The Journey Part 3

It was the summer of 1973. The U.S. was looking for a way to save face and get out of Viet Nam. I was a B-52 mechanic in the U.S. Air Force. I was stationed in Guam. We were working 12 hour shifts, 7 days a week launching and recovering up to 30 aircraft per day. Each one was loaded with up to 66 five hundred pound bombs. We were carpet bombing Viet Nam and Cambodia providing cover for our troops as they were loading up to leave the country. Then it dawned on me. Those bombs were killing people, and in many cases innocent civilians, some of who were children.

It was the first time I understood that "collateral damage" was a term used as a euphemism that included not only property, but people as well. This thought played on my mind each day as I reported for duty and left me restless each night as I tried to sleep.

One evening, after completing my duty shift, I returned to the barracks to find one of my fellow airmen passed out drunk sleeping on my bunk. I literally lost it. I flew into a blind rage and I grabbed the guy by the neck and started choking him. I was later told that it took 5 guys to pry me loose. I didn't remember much, other than I was angrier than I had ever been.

I stripped the bed of the sheets and headed to laundry supply to get some clean bedding. I returned, hastily made my bed and lay down on my back with my hands behind my head staring at the bottom of the bunk above me. One of the other fellows in our cubicle of bunks whom I had never even shared a greeting said to me, "The answers to the questions you have are found in the Bible." That's all he said. I never saw him again. I later learned that he was transferred to another base the next day.

As I lay there stewing in my frustration, the words played in my head like a tape recording over and over. All at once I remembered that I was given a Bible by the Gideon's when I was inducted into the armed services. I had carried it dutifully with me to basic training, technical training, my first home base assignment and then on to my tour of duty to Guam. I had never read the Bible, and it wasn't much more than a good luck charm to me. I proceeded to open my locker and dump all of the contents on my bed. There at the bottom of the duffel bag was the little green Gideon's New Testament.

I started to read at the beginning and sensed that the words were written specifically for me. I was introduced to the person and work of Jesus and his followers. I read the entire New Testament in two days. At the back of the Bible was a "decision" page. It had a simple prayer to recite and a space to sign my name and provide the date. On November 11, 1973 I surrendered my life to Jesus as my Savior and Lord.

There are a lot of details that add color commentary to this part of the journey, but the most important part has been recorded. I was now a new creature, a believer and follower of Jesus.

That night I set my radio alarm clock for 6AM. At precisely 6AM the radio turned on and I was awakened to Johnny Nash singing, "I can see clearly now the rain is gone. All of the dark feelings have disappeared. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day." My heart leapt inside of me, as I was instantly convinced that those words were absolutely true. To this day every time I hear that song I remember that I have given my life to Jesus and his promises are true and sure. Imagine that, God would use a secular singer, song-writer to confirm his work in me. I l ike to jokingly say that Rod Stewart and Johnny Nash were instrumental in leading me to Jesus.

I was transferred back to the States four days later. That's where I'll pick up the story.

The Journey Part 2

I was born and raised in a Roman Catholic family. Coming from a Hispanic background it was expected that the family would be Catholic and raise their children as Catholics. Although we were baptized as infants, my parents were mostly non-practicing Catholics except for a couple of periods when they experienced a spiritual awakening of sorts and attended Mass regularly for a period of time.

I remember as a youngster being taken to the neighborhood parish. The first thing that I saw upon entering the church was the very high ceilings, the smell of incense and the beautiful stained glass windows. I recall very intense feelings of awe and mystery but didn't understand much of what went on during the service because it was done in Latin. Nevertheless I saw people young and old genuflecting (kneeling and crossing themselves before they entered and left the pews), holding rosary beads, and women with their heads covered with shawls and hankies. In the midst of all of the ritual, symbol and liturgy, I was convinced that there was a higher power behind it all, but He seemed obscure and hidden.

At that time the public schools had early release for children who wanted to leave class in order to participate in catechism (instruction in Catholicism to prepare for First Communion). I took advantage of early release, certainly to get out of school, but mostly because I was interested in spiritual matters. I finished the catechism course and partook of first communion at the age of ten. It was a big deal in our family. My parents bought me a suit and even threw a party. I was now officially able to participate in communion every Sunday if I also went to confession on Saturday evenings in preparation.

I continued in Catholic instruction in order to be confirmed. The bishop was invited to confirm our confession of faith and to impart to us the Holy Spirit. At least that is the way it was explained to me although I never fully understood it. It was another excuse to have a nice party and I felt more spiritual than ever. This was all well and good, but then puberty struck. I drifted from Catholic mass observance and got involved in what all adolescents do during that stage of life. I won't bore you with the details.

About that time (15 years old) my Dad had another awakening experience. Although I wasn't all that interested personally, I was impressed with what this awakening did for him. I especially remember a time when he was preparing to drive me to school in subzero weather in Chicago. He hummed spiritual songs as he scraped ice off the windows and he seemed so calm, peaceful and unbothered by anything at all. I was glad for the influence on his life because those couple of years of his spiritual renewal were some of the best years I remember as a young man growing up.

During high school I felt a sense of emptiness, like something was missing, but I didn't necessarily associate it with a spiritual need. I got involved in all manner of things to attempt to fill the void, but nothing seemed to work. High school was a bore and I made the ultimate bad decision of adolescence, I quit high school 3 months before graduation.

I loved the freedom of not being confined to school. I had a decent little job and just hung out and had fun for a few months. It wasn't until the next fall, when all of my friends went to school (high school and college) that I felt that emptiness return. I was walking to my job listening to my transistor radio when Rod Stewart's "Maggie May," was played. "Wake up Maggie I think I've got something to say to you. It's late September and I really should be back at school." The words hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was later able to interpret this experience as one of the first moves the Lord inititated to get my attention. Imagine that, God used Rod Stewart to get my attention. I did an inventory of my life and realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere unless I finished high school. I enrolled in the Air Force and finished high school through the Air Force Academy. I knew at that point that I had filled the gap that existed between where I was and where I thought I needed to go. Through the G.I. Bill I intended to go on to college, then law school and become an attorney. Apparently there were other plans for my life, as the emptiness returned. The spiritual void seemed more intense than ever. I commenced with asking the hard questions of life and had no answers.

Another chapter was yet to be written.