By Steve Nelson
I will forever be grateful for growing up in a Christian home. My parents, who were not raised Christians, came to know Jesus as their Savior because of the earnest prayers of a godly grandmother and a call to surrender preached in a sermon by evangelist Billy Graham. They were young newlyweds, in love, ready to embark on life’s journey together when one evening they found themselves sitting in an auditorium balcony, two seats as far from the stage as possible, yet something amazing happened—they both heard the Spirit’s call and, together, they made their way to the front, surrendering their lives to God. One afternoon a literature evangelist came knocking at their door and sold them a set of Bible story books by a man named Uncle Arthur. As a child I remember my mom reading those stories countless times, teaching us the wonderful truths from God’s precious Word.
Growing up I loved going to church—spending time with our church family was simply amazing and I truly believed that our church was a piece of Heaven on Earth and, conceivably, it was, or maybe it was unique because of the times in which we grew up. Sounds picture perfect? Perhaps, or maybe I was too young to be involved in the internal workings of the church and society. Life was simpler then.
However, as I grew older, I began to hear louder rumblings of discontent and strife. Social injustice was taking center stage in the press and even in the church. Families that suffered the tragedy of divorce were sometimes viewed as outcasts. In those days, that was paramount to the unpardonable sin—branded with the scarlet letter “D”—viewed as being outside of God’s will or, perhaps, even outside His pardoning grace. Other times, I saw church members cannibalize each other over power struggles and spiritual pride.
By the time I was in my late teens and early 20s, church no longer held the interest of my early years. Sure, I would regularly attend, but somehow the thrill was gone. After several failed dating relationships, and the tragedy of losing my mother, I felt lost. Almost imperceptibly, I began to drift away, not in person, but in spirit. I wanted something the church was not providing—a safe, loving, and supportive place for someone who was still trying to figure out life— more importantly, how to live the impossible spiritual dream, to be a saint in a world that was anything but perfect. The church of that era only seemed to be focused on reaching those outside its doors and, since I was already in church, I was not a priority. Many of my generation left never to return.
Over time, I became a statistic. Sadly, I was one of a staggering number of young people who no longer attended church in any regular fashion. It was simply not a place for someone who was struggling to find themselves in a world that only encouraged compromise instead of fidelity. I didn’t see it at the time, but many of the choices I made drew me further away from God than I could ever have imagined. I was living a double life. When I went to church I put on my church clothes, my church smile and, because of so many years of practice, my church persona—happy on the outside, yet desperately lonely, lost, and empty inside. I was truly a backslidden Christian, and I had no hope of turning my life around. I knew I didn’t fit in, yet I was still searching and hoping to find something that would satisfy the hungering of my lost soul. I was afraid if people knew the real me they would treat me as an outcast—to be shamed and rejected. And if the church rejected me, God most certainly would do the same. At least that’s what I sincerely believed to be true.
One of the greatest dangers of sliding backward is that you never really know how far away from God you’ve gone, or how much danger you are actually in. Once the sin experiment begins, and the devil becomes your tour guide, you are not entirely free to choose what temptations you partake of, or resist. You may find yourself doing things that would have filled your heart with terror in the innocence of your youth. Yet, once you’re caught in sin’s deceitful web, the snare is too powerful to break and you become blinded to where you are or which path you are taking. It’s like driving through a snowstorm. You keep going forward, knowing you can’t stop, never quite certain how far you’ve gone, or the actual distance to your final destination. Thus, the perils of traveling the broad road that leads to destruction. For years I drifted in this state of uncertainty. Wanting what I could not find, a place of joy and safety, longing to return to some- where, or someplace, in the far distant past.
Thankfully, the prayers of a loving mother and godly father, along with many others, brought me to a turning point. I believe every prodigal son and daughter will eventually be brought to that place—faced with the ultimate decision. Will God win and eternity be filled with never-ending joy and peace, or will the pleasures of sin forever destroy their hope of a Heavenly home? Thankfully, for me, the devil lost that day.
By the time I came to the place of contemplating a return to church, my life had already changed dramatically. I married a wonderful wife and she agreed to return with me to the church I had left many years before. That step was very difficult to take. A few years prior to this, I had been working for a religious organization, yet was not connected to any church family. I wondered if we would be accepted. Or was the judgmental eye of godly saints waiting to ridicule me for staying away so long and living outside of God’s will for so many years? That fear kept us from darkening the church’s door for some time. Yet God’s voice still called, and one day we made that brave step back through those doors, and our lives were forever changed.
Growing up in the church made it somewhat easier to return, since I knew what the experience would be like, yet more difficult because the guilt of leaving and living on the outside still haunted me. What I needed, and what every prodigal child needs, is love, acceptance, and reassurance. If you have been privileged with the honor of welcoming a lost sheep home, the words you speak, and the manner in which you address them can have eternal consequences. Whatever you do, don’t ask, “Where have you been?” Don’t question their dress, speak of their failures, or look down your self- righteous nose at the condition in which they return. I plead with you to think loving thoughts toward them. Show the love and compassion of a Father whose arms are open wide, waiting to cover their shame with His royal, righteous robe and to claim them as His own.
Because we were loved and accepted, we stayed. And, because of God’s amazing grace, we are daily transformed. Little did I realize then the plans God had for our future. Today, we have been gifted with the awesome privilege to care for His sheep and I truly believe we are living in an hour in earth’s history when countless numbers of way-ward children are about to come home. Perhaps you are hearing the call to return? Please come. God has a special place and plan for your life. We are anxious to have you home.
–Steve Nelson pastors four churches in Wyoming with his wife Samantha. They currently have two awesome horses, two loving dogs, and one semi-neurotic cat. Email him at: [email protected]