Oct 21
8
The Faith of Enoch . . .
…and HOW to get it (Part 3)
Almost 65 years ago, at the age of 24, I literally yelled, “Jesus, if you are real, take over my life, I need help.”
That created a shift within me, from declaring that it was impossible to know if there was a God to realizing I had my own personal emissary from God.
STOP! PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING, AND THEN COME BACK HERE (to Part 3).
Please note, that whatever I had heard about Jesus previously –to this experience of demanding that he take over my life– I had steadfastly insisted that it was impossible to know how and if he might have any connection to God; and that includes whatever label you insist on attaching to the name “Jesus” and no matter how you insist on spelling it, please click on or copy and paste the link below into your browser, it will open to a Brad Cullen article I wrote in 2011, Who is Jesus?
http://spiritualhealingsource.com/?p=1820
Did I really have to impose that ten year old article on you? Well, Jesus suggested I enter the question into the search box of the SHS website and I was surprised that it was even a part of the Being Jesus series; I certainly don’t remember writing that segment.
The point I’m making is that Jesus and I never stopped talking to one another. It was with his approval that I began this series about the faith of Enoch.
What happened almost 65 years ago that caused the grip of Agnosticism around my mind to let go?
In a nutshell, I had been sleep-deprived for several days and compounded the problem by drinking too much. I was an owner-operator of an over-the-road, diesel-powered rig, rolling night and day, and catching a nap with head on the huge steering wheel of the old Kenworth (one of the last ones produced in the Seattle factory in 1944, until after World War II ended).
It was a Saturday, in 1957, and I was fighting sleep so that I could make it home to my wife and family for the first time in over a week. I’d forgotten that I promised her I’d be home in time to go out with friends to a nightclub to hear a band.
It had been eighteen hours, since I’d had about an hour nap while they were loading my rig 600 miles to the north, near the California-Oregon Border. The destination was San Diego, and my home was roughly half way there in San Leandro on the east side of the San Francisco Bay.
My since-then-deceased wife saw that I was not only exhausted, but under the influence of the staple of “wild-cat” truck operators of the era, Benzedrine and caffeine, and with far more wisdom than I, tried to talk me out of keeping my promise and we went out. I remember little.
The next morning was a different story. I woke up with a hangover of huge proportions. Made myself two pots of coffee with which I washed down a couple of “Bennies” –I actually claimed to be acting responsibly, because I was scared to death I might cause an accident wielding a 60’ “eighteen wheeler,” weighing close to forty tons, on the then mostly two lane, winding and dangerous, U.S. 101 “Coast Highway,” all the way to San Diego– if I was not wide awake and alert.
As I was making my last minute check of tires, lights, and cables holding the load, I remember, vividly, feeling light-headed and very afraid – growing rapidly into a full blown panic attack, terrified that I was literally going crazy from all the abuse I had put my body through.
I went to the rear of the truck and yelled for the first time in my memory, “Jesus, if you are real, take over my life, I need help!”
I had shifted from being an Agnostic to believer and a deep sense of peace came over me; I knew that I would have a safe and uneventful trip with a new and closest friend.
It would be many, many years before I would experience the “faith of Enoch,” but it was the beginning of the road that led to it. The Faith of Enoch is an, as yet, unfinished series, I have no idea what Part 4 will bring, but Part 3 ends here.
d/”b”