MY CONVERSION

-- by --

Dennis Rideout

I was in my early 20's, I suppose... [my memory is extremely selective, it seems!]. Most of my youth had been invested in vain pursuits of one kind or another in an attempt to locate an identity I could call my own. Most kids go through that.

The usual sexual mis-behavior of a teen-ager with raging hormonal and explosive chemical changes, mixed with a disturbing contradiction of pseudo-moralistic "social-religion"... added a disruptive element to an already out-of-balanced sense of confusion. I was a mess! I was in trouble! I was out of control!

A youthful by-product of Southern California during the idealistic 50's, entering the disillusioned, "beatnik" 60's... my path led me to a "behavior-modification" "think-tank" by the name of Synanon. This amazing institution took $400.00/day heroine addicts [that's in 1960 dollars!], and stood them against a "firing-squad-wall" of "AA"-type reality, and blasted them with "fire-hose-force" doses of "truth". Brutal but effective, this so-called "attack-therapy" caused real changes in attitude, lifestyle and [eventually] even the characters of these socially "lost souls".

But Synanon became much more. A live-in necessity for drug-addicts, Synanon became a thriving, large community of some consequence in their Santa Monica beach-head; replete with international fame, wealth, and even local political power. And as the uniquely most effective behavior-modification experiment in history which also coincided with the devastation and aftermath of the "brain-washing" results on our troops in the just-previous Korean "police action"... well, the appeal was simply irresistible to anyone who was as "abandoned-to-confusion" as I considered myself. [...this was during the same time-frame as the great "EST" movement in Southern California, for any who might remember that] I mean... if they could "save" those heroin addicts, and straighten them out... why couldn't they "save" me? Indeed, Synanon did become a "cult-religion" for many in those days. But, of course, it failed. Synanon, my "god".................... failed me!

I became ill; spiritually sick unto death. I despaired of my life, and I knew that I was dying. I dropped out of sight from all family & friends and took a single, "flea-bitten" room in the basement of an old boarding house directly across the intersection from the main entrance to Synanon. Having been rejected by the only "hope" I knew [long after having given up on eastern cults & religions, etc.], I resigned to die. I took no food for days. And, of course, I got weaker & weaker. I knew that, by this time, my family would have been beside themselves with distress for my whereabouts, and that my father would certainly have found some way of locating me [tho I had taken great pains to conceal myself from that possibility]. My parents were in retirement in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri at this time.

There was a pay-telephone just outside my room. I had sensed that my father might surely call on that phone and plead with me to "come home" to him and my mother. Just how in the world he might locate me, let alone the number of that pay phone to call me, I had no idea! Nevertheless, the day finally arrived when that phone did ring, and ring, and ring... so much so that I finally got up out of my bed, [having first resolved firmly NOT to agree to go "home"!], and answered that pay phone. It was my dad. And I heard myself actually agreeing to go home! Amazing!

I was given a copy of "Great Lion Of God" by Taylor Cauldwell to read in my sickbed while tucked snugly away in the basement of my parents home in the Ozarks. I was astonished at this fiction! In describing her "vision" of Paul the Apostle, Mz Cauldwell "put her finger" on ME, time after time. And, as I continued thru the tome of her "conjecture", I got strangely stronger and more alive on the inside. [Unbeknownst to me, God's "Hound Of Heaven" was Stalking His prey, and "had me" nearly to the "Narrow-Wicket" of God's Discipline; Repentance!]

I no sooner put the book down, having finished the final page, when the phone upstairs rang: it was Larry Pickard, the Quaker Preacher and Missionary to the Oklahoma Indians from [one of] the Oldest Quaker Mission Churches, little "Honey Creek Church"... which my folks attended. Larry had heard I was "back", and would I consider being a last-minute "counselor" at the Summer Camp which was to begin the very next day? My mother made me get up & take the call, and I again found myself mysteriously acquiescing involuntarily. Strange!?

The kids we very young, very small. I don't know their ages, but they only came up to about my knees. They had big trusting eyes, and laughter and tears both came gurgling out of them with routine gusto. They thought I was something. They were my undoing. I had no idea I was falling in love with these little Ambassadors of Holy Unction; neither did they!

The very last day arrived and we all faced inevitable goodbyes; goodbye to campfires & camp songs; goodbye to secrets whispered under the covers to each other just before giving up a marvelous day of exhaustion and activity; goodbye to friends that suddenly became soul-mates and blood-brothers; goodbye to each other's sharing and time-spent and company. No more chow line in the morning when you'd rather be snug in bed; no more chiggers and critters and wilderness in your hair; no more companionship-closeness, as only at camp.

We were all seated together for the very last time in a small, cramped classroom for a "flannel-graph" of the many Names of Jesus. One of the Quaker Minister's wives was in front, doing a nice job, as it were. And, "squoze" into one of those combination desk/seats the size of a third grader, I sat at the back of the room admiring my "little ones" and just how attentively they were soaking up all this fascinating information about Jesus.

We had been talking a great deal about Jesus at the camp over the last few days. One of the Quaker Ministers there was an Evangelical Quaker. [Quite a thing, in Quakerism... rare, I think] One night, I was asked to strum an auto harp at fireside and sing a Hymn I thought was horrible! I hated the tune, thinking it awkward and 'old-timey'. And I had been shown a "hideous" and "tacky" copy of the painting that was inspired by this Hymn; you've seen it... a young lad, clad in yellow oil-slicker & hat, windswept and storm-blown at the helm of a masted ship in a squall. Over His right shoulder an arm points the way thru the dark and the night and the fear of the storm. And from behind him stands Jesus, His hand held firm on the boy's left shoulder, while pointing and guiding the Way the lad should go. The Hymn was "Jesus Saviour Pilot Me!" [the one that plays when you open this page] Because of Christ's unfathomable Mercy and Love, I have since grown to love both Hymn AND the painting!

[As a side note, I should add that while I was musing over which hymn to select for this testimony, it was suggested to me - rather brashly I thought - that it might be more appropriate to use "It took a MIRACLE!"]

I started to strum the tune and to sing, and the song warmed me more than the blaze of the great fire before me. I finished in tears only to notice most everyone else was too. Disappearing into the shadows, I left the group that last night before the last day - to "have it OUT with god, once and for ALL!" I was tired of all this turmoil inside me. And I was sick and hurting too.

I went under a tree somewhere and came flatly to the point: "Now look here! I do NOT believe you are Real! I do NOT believe you are Alive like they say! As far as I am concerned, you are just a myth; a lie! And all of these people, as kind and sweet and concerned and well-meaning as they might be... and all these kids and stuff notwithstanding... I think it's all BUNK! Tell you what... if you ARE real, if you ARE Alive... even if you don't have a tangible body like I do, you COULD Prove yourself to me! Sooo.... you PROVE to me that you're real, that you are Really Alive like you Say... and, well, you can HAVE my life! God knows I've mucked it up something fierce! I don't have any plans for it, that's for sure! You PROVE to me, without any shadow of a doubt in my mind that you Really Exist like you Say, and I'll give my life to you, and I will BE yours [just like they say], and you can Ask Anything you Want of me and I'll DO it! So THERE!"

Nothing happened! Dead silence. But somehow, I felt better; like I'd gotten "it" off my chest, somehow. And now I was sitting in the back of this tiny classroom for a last gaze on these wonderful little "urchins" that had nudged their way into my heart with their adorable innocence, their harmless ways, their spontaneous zest for a life I'd given up on, and their humble, open hearts just drinking in everything that Evangelical Quaker Minister's wife was serving them. At the end, she did something I wasn't prepared for. It came unexpectedly.

She said, "Okay now... I want all of you to put your little heads down on the desk and close your eyes for a closing prayer before we go out & get on the busses to go home." They did. And she began to pray. She prayed for their Salvation. She Asked the Lord for their little souls. She spoke plainly, clearly, simply; so the children could understand exactly what she was Asking for. And then she finished. But then she said, "Now, no one raise your head up... and everyone keep your eyes closed real tight!" At this point I had no idea what was happening or what she was about to do, but, being a Counselor myself, I of course "backed her up". I kept my head bowed on the desk just like they were supposed to. But I peeked - just to make sure they were all "minding", mind you... and they were! Not one little eye was opened! It was a dramatic moment. And you could feel something in the room, just then.

And then she said, "Okay. All of you who would like to give your lives to Jesus, simply raise your little hands." I was stunned! But I kept peeking. And, one at a time, every single small arm raised in child-like Obedience and humble Acceptance of what I KNEW they truly understood was a commitment to Jesus Christ. I was so humiliated by their honesty and sincerity,.... I raised mine as well.

God took the word of this liar, and has been making it "Good", (& an Honest man of me), ever since! I had no real idea then just what I'd done... anymore, I am sure, than did any of those kids that day. But we took the Oath together! I was WITH them, then. And they are yet with me, today, in my heart, as is my Beloved Jesus.

God Placed a Banner over my head that day emblazoned with Words I have never since been able to reference: "And I will take you into My wine press, and place Love in Right-Order in your Heart!" Well, He Is!

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