It was a midwinter night in the city of San Diego. Down along the waterfront there was little or no activity; occasionally, a darting taxi would flash into view, only to disappear around the corner of a deserted street. The riding lights of varied types of craft, against a foggy sky, moved in monotonous rhythm with the rise and fall of restless water. Intermittently the weirdly protesting groans of the hulls of vessels chafing against their moorings could be heard. Chill fingers of mist began to settle down here and there. As far as I could see, I was alone—not another human being in sight. Still on and on I trudged.
Long hours before I had begun this aimless wandering, and now, weary in body and mind and sick of soul, I still was as bewildered and lost as ever. Memories followed my every footstep. The faces of my wife and children kept appearing again and again upon the screen of my consciousness. How were they tonight? I had left them alone, and now here I was, a wanderer and a derelict! Wave after wave of self-condemnation swept my very soul.
A nearby piling offered a seat that I might rest my aching feet. The cardboard I had placed in my shoes to protect them where the soles were worn through had long since ceased to serve its purpose. Only the lapping of water against the wharf broke the stillness of the night. The sudden clanging of a ship’s bell startled me. Two! Four! Six! Eight! Eight bells! That must be four o’clock in the morning. I had walked all night in a kind of alcoholic stupor, for I had been drinking heavily in the effort to forget.
Shivering with the cold I sat there. Suddenly a trick of memory carried me back across the years. Echoes of all-but-forgotten old hymns came drifting out of the distant past. How vividly now I recalled the many times my Christian wife had pleaded with me to accept as my personal Saviour the Lord Jesus Christ whom she knew and loved so well. Her prayers and those of my children had followed me, I knew. All the years of my life, so far, my proud heart had rebelled against a full and complete surrender. I had gone my own willful way, and to a marked degree I had been successful in business, finally becoming executive manager of two radio stations. Now all this was a thing of the past. I was face to face with the dead-end street of life, at “eight bells in the morning watch.”
Eight bells! That was the end of the long night watch, and soon it would be morning. Morning to me meant just another dreary day. All at once it dawned on me that this morning would be Sunday morning. That was it! I needed God! I remembered mother’s often-told tale of the prodigal son. If ever there was a prodigal son, it was I.
I found my way back to the cheap room where I had been staying. I expected to be refused admittance, for I already owed a week’s rent, but I made it. I was desperate! Suddenly my eyes focused on a book, a Bible. I had hardly noticed its presence before, but now it seemed to hold out to me a faint ray of hope. Opening its pages, I placed it on a chair and knelt before it. I do not recall reading a single word. I simply began to pour out my heart to God, acknowledging my guilt as a sinner and declaring my faith in Jesus Christ to save my soul. “For Thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon Thee” (Psalm 86:55For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee. (Psalm 86:5)).
Then and there I passed from death to life. I became a “new creature” in Christ Jesus. An indescribably wonderful peace settled down upon my soul. The load was lifted; my weight of sin rolled away, and the “light of the knowledge of the glory of God” burst in upon my sin-sick, sin-cursed soul. I had found that “joy unspeakable and full of glory” (1 Peter 1:8), which is the sweetness of the indwelling presence of the Christ of God.
I tried to sing, but I could not, for my voice was completely gone. For almost a year and a half, my speaking voice was just a husky whisper. But prayer and praise do not depend on a human voice; they come from the heart, and God looks at the heart. “Oh God,” I prayed, “if You’ll only straighten out my life, I’ll serve You all the rest of my days.”
God began to work that very moment in my life. Would my wife take me back? I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t! I’d go back to Los Angeles and see. Carfare home? I didn’t have a penny. I’d have to hitchhike. I didn’t know how God was going to work it all out, but I had the absolute assurance that whatever came in my life would be best for me, and it was well with my soul. I had given my heart and my soul to my Lord, and the rest was up to Him.
So, at last I came back home to my wife and children. God alone knows how many sleepless nights she had prayed for my soul’s salvation. With the wonderful love of Christ in her heart she took me back. He is not only the healer of broken lives and broken hearts, but the healer of broken homes as well! How often since that day have I seen Him bring together estranged husband and wife in the sweet bonds of Christian fellowship!
“Him that cometh to Me [Jesus]
I will in no wise cast out.”