Over the years, I’ve learned that God uses many different tools to get our attention and coax us off the highway and onto the Side Streets. I’d like to share my memory about one of them with you today.

I was 14 years old and coming out of a very difficult freshman year of high school (that’s a story for another post). Throughout my childhood I attended the local Catholic Church with my parents, even serving as an altar boy at the one we called home. 

Our church, in an effort to keep up with the times, had started offering a “folk mass,” which featured contemporary music instead of traditional hymns. Since I had reached 14, I was old enough to join the Folk Group. The cool thing for us was that one of the priests, who was especially supportive of the effort, did a Monday night mass just for us about once a month.

In each service, right after communion, there was a time of meditation – usually featuring special music from one of the folk group soloists. This night, though, there was no solo. Instead, they played a recording from the rock group Chicago: “(I’ve Been) Searching So Long.”

As the song played, waves of emotion swept over me. It was at once comforting and upsetting; reassuring and confusing; calming and unsettling. Something big was happening inside me, but I couldn’t understand what it was. 

What did they mean when they said “There’s a strange new light in my eyes…changing me”?    The song’s lyrics and melody haunted me for the rest of the evening.    Over and over that night I rehearsed this line from the chorus in my mind: “I’ve been searching so long to find an answer; now I know my life has meaning.” 

I WANTED an answer that would give my life meaning! I WANTED a new light in my eyes! I WANTED to “feel very free.” All through the evening and into the night it went until I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I remember being surprised that nothing had really changed very much, and though the memory of the night before stayed with me, I went about the business of life. Days became weeks, weeks grew to months, and months to years. Life…moved on!

It wasn’t until around five years later, 2000 miles from that little Catholic Church, that I gave my heart fully to Christ. I finally learned what a meaningful life was, and realized that what I had experienced as a 14 year old folk group singer was the touch of the Holy Sprit! God Himself cared enough about a young teenager to offer a special touch – a touch that is as real today as it was all those years ago.

How about you? When did you first become aware of a touch from God? Leave me a comment and share a bit of your story!

Until the next turn,

Gordon