TESTIMONY
Stranded By Faith
By Paul Strand
CBN News Washington Correspondent
CBN.com
In 1971, I was a 16-year-old smart aleck atheist and I took great
pleasure in talking young Christians out of their faith. Why live
by faith? By its very nature you can't know what you believe is
true. The only problem with my philosophy is that it was driving
me into a deep depression. I would say 'if there is no creator
and judge, and we are a product of evolution, why do good? Why
be good? Why even be?
That summer I was having a hard time figuring out why I should
do anything or talk to anyone. My poor mother was panicking for
me as I was slipping into a deeper and deeper funk. I was spending
more time alone in my room and I was saying hardly anything to
anyone.
I recently asked my mother whether it seemed strange that I was
acting like that during the infamous summer of 1971.
"It certainly was," says Elaine Coate, Paul's mother. "You were
the most talkative child I had seen in on all of my life.
And Mom was not the type to preach to her kids. But finally,
one July day she slipped into my room, Bible in hand and I could
see clearly she had a bunch of scriptures marked.
"I was going to share the scriptures with you," she said.
I never yelled at her before but I said, "Don't do it. Don't
read to me from that book!"
"You became very belligerent," she remembered.
Little demons inside of me were just freaking out.
"Well, I suggested that you could listen to just one scripture,"
she said.
How did I respond?
"You threw me out of your bedroom," she said.
But my Mom never gave up.
"I just started praying harder than ever," she recalled, looking
back on that moment.
At the time I was an atheist but was working in the basement
of a church at a county agency. It was one of those emergency
hot lines that you call when you feel like you are going to commit
suicide. And about a week after that wild encounter with my mom
some Jesus People moved into town. They lived in a nearby house.
They came over to visit our hot line on a Saturday night. Some
hot line workers who knew I hated Christians came running to get
me and said, 'Paul, there are Jesus Freaks in here.' I ran out
and met them at the staircase and said, "Get out of here." Then
I looked in their eyes. There was so much love like the very
presence of God. It undid me. I screamed at them and cussed at
them and then I actually ran away. Those little demons again.
I couldn't stop thinking about those guys and that presence.
So, the next night, I went over to the Sonhouse. S-O-N. And I
ended up talking to the young leader for about three hours. I
could hardly understand a word this guy was saying about having
a personal relationship with Jesus. But there was an utter peace
about him. He set off this prickly itching inside of me that just
wouldn't go away.
Five long days passed, the itchiness never stopped and I just
couldn't take it anymore. Finally, out on a long walk I issued
a vague sort of prayer to the universe. I said, "Alright, we are
going to settle this once and for all. If there is a God out there
He has until the end of the night to prove himself. If He does,
I will give Him my life tonight. If He doesn't prove himself tonight,
I will never consider getting religious again. After all, if He
is the Lord of the universe, I would be a fool not to. It is His
universe. But if He doesn't prove himself tonight than as a good
atheist I am never going to consider getting religious again."
About 9:30 that night I ended up back at the Sonhouse where the
Jesus People lived and I shared my challenge to them. I said,
"If you can prove Jesus is here, tonight, then you have me. But
if you can't, well then, I guess in your eyes, I'm hellbound."
We spent the next two hours battling and debating. They tried
every argument. I rejected every one. We went round and round
and round. Close to midnight they finally gave up.
They said, "Look Paul, there is no way that physical beings like
us can prove the existence of a spiritual being like God." Then
they announced they were going to bed.
Well, I was desperate. I begged them to keep on debating.
I said, "My eternal soul is on the line, right?"
They just kept walking up the stairs.
I moved to their front door just bathed in self-pity. I began
to walk out into the night, but I felt if I crossed that threshold.
I was literally walking into Hell. But at that very moment on
that very threshold I got the shock and surprise of my young life.
Suddenly, seemingly out of the nowhere a mighty presence came
upon me. It was powerful and terrifying and at the same time sweet
and very appealing. And He said in a voice that didn't make a
sound and yet was so mighty it spun me around and actually knocked
me to the floor.
"If you want to know I am real why don't you ask me?" He asked.
I was scared to death and trembling yet I managed to whisper,
"Are you real?"
And suddenly that presence out in the doorway swept into the
room and began to swirl around and He simply said, "I am."
"It was so pure, holy, that all I could feel suddenly was the
weight of my own dark sin. I was crushed flat to the floor with
it. And I shouted out, "Lord, forgive me, I am sorry."
And that swirling presence came down and touched me gently on
the back and said, "You are forgiven. You are free."
I began to weep because suddenly my body felt so light. It was
like I was floating off that floor. I began to shout out, "Be
my Lord! Be my Lord!"
The presence said, "Just ask me in."
I said, "Come into my heart. Suddenly that presence sweeping
around the room shot down my throat and filled my heart. I fell
back down to the floor and began to weep and weep and weep.
A few minutes later, the two Jesus People who had gone upstairs
came back down, quietly came over to me and placed their hands
on my shoulders and said bravely, "Paul, would you like to ask
the Lord into your heart?"
I said, "Fellas, what do you think has been going on down here."
Well, that is what happened 30 years ago. About a year later,
God gave me a wonderful prophecy. He said I am going to send you
to a place called CBN News and you will explore a new form of
journalism.
You know, maybe that is what this is.
Paul Strand appreciates your feedback.
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