Having a Personal Relationship with God—Really?! – Steve Orr

Matters of the Heart:

When I was young, I grew up as what is commonly called, “an unchurched youth”—Except for the time when my mom’s conscience was pricked with the notion that she was raising a heathen and made me go to church for six months. Then, for reasons unknown, she became re-disenchanted and stopped attending.

I was glad for this turn of events because church was just so boring to my nine-year-old mind, except for the time the Sunday School teacher took us to the matinee where I watched two movies: the epic “Ten Commandments” with Charleton Heston, followed by a lame, cinematically amateurish Jesus movie.

When mom came to pick me up, the Sunday School teacher sought me out and asked what I thought about the movies. I said I really liked the first movie, where Moses used his magic staff to free his people from slavery. All those miracles were amazing and gratifying.

“What about the second movie?” she inquired as my mom looked on. My boyish response was that it was boring, because the Jesus character was such a wimp, he was a complete failure because he couldn’t come down from the cross and save himself and his disciples from the Romans.

I can still see the look of horror on their faces to this day.

My punishment was my mom doubling down by making me sit in church, where they taught the adults. This was even more boring than Sunday School. Thankfully, I was able to go back to my heathen ways when my mom disagreed with something and stopped attending.

But one thing from this church experience really stuck with me. The power of prayer.

My Dad found a rancher in North Dakota that had some puppies to give away. The puppies were half English Collie and half wolf. When we got there, I saw nine puppies, all of them were black, but the one with a white cross on her chest stood out and seemed to like me, so I chose her instead of a boy dog. After we returned home, Dad teased me saying, “I don’t know why you like that dog so much, she ain’t worth a plugged nickel.” So I named her Penny.

Penny was fun and playful. Sometimes this got her into trouble. While I was on the playground with a friend, she got on the slide, then fell and broke her front leg. After it healed we moved to Abilene, Kansas. That’s where Penny chased a rabbit and was hit by a car and severely injured. Mom called a cab to take her to the vet, and all the vet did was put her in a cage and wait for her to die.

That night, I prayed for the first time in my life. I put my hands together because I saw pictures of people doing that. Then I prayed what was probably one of the most needy and sincere prayers of my life. Of course, to gain God’s favor, I made many promises to him, all of which I’m sure were broken several times over.

For three days, I walked to school, passed the vet’s office, and wondered if Penny was still alive. The vet eventually concluded that Penny was a tough dog and performed restorative surgery on her. One of her hind legs was partially paralyzed and there was nothing that could be done to fix it.  The other was badly broken and bound together with a metal rod. Immobilizing this leg required a plaster cast held in place by a fixture about six inches longer than the leg.

For a long time, Penny had to lay still in the living room and look at me with her sad eyes. Early every morning, my Dad had to pick her up and hold her hind end so she could “do her business” on the front lawn while he smoked a cigarette. Penny liked the fresh morning air, so she prolonged the time before doing her business. Dad had to spit out his smoke before it burned his lips. I’m sure he said a few bad words in those moments.

After a month or so, with the big cast replaced by a smaller one, Penny tried take a few steps. But because the hind legs were so weak, she had to support herself with just her front legs. She learned to walk on just her front legs with ten steps for every of bounce on her back legs. Then it was five steps for every bounce. Eventually, she was able to “walk” unassisted with her bouncing hind end. It was a weird thing to witness.

It was a long and painful road to recovery for me to watch, but recover she did.

After a few more months, she could run faster than me. All of this exercise made her front legs, torso, and neck very strong. She was an intimidating sight. Not only was she fierce looking, she was fiercely loyal to me, and she protected me with an even more intimidating growl. None of the bullies in the neighborhood made jokes about my dog.

Later, I met a friend who joined me on the walking to our Cub Scouts meeting. We came to the corner where he said, “This is where it happened. I saw my older brother when he was killed by a truck that ran over him on this spot.” I was horrified beyond words. I was an only child and had always wanted a brother. My friend saw the shock on my face and said it happened the year before,  he knew his brother was in heaven and he was finally able to talk about it. He put on a good show, but I still prayed for him and his family and cried for them when I went to bed that night.

Years later, we moved to Maryland and my folks were able to buy a nice place in the country. When I went hunting with Penny by my side and my shotgun on my shoulder. I suppose that I, too, was a fearsome sight. Penny lived a long, happy life as the most special dog among the many I’ve had over the years.

Even though we didn’t go to church, my prayer experiences were life-changing.

Then, everything fell apart when I was 15.

I woke up too early on a Saturday morning, and the only thing to watch on the local public TV station was an interview with a church pastor. My interest was piqued when the host asked, “How can we come to believe and know that God exists?” I thought, “What a lame, softball question. The God expert is going to hit that one out of the park.” He struck out, saying that “you just have to come to church to learn. Then you just keep trying to believe God exists, then try some more, try again and again, and eventually, you’ll believe there is a God and have a personal relationship with him.”

“What?! This sounded like brainwashing to me! It seems like people are creating God in their own image based entirely on their imagination.” I started to wonder, “Where’s God?”

I knew that Penny’s healing could be explained by the extraordinary surgery from and the veterinarian and the biological survival mechanisms which God built into his creatures. My own personal experience with God through the ordeal with Penny haunted me. What was God up to?

I had to pray about this! In my mind I distinctly “heard” this silent thought, “It’s not about you and your dog. It’s about you and me.” God was not interested in miraculously healing Penny for me. He had something in mind for me that was much more important. God wanted me to pray to him because he wanted a personal relationship with me even though I was a clueless nine years old kid.

God wants a personal relationship with all of his children. How could I dismiss people having a personal relationship with God when I had my own? Perhaps people disregard personal relationships with God until they have one of their own. There must be more to such matters.

No matter how dysfunctional churches and church people may be, as the parable teaches, God’s seed is scattered far and wide. And one seed fell on the fertile ground of my child-like heart and took root in my soul. In this, I am no more special than others.

Despite Christ-less religion’s successful warring against many churches, and despite the ineffectiveness of this religious evangelism, as the parable of the scattered seeds teaches (Mark 4:3–9), God’s seeds of truth are scattered far and wide. And one seed fell on the fertile ground of my child-like heart and took root in my soul. In this, I am no more special than others. Doesn’t the thought of children seeking understanding in a senseless world touch your heart? It certainly touches God. Let us pray for the children.

Of course, these deeply personal issues are “Matters of the Heart.”

Steve Orr writes to us from Montana. After working in the mecca of technology, Steve traded the rat race of Silicon Valley for the adventures of High Tech in Big Sky Country. Steve has an MBA with experience in accounting, finance, technology, and management. He occasionally writes a little software code, but mostly he likes writing about Matters of the Heart.