From the Pit to the Pulpit

Testimony

of

PitStop

I was raised with four brothers and two sisters in the small town of McGill, Nevada by parents who struggled to make ends meet. My mother was raised Catholic, while my father was raised in the Mormon Church. As a result of these two views of church life, church attendance was not something high on my parent’s priorities. I did occasionally attend a few Baptist youth functions with a nearby family, however the church and this Jesus guy was not for me. By age eight, I had began the habit of cigarette smoking, and by age twelve I was well on my way to living a life apart from God or the laws of the land. My desired way of life was built on the dreams of being a member of one of the country’s most notorious outlaw motorcycle clubs. At age eight and with the goal of being an “outlaw biker” I got my first bike. It was a Rupp mini-bike. You may laugh, however that mini-bike represented for me not only freedom, but one step closer to living the life I wanted. Next I received a used Honda 90 for Christmas and drove it all day in approximately nine inches of snow, but it did not matter because I was riding. I then procured a new Honda XL 70 and began to mimic the life of Bronson, from the 1969 NBC series “Then Came Bronson.”  Bronson rode his Harley Davidson Sportster all over the country and lived life as he chose to live it. He symbolized for me, the freedom I desired to live, which was life unto myself, with little care for anyone else. And so, with hair down past my shoulders, a brown leather motorcycle jacket, and a self made motorcycle club patch, I was ready to enter the rough and tumble world of bikerdom.  

With a desire to build my own Harley chopper, I needed ideas, so I began to steal monthly issues of Easyrider magazine from the local drug store and its owner Jerry Culbert. Eventually, Jerry caught on that it was me and confronted me with the evidence which was folded in half and slid inside my boot. Jerry did not involve the authorities or my parents, but rather if it happened again he would press charges. My father knew my passion for motorcycles and bought two used Triumph Bonneville 650cc motorcycles for myself and my brothers. My older brother then purchased a Harley Davidson from a Salt Lake City police auction, and later prospected with the Misfits Motorcycle Club. Then another brother purchased and chopped a Honda 750, and we were on our way to living the biker life. At age thirteen drinking was becoming a part of my lifestyle, all the while knowing how it affected many members of my family. I began to associate myself with the Roadrunners Motorcycle Club. During the summer of my fourteenth year, I with the cooperation of my friend, stole a car and escalated our wild lifestyle. By age sixteen I had become involved in the drug culture and more illegal activities with friends. Such people as Scott, who was my best friend and partner in crime. Following High School, Scott shot two men to death and is now serving a life sentence in the Nevada State Prison. Scott and I both had a thing for guns. Scott even shot at me in anger, just grazing my head by six inches. With my ear powder burned, the slug made its way through the bed headboard, out the wall and into the street. Being small, but with a tough demeanor I found myself confronting a local teenager out of anger. It evolved into a knife fight, but was short lived when an all out brawl broke loose among our individual friends. He later served time for robbery. My indifference towards God and the church hit an all time low, when one night after having indulged myself, and ingesting plenty alcohol, I broke out all the windows from the local Mormon church. Following this incident, I just wanted to get on my scoot and ride out of the small flea bitten town with the wind in my hair and the town in my rear view mirror. Well my desire for freedom was short-lived, when I was detained by our local sheriff and juvenile delinquent officer for my actions and spent the next three summer months working for the Mormon Church to repay my debt.

My junior and senior years seemed to be remembered only as a foggy haze with no real progression towards building my chopper. My problems began to mount, including my relationship with my girlfriend, who is now my wife of some 29 years. My wild child spirit needed something new, so I enlisted in the United States Navy on July 18, 1976. The Navy, and particularly the Uniform Code of Military Justice, affectionately known as the UCMJ began to wean me from my wild ways with the exception of my alcoholic desires. I married Elizabeth on July 5, 1977 and three months later deployed to the Western Pacific for nine months. During this time of separation, I plunged my life into the depths of sin and began to drink with “gusto” my life and problems away.

Returning home and back to my wife I began to hit the wall and eventually came to a crossroad not only in my life and relationship with my wife, but also in my drinking. I not only, did not have my Harley chopper and my free wheelin’ life, but now I didn’t have a stable marriage either. Seemingly, I had hit the proverbial wall. In August of 1978, at the very break-point of our marriage, we drug ourselves into a local Baptist church in a last ditch effort to save our marriage. As is custom of many Baptist pastors, the pastor visited my wife and me the following day. It was there on my couch that I first realized that God truly did love me, cared for me, would forgive me, and had a plan for my life. As the old song says, “I saw the light!” It was God who took away the desires to drink and live like hell. He indeed changed my life for evermore! Interestingly, a year later God called me into the ministry. I was discharged from the Navy July of 1980 and entered college that Fall at Wayland Baptist University. I began to pastor a local Baptist church and moved on to my seminary studies at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas. Following graduation from seminary, I pastored Victory Baptist Church in Nampa, Idaho until 1992 when I received a commission in the United Stated Navy and entered to serve as a navy chaplain. I am currently on active duty and now ride bike again, but this time for Jesus. I began to hang around the Son’s of God Motorcycle Club and eventually went from a slick back to that of a full patchholder.  

Years ago there was a desire to wear an outlaw biker club patch, but God has replaced that desire and placed His Son not only in my heart, but also on my back. The two club patches indeed symbolize life and death. I eventually chose life, I trust you will too! I had come to a crossroad in my life and I needed a change in direction. Perhaps you are at a crossroad in your life.  Heed the following words and choose life “eternal” over the eternal grip and penalty of death.

“AT THE CROSSROAD”

**“It is easy to follow the path down into Hell; where day enters into night, and the gates of DEATH stand wide open. This gate is easy to enter, but to find an exit, retrace one’s steps, and climb back up into the light of day, here lies the most difficult task.” One that most poor souls find it impossible to accomplish, but for the few of us that have made it, Life begins a new journey. Living with death, but not fearing it. The voice of the path will always beckon you, but it is only you who can decide if you listen or ignore this warning I pass on to you. For you see, I have followed this same path through the gates of Hell, only to find, LIES, HATRED, VIOLENCE, SORROW, MISERY, UNIMAGINABLE PAIN, and DEATH. I was lucky enough to fight and survive to make my way out into the light of day, but many around me never found their way out and are trapped for eternity. The choice is yours, think long and hard before you decide. But ultimately the choice is only yours! Choose wisely!

Praise God, Jesus Changes Lives! 

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17

 ** Virgil: The Aeneid