I was saddened and shocked at the same time by the news of the sudden death of Pastor David Wilkerson, founding pastor of Times Square Church in New York. More than anyone else in the world, he is the person who influenced me the most in my walk with the Lord. Though we never met, he helped me to come out of the spiritual rut I was in.
Actually, I first came to “meet” him when I was 15 in 1976. I remember taking a glance at a book that was lying on top of my eldest sister's bed. The title was “The Cross and the Switchblade” and the name of the author was David Wilkerson. I didn't touch it though and I turned away moments later, forgetting about it. Little did I know that we would “meet” again 15 years later.
It was 1991 and I was in Australia working as a programmer. By that time, however, my spiritual life was in tatters although I was saved in 1980. What happened was that a series of personal setbacks and frustrations damaged my faith and I turned away from God, even denying him, eventually. Without faith as my anchor, I became a nervous wreck and was desperately longing for rescue. So, one Sunday morning, I slipped in the back of a small Baptist Church in the town where I lived and asked God to reveal himself or do anything in order for me to know that he really exists and still cares for me. But he did not. I went home telling myself, “I'll never enter a church again.”
The next day though thoughts of God kept creeping into my mind no matter how much I ignored them. This continued throughout the week. On Saturday morning, I decided to take a walk in the shopping center and when I saw a Christian bookstore I entered the store and glanced around until my eyes rested upon a thin little book perched on top of one of the bookcases. The title looked familiar, “The Cross and the Switchblade”, and I remembered that this was the same book I saw 15 years before. “What is this book about?” I asked myself. So, I removed it from the shelf, thumbed through its pages, and then decided to pay for it.
I brought it back to my “flat”, as what Australians call an apartment, and in the kitchen started to read the book. I found out that the book recounts the story of Pastor David's journey from Pennsylvania to New York in obedience to God's call in his life to preach and minister to drug-addicted youth and other wayward kids. I also found out that every time the author talked about the lives of the youth being changed by the Holy Spirit, I cried. Afraid that my flatmates, who could already be coming home, would find me crying and, perhaps, think that I was reading a romance novel, I decided to go inside my bedroom where I continued reading.
So I read and read until I reached the part where Pastor David said that when he was a young boy, two ministers from their church came to their home to visit and pray for his dying father who was lying on bed. Wilkerson went down to the basement to pray for his dad, too, because he felt shy doing it in front of other people. He didn't know, however, that their visitors heard his prayers through the vent. As he prayed, color started to return to his dad's face until he asked for water. The two men then called him upstairs and excitedly told him that his dad was recovering.
At this point of my reading, I started to cry again and this time, uncontrollably. Since I couldn't continue my reading, I tried to stand up and wanted to close the book. Suddenly, I fell down and found myself hunched against the wall in a fetal position. I was sobbing heavily and wondered what was taking place. Realizing that God was trying to take a grip of my heart, I asked, “Lord, what is happening?” Gently, he said, “Because you ignored my Son Jesus for a long time.” I confessed my sin of ignoring the Lord but I still couldn't get up. It's as if a big hand was keeping me down on the floor. I asked again, “Lord, what do you want me to do?” There was a long silence and then, I heard myself saying over and over again, “Yes, Lord, I will follow wherever you lead” until my tears subsided. Then, peace came over me and I was able to stand up. The next day, I was back in church.
God uses people to help us in our spiritual journey. They may be someone close or someone distant, someone we know or someone who may not even know we exist. But God uses our lives to be an influence to someone else's life. It's a privilege to be in this position. I hope I can be someone who'll influence someone the way Pastor David influenced me. And I pray that my life will be worthy of emulation.
Someday, I'll meet Pastor David again. And when we do, I'll give him a big hug and say, "Thank you!" Right now, I'm sure he's part of the great cloud of witnesses that are surrounding me and egging me on to run with perseverance the race that is marked out for me. I hope I'll finish well the way he did. And he did because he fixed his eyes on Jesus, "the pioneer and perfecter of faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2). I hope to do the same always.
Actually, I first came to “meet” him when I was 15 in 1976. I remember taking a glance at a book that was lying on top of my eldest sister's bed. The title was “The Cross and the Switchblade” and the name of the author was David Wilkerson. I didn't touch it though and I turned away moments later, forgetting about it. Little did I know that we would “meet” again 15 years later.
It was 1991 and I was in Australia working as a programmer. By that time, however, my spiritual life was in tatters although I was saved in 1980. What happened was that a series of personal setbacks and frustrations damaged my faith and I turned away from God, even denying him, eventually. Without faith as my anchor, I became a nervous wreck and was desperately longing for rescue. So, one Sunday morning, I slipped in the back of a small Baptist Church in the town where I lived and asked God to reveal himself or do anything in order for me to know that he really exists and still cares for me. But he did not. I went home telling myself, “I'll never enter a church again.”
The next day though thoughts of God kept creeping into my mind no matter how much I ignored them. This continued throughout the week. On Saturday morning, I decided to take a walk in the shopping center and when I saw a Christian bookstore I entered the store and glanced around until my eyes rested upon a thin little book perched on top of one of the bookcases. The title looked familiar, “The Cross and the Switchblade”, and I remembered that this was the same book I saw 15 years before. “What is this book about?” I asked myself. So, I removed it from the shelf, thumbed through its pages, and then decided to pay for it.
I brought it back to my “flat”, as what Australians call an apartment, and in the kitchen started to read the book. I found out that the book recounts the story of Pastor David's journey from Pennsylvania to New York in obedience to God's call in his life to preach and minister to drug-addicted youth and other wayward kids. I also found out that every time the author talked about the lives of the youth being changed by the Holy Spirit, I cried. Afraid that my flatmates, who could already be coming home, would find me crying and, perhaps, think that I was reading a romance novel, I decided to go inside my bedroom where I continued reading.
So I read and read until I reached the part where Pastor David said that when he was a young boy, two ministers from their church came to their home to visit and pray for his dying father who was lying on bed. Wilkerson went down to the basement to pray for his dad, too, because he felt shy doing it in front of other people. He didn't know, however, that their visitors heard his prayers through the vent. As he prayed, color started to return to his dad's face until he asked for water. The two men then called him upstairs and excitedly told him that his dad was recovering.
At this point of my reading, I started to cry again and this time, uncontrollably. Since I couldn't continue my reading, I tried to stand up and wanted to close the book. Suddenly, I fell down and found myself hunched against the wall in a fetal position. I was sobbing heavily and wondered what was taking place. Realizing that God was trying to take a grip of my heart, I asked, “Lord, what is happening?” Gently, he said, “Because you ignored my Son Jesus for a long time.” I confessed my sin of ignoring the Lord but I still couldn't get up. It's as if a big hand was keeping me down on the floor. I asked again, “Lord, what do you want me to do?” There was a long silence and then, I heard myself saying over and over again, “Yes, Lord, I will follow wherever you lead” until my tears subsided. Then, peace came over me and I was able to stand up. The next day, I was back in church.
God uses people to help us in our spiritual journey. They may be someone close or someone distant, someone we know or someone who may not even know we exist. But God uses our lives to be an influence to someone else's life. It's a privilege to be in this position. I hope I can be someone who'll influence someone the way Pastor David influenced me. And I pray that my life will be worthy of emulation.
Someday, I'll meet Pastor David again. And when we do, I'll give him a big hug and say, "Thank you!" Right now, I'm sure he's part of the great cloud of witnesses that are surrounding me and egging me on to run with perseverance the race that is marked out for me. I hope I'll finish well the way he did. And he did because he fixed his eyes on Jesus, "the pioneer and perfecter of faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2). I hope to do the same always.