New Baby Calf on the Ranch--and Ye Must Be Born Again

 Recently when a happy surprise happened to me--an order coming in from my second cousin Anita Siedel for five of my recently published books--that got my sisters and my parents reminiscing. My sisters were emailing back and forth about which of my dad's cousins it was who asked him long years ago if he had ever been born again. 

"Born again? What was that?"

 Turns out it was Shirley Critchlow who asked that question of my dad. Shirley was the daughter of the youngest of thirteen Critchlow siblings, my great uncle Warren.  Shirley had gone to Asbury College, at that time a more conservative college in Wilmore, KY, where, years later there was a notable revival. But at this time, Shirley was talking to my dad, because she knew he was interested in spiritual things.  But when she asked him, "Have you ever been born again?" my dad had no clue what she was talking about.

My mom, a college graduate who secured a teaching position in Grove City, PA, had just moved into the second story apartment that my dad's mother was renting out. My dad was doing a small remodel of that apartment, and he and Mom began talking.

 Both my dad and my mom grew  up in urban Methodist churches where they were each active in their church.  My dad was even teaching an older youth Sunday school class--without ever knowing what it was to experience the gift of salvation, or knowing what it was to be born again. In my mom's final

year in college in Indiana, PA, her heart began to awaken to spiritual things, and she was searching before she arrived in Grove City.  She and my dad would discuss spiritual things, but neither of them know much of anything of a true Christian life.  My dad would suggest different churches, which my mom would try out, never finding what she was searching for.  But finally, as a last resort, my dad suggested the local Baptist church, within walking distance of their house. Another of my dad's sixty or so cousins, Bernice and her husband, lived in Harrisville and attended this Baptist church in Grove City.
 

My mom attended a morning service, feeling deeply convicted by both the message and more so by the moving special song sung by the pastor and a young lady, both with excellent voices. My mom, who is deeply touched by music, walked home deeply convicted of her sins and knowing she needed to be born again. She made her lunch, eating it alone, realizing all the while, that despite her best efforts at church attendance and doing the right things, all that, after all, was simply not the way to heaven. She was a sinner, as the preacher had shared from the Bible, a sinner who was NOT on her way to heaven, but on her way to hell if she kept on going as she was. "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God."

 

  Never had my mom felt so miserable!  Yet at the same time, as she walked back to church that night, she also felt a great hope. The Baptist preacher had not left her without hope. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (I John 1:9) "And if you will confess with your mouth and believe in your heart that Christ is risen from the dead, you shall be saved." (Romans 10:9)

 

    "I truly believe," my mom relates, about sixty years later, "that if I had been hit by a car and killed as I walked to church that night that I would have gone to heaven because I had already 'repented' in the only way I knew.  But after the evening message, I responded to the altar call and went forward and told the preacher that I had never been born again.  He motioned to one of the ladies, who came up and directed me to a prayer room just off the sanctuary."

There this lady continued to share the good news of the gospel with my mother and then prayed with my mom. This was the beginning of a new life in Christ. My mom had been born again!

"I walked home on clouds!" my mom remembers. 

So, boy oh boy, now it was Dad's turn! My mom had found peace and pardon for her sins, and my dad knew that was what he needed, too. 

Finally, in a little church revival in Harrisville, the Methodist evangelist gave the altar call and Brenton, my dad, was the first one to the altar. My mom was almost 22 when she was saved, and my dad was 26 when he was born again.

 

Having Christian parents or not makes no difference in whether or not each of us must be born again, too.  I was twelve when I began to really seek the Lord for forgiveness of my sins. I was a sinner, too. But one day I was born again, when I surrendered everything that I had and everything that I was to the Lord. 

What joy when there are newborns on the ranch! What greater joy when a sinner is born again into the family of God!