I was saved in February, 1977.
A long time ago, but I was only 7.

My dad had just been ordained a Baptist preacher not long before that, and he was so on fire for the Lord. He never hesitated to tell each of his children about God and the awesome salvation plan. And he never batted an eye to tell me there was a burning hell which I could go to if I did not receive Jesus into my heart.

One night, I lay in bed watching shadows on the ceiling. Suddenly, those shadows turned into ghosts who were watching me. I was a scared kid. And then it dawned on me: I had never given my life to the Lord before as I had seen so many others do.

I got out of bed, went into the living room - where it was light! - and found my Dad lying on the sofa, a single lamp on the end-table burning, and he was reading the Word. He asked me what was wrong.

"I don't wanna go to hell, Daddy!"

I remember him putting his arm around me, and telling me that he had prayed to God that I would come to know Jesus personally. Of course, he spoke in seven-year-old-eese fluently. He asked me if I had ever invited Jesus into my heart. I told him no. He then told me to pray after him. That was the first time I had heard the sinners' prayer, and finally knew what it meant. And, for cryin' out loud, I got saved!

I went back to bed that night after Dad gave me a kiss goodnight, and looked back up at the ceiling. Those shadows were just shadows again. No ghosts. Just shadows. I remember sleeping like a baby.

No Fear

Some would say that it would be wrong to scare people into heaven, that it would be of poor judgment to beat people over the head about a judgment day, that it would be unwise to tell people right off the bat that there is a real hell, and they better know where they're going when they die. Some would rather sugar-coat the Gospel, and try to win people to Christ by sharing all the good bubbly things Christ would do for them as a result. By the fulfillment. By the blessings. By the abundance of love, joy, peace, and happiness.

I am living proof that God sometimes uses 'holy' fear, sometimes uses the harsh reality of our existence to lead someone to Him. It is a balance. There must be love, but there must be a fair warning too. There must be hope, but there must also be the truth of death.

Obviously, I am not talking about blowing up abortion clinics, and making a fool of Christ by shoving Him down peoples' throats on the steps of a building at a local university. But I am talking about people like my Dad who lovingly let me know of the consequences of living - and dying - without God.

I thank God that Dad told me the whole truth.

The Scripture states that the Holy Spirit will draw all men unto Himself. Sometimes I wonder if those ghosts on the ceiling that night in February 1977 weren't the Holy Ghost drawing me.

My Piano

Music is my greatest passion. Granted, I love my Jesus more. But music is, and has become, my expression to the Lord.

I have always felt that God wanted me to bless Him with music. I started playing piano when I was ten. I took three years of lessons, and then, sadly, my piano teacher moved out of state. I then taught myself, from what I learned, and have been playing faithfully since.

So, has there ever been a time when I desired to travel three hundred days out of the year as keyboardist for a successful group, or recorded a project a year with the greatest rock band in the US, or wanted to make millions writing songs for the top artists of the present generation? Darn tootin' I did!

But sometimes, God has a funny way of showing His perfect plan. Makes you realize how unimportant the lights, glitter, and glory of world tours and record contracts really are when compared to the glory of someone coming to know Jesus for the first time. Puts things in perspective.

When I was asked to join ADVENT, I knew I had found my niche in rock music for sure. I knew that I would soon be playing in front of thousands. I would be signing autographs. I would hear myself on the radio. All these dreams in my head.

But then, there were the dreams in my heart. God would not let me forget. It didn't take long for me to appreciate that I, along with the other guys in the band, could minister to young people with the rock music we were playing. When young people started coming to the altars to receive Jesus as Savior and Lord after our concerts were over, it became very obvious what was important.

Sure, I have heard myself on the radio before. Sure, we have been signed with a record label. And sure, we have CDs and tapes in record stores. But it doesn't compare with the one-on-one ministry to some teen-ager who has never accepted Jesus as Lord, or some young lady who needs deliverance from a burden too heavy for her to bear alone, or some young man who needs prayer for spiritual renewal.

Nothing compares.