16-Summer in Hawaii Was My Pig Pen
I was getting more and more entrenched in riotous living, described in various Bible translations as: foolish living, wild living, living wastefully.
…the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Luke 15:13 NASB
This description barely fits but it gets the point across. I was the oldest daughter, not the youngest son. The wealth that I possessed was not monetary, but consisted of decent looks, purity, and adequate intelligence. I went on a journey in 1965 to the distant country called Living for Myself –also called Rebellion Against God.
I misused the character traits and qualities my parents and my God had instilled in me. I engaged in loose living. Loose living as described on Interglot.com is defined as moral laxity.
Two good teaching friends, Susan and Betty, and I, planned a trip to Hawaii during our summer break in 1974. I did not know that what was really about to happen was that I was coming to the end of myself.
We met some hippies our first day at the beach. They were all smiles and were ‘high’ on Jesus.
It was the tail end of the Jesus Revolution, also known as the Charismatic Renewal. They were real true Jesus Freaks.
A woolly-haired disheveled bright-eyed man asked me if I was on the narrow road or the wide road. I brashly and shamelessly threw out my arms and proclaimed that I was on the w-i-d-e road and that I loved the wide road.
He told me that the narrow road led to life and that the wide road led to destruction.
I probably made some patronizing comment as I made my way down the beach to our towels and beach chairs and wine coolers. I was having a wild ride on the highway of unrestraint and overindulgence.
That Spirit-filled crazy guy is the first person I want to see in heaven. I believe if it were not for him I would not have very quickly after that been reunited with my Father and my family.
I am forever grateful that He shared the Word, because it bore fruit in my life.
Fifteen years later when we were living in San Francisco, I saw a bag lady wandering the streets. She was wearing a heavy wool coat on a fine day, and had a desperate and forlorn countenance.
I felt I heard a Voice inside me say something like, “that would have been your condition if you had not turned your life over to Me.”
I don’t know that woman’s story, but I understood that I could have continued down the wide road and grown old with a wrecked body, a twisted mind, friendless, and alone.
Yet– God was waiting for me with open arms for the entire eight years of my mutiny against Him.
When I gave my life to Him, it was with a depth of remorse and gratitude that bonded us together, entwined our hearts, and united our spirits. I have been confused about His ways, surprised by His convictions, often fearful during my pilgrimage, taken as many side steps as forward steps—but He has proven Himself to be my Protector, my Refuge, My Faithful Friend, My Deliverer, My Provider, My Healer, and much more.