn’t have been more intrigued. Knowing nothing about church, except that it was a place only for the very old and the very ugly, I couldn’t imagine what this gorgeous young lady saw in such a thing.
Strange Fascination
So that weekend we drove to a small building in Costa Mesa called Calvary Chapel. We had to arrive an hour early, seriously, just to get a seat, and even then it was awfully cozy in those pews. The place swelled with young people looking like me but acting so, so differently. Something was tangible the second you walked in, and most of it came from them – the excitement of a football game blended with the reverence of a monastery. And the joy! Good grief, you’d think these people were reuniting after years of separation the way they reveled in each other. Hugs, glowing eyes, and a bond I could sense and, as an outsider, could also envy.
I tried telling myself they were crazy. But even before the service officially began, I’d seen enough to know they had an abundance of something I could
only dream of.
When worship started I got to see their other love, and obviously their first one. I had never heard, nor heard of, people lifting their hands and singing hymns with such passion. I especially remember them going through a rendition of “He’s the Savior of My Soul”, and when they sang the name “Jesus”, their hearts came through their voices. It was all pure, exquisite, unbelievably compelling. And it made me aware that because these strange people loved Jesus and each other, they had everything I’d been looking for, and had never come close to finding.
Ducking the Dove
The Holy Spirit, a dove to some, became a pit bull to me So began two months of what I fondly call my Welcome to Hell phase. Ann and I continued going to Calvary three times a week, as well as the weekend Christian concerts Calvary’s newly formed Maranatha Music was sponsoring. I said I’d do it for her, but in truth I was drawn to these Jesus People and repelled by them at the same time.
Pastor Chuck Smith struck me as warm and reasonable. For a crazy man, I’d then quickly remind myself, fighting the impulse to take him seriously. I listened as a young woman named Debby Kerner testified to her conversion as a Jewish person and sang about a “peace that passes all understanding;” I took in the harmonies of a terrific folk group called “Children of the Day”; I caught myself clapping along to “Love Song”, a rock group bringing Crosby Stills and Nash to mind who’d go on to become literal pioneers in contemporary Christian music. They were all leaving their mark on me, which I loved and hated and tried my best to resist.
Week after week I heard the gospel; night after night I saw people come forward in response. Not me. I dug my heels in primarily because I knew saying Yes to Jesus would mean saying No to all kinds of things I wasn’t about to let go of. I also refused to be swept along with emotionalism which was, I arrogantly told myself, all it meant when these people wept, walked down the aisle, and prayed. That wasn’t my style at all. If I was going to say yes, it would be done privately.
Loved to Life
Which finally happened in early June, when I snuck off campus during lunch break, found a quiet spot under a tree, and said yes I believe, yes I’ll follow, yes I need You. The Holy Spirit’s conviction, my undeniable emptiness, and a growing confidence in the truth I’d been hearing, all combined to finally get this numbskull kid’s name written in the Book.
But it started, for me at least, because they loved. Their love for Him and others extended to me, enough to first invite then haunt me into the Kingdom, and I guess I feel downright preachy about it all these decades later.
Because you hear so much talk these days about how to expand our churches, jumpstart our ministries, get people in, reach the Millennials, impact the culture. And I’m so on board with that, really, completely so. But the best of programs and strategies will never replace the power of relationship. If we will teach our people to love Him – invest in intimacy with Him; live in obedience; abide – and then to love each other as He has loved us, that formula will still work.
Human need hasn’t changed, nor has the power of the Word, nor the work of the Spirit. So my hope, as we ponder how the Church can respond in light of problems and challenges She faces in 2015, is that we’ll take some much-needed cues from the Early Church who had been there, done that.
Acts 2: 42-47 says it all: They fellowshipped; their engaged each other; they revered the Scriptures; they sought God; they loved.
And the Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved. -Acts 2:47
Tomorrow: Part Two in our five part series on the Reparative Therapy controversy
