Spiritual Autobiography

My dad had seven brothers and a sister. They could have been a baseball team. Dad was second oldest, and then came his younger brother, Forrest. I had no memory of ever seeing Forrest. I think I probably saw him when I was a little snot, but I have no memory of this. Forrest was a rare and exotic creature. Forrest was a missionary. And Forrest was on his way to my house so God could use him to explode my life.

Forrest was a missionary to a native American tribe that was located so far north that they were just south of the Arctic circle. I think they would receive their "stuff," their supplies, once a year. Probably in the spring. That is to say that in an average year they got to go "shopping" just once. They placed an order with someone and the stuff got sent up to them. It was a fairly Spartan existence in a lot of ways. In my senior year of college, when my family had come up for my graduation, and Forrest and his family were living at the school (he had joined the school staff), my dad took us all out to a restaurant to celebrate. The older of my two cousins was around twelve years old. That was the first time she had ever eaten in a restaurant.

Forrest and family had arrived while I was in school that day. When I arrived home, it became clear that in my status as the leading religious fanatic in my family, that I would have a lot to talk to Forrest about. I hadn't told anyone that God and I were having this little argument. So I sat in the living room and we visited until bedtime. And then I got up and walked down the hall to my bedroom. And just as the door was closing, Forrest called out, "When do you think you might like to come to Prairie and get some Bible training?" If he had waited thirty seconds longer to say that, I wouldn't have heard him. And my whole life would have turned out different.

So I went out to talk to him about "Prairie." Where and what was Prairie? A Bible Institute up in Canada? I really don't remember anything specific that he told me about the school. The conversation ended and I went back into my bedroom. And as the door closed, the words of my prayer came back and hit me in the face. "You have no right to make promises in Your word that You won't keep." And I knew, I just knew, that this was my answer. I knew what the next step was. I was going to Prairie. Wherever, and whatever that was.

To be continued . . .