I gave the question what seemed like a very long pause of reflection, then slowly answered, “I believe it goes all the way back to a few weeks before my salvation experience to a powerful encounter I had with God in a cemetery where my wife’s brother had been laid to rest nearly two years before.”
Months of daily coming to the grave had taken its toll on my mind and emotions—each day, in deep grief, hoping that the one I spoke to would finally hear my sobbing words. But on this day, at the first, my grief was more intense than at other times. This day I was not alone. For the first time in nearly two years of coming, others were with me.
We had come to this place together for the purpose of viewing the newly installed Military grave marker we had fought so hard to acquire for Jack. Now, it was no longer just a plot of unmarked grass. Now, his name was attached to the earth before us. Somehow, this named monument made the whole experience of losing him more real, more final. It became obvious this was the case for all who were gathered over what had become sacred ground in our lives.
Almost as quickly as we had arrived, my young niece, who was just learning to read pretty well, broke into uncontrollable wailing. She, too, had seen his name. Her crying, of course, had a profound effect on the rest of us. The rest of us—presumably mature adults, began to cry nearly as hard as she.
It was at a point where it seemed the pain would never end, at least for me, that my long-time friend and brother-in-law, fell hard to his knees and began to speak aloud, through his own tears, to someone he called, “Father”.
I had known that he and his wife had become “church-people”, and though I had known him for years, I had never heard him pray. Something strange, yet wonderful, happened as he prayed; an unusual peace came over me as I listened to him pour out his heart to God. —No, as I looked around at the others who were with me, this same peace seemed to rest upon each one. I could not explain the feeling I was having, but I was drawn to it. It was not just a peace; it was a Presence, and at that moment, I would have given anything if I might be granted permission to live in that Presence forever. This is what I had been missing and searching for these nearly two years. I did not understand it; could not explain it, but I knew this was what I was seeking for my life.
This was my first real experience with prayer; anybody’s prayer. A month later, the Lord introduced Himself to me as I prayed my own prayer of repentance and commitment. I asked God to help me, and He did; to save me, and He did; and to keep me, and He has. I gave Him my life, and my life changed forever.