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Tom's Lonely Journey to Jesus
God’s way is never what one would consider the logical course of events. No one would ever believe that God would choose one like me to pour out his blessings and miraculous saving power, but he did and I stand in awe of it. I am sure others are bewildered by me, and I am positively sure of being loved by God. God has always loved me—warts and all!I was the youngest of four children, and from the time of conception, I have always felt unwanted. In fact, at 16, my mother told me that I was “unwanted, even in the womb” and locked me out of her house. I already knew it from the beginning, in my heart. (Mom died at age 85; to my regret, she never apologized for not wanting me. It was all I wanted from her!)
Unwanted and Violent
As a child, I found no one to hold to or to tell me that I was loved. I was violent from the time I was old enough to speak and walk. I took what I wanted. I asked once; if my wish was not granted, I took it by force. I have been looked down upon, deemed unnecessary and a hindrance to others. Consequently, I spent what should have been the carefree days of childhood, in loneliness. I have been unwanted by man and rejected by the world.I never heard my parents pray openly. Mom was in hospitals for most of my first nine years of life. At the couch we kneeled. I never heard any words. I suppose my dad was praying. At the end he would say amen. (How I would have loved to hear him speaking to God!)
We went to church every week until I was nine. Dad saw to that; but, I don’t remember one sermon or if I went to Sunday School. My parents divorced when I was nine. All four of us children were sent to different places to live in other states. Less than a year later, my dad was killed in an electrical accident.
I was sent to live with my mom’s parents, and for the next four years was abused mentally, physically, and sexually by my grandfather. Finally, after a physical fight with him, I left him lying in the driveway. Grandma told me to help her find all the guns and ammo and she hid them! (Grandma Bailes was the most wonderful person I have known to this day.) I know my grandfather would have tried to kill me, like he attempted to do to one of his sons. He called my oldest brother in Chicago to come get me, and he came that day from 400 miles away.
Unfortunately, I got into drinking and the gang scene shortly afterwards. I would stay drunk for days at a time. This didn't do my school life any good. In the first week of the ninth grade, I knocked out the teacher over a gang related matter. I was banned from school with an eighth grade education.
Living on the Streets
No longer welcome in my mother's home, the next step was living on the streets. During the cold Chicago winters, I slept in the basements of apartment buildings, using storage areas where people had stored mattresses. I slept in the parks, weather permitting. I was sticking folks up and taking what I wanted. I started hitchhiking across country to the West Coast. I spent years in jails for various offenses.I preyed on people in the streets, bars, and those that tried to help me. All of a sudden, my partner for years stopped hanging out with me. I was told by a mission preacher in down town Chicago that my friend Bill had accepted Jesus and moved back home to Nebraska.
I didn't realize it at the time, but God was with me. During my last run in with the law, I had committed armed robbery, assault, battery, and kidnapped a government man. I was facing the electric chair for the kidnapping. I was standing before the judge in leg irons and belly handcuffs. Armed police were all around me to protect the public. Several TV stations had set up in the courtroom to report on the trial. Unexpectedly, just minutes after the trial started, a man (my angel) entered the courtroom and handed the judge a paper. The judge looked at me in confusion for a long time, then called me up to the bench. With a bewildered look on his face, he announced that the charges had been dropped. (In 10 minutes, I went from facing the electric chair to a short stay in jail!)
Go to Page 2 of Tom's Lonely Journey to Jesus
