“Minister” On A Motorcycle
“Never travel faster than your guardian angel can fly.”
― Mother Teresa
When I was in High School. I was a lot to handle. I was rebelling against everything. It was the late sixties and the world was in turmoil. My Junior Year my mom was spending a great deal of her spare time in women’s bible studies and I know all the women were praying for me. I was like a young wild horse with the bit in my teeth, going fast as I could in the woods, paying no attention to the low hanging branches. I loved God. I prayed, but I wasn’t following Him like I had been, I was going too fast to follow anyone. Except my tight group of girlfriends and they were a bit too wild.
I was not promiscuous however. I didn’t believe in it. I didn’t care that it was the time for free love. I was raised to be a virgin when I married and I was holding to it. I didn’t care what the boys in my class thought about the idea one bit. But I was troubled. I wasn’t close to my dad for the first time in my life. I’m not sure why. We were having trouble communicating, I supposed like many fathers and teenage daughters of that day.
One beautiful spring day a young man drove his motorcycle into our suburb. He was going door-to-door raising money for a “mission” trip he was taking to save the souls of the Native Americans in Arizona. No matter how ludicrous that sounds today, this was at the height of the Jesus Movement and people were buying what he was selling…I’m not trying to demean people of pure intent in their desire to spread the gospel, but I had reason to believe later that this guy was not on the up and up. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I was an idealist. And wanted to change the world. If Native Americans would be better off as this man said, I was for it. And I would help if I could. Many of the people in my suburb felt the same way and contributed to this cause, including Colonial Church, the one I had found coming home from Junior High.
How did I meet this “minister” on a motorcycle. Well, amazingly my mother’s bible study introduced us. They thought he would be a good influence on me. Now I hesitate to write about this because I think good Christian people are often made to look foolish today and I don’t want to contribute to it. These were well meaning people trying to help me, who grasped at the nearest straw. Also, this man was a supreme manipulator.
So, I started traveling with him after school on his motorcycle. I didn’t ask God if I should, I just did. I assumed I was in His will without asking. My mom was okay with it because so many people she respected were. This went on throughout the summer. As you might imagine happened, this young man said he fell for me. He wanted to marry me and take me with me to Arizona to help him in his ministry. I was very taken with the whole situation, drawn in and captivated. I was all for the idea. Fortunately for me, I was too young to get married without parental consent. Whew!
I went out of town with my girlfriend for the weekend and had a fun time. I slowed down enough for my guardian angel to catch up with me like Mother Teresa says. I came to my senses and realized this guy was a nut, trying to marry me! He probably just wanted me! BFI “Blinding flash of insight” as my best friend Lynn would say! So I came back into town to break up with him.
I told him so and he talked me into coming to his house because he had something to tell me…I said I would and he picked me up and brought me to his place in town. He lived with his parents still. I never thought I would not be safe. We were talking in his garage and he said that while I was gone God told him that we should have a ceremony of our own. That we would be married in the eyes of God. And I could live with him. I knew something was terribly wrong and told him I had to go home. I asked him, adamantly to take me there.
Instead he raped me. I was heartbroken. Stunned and confused. No one had ever talked about date rape back then so it took me a while to figure out that I had, in fact, been raped. I lived in guilt and shame for quite some time. I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know what to say. I just lived with it. I couldn’t believe I would not be a virgin when I married. I couldn’t believe something I was protecting and fighting to keep was gone and so soon.
I cried out to God. I couldn’t hear His response. Finally I ran away. I ran to a Young Life camp I had gone to with my church where a friend was working for the summer. I thought they were someone I could tell. They weren’t. They were horrified and ashamed for me. But my father found me there. My dearest friend. He took me back to his house and I stayed there with his dear wife and my little sister Sara.
He and my step mom paid me the supreme compliment of asking me to live with them. I did for two weeks and then I knew it was time to go home. I never told another soul until I was older, and it was a friend who loved and brought healing to my heart. My dad was my rescuer, but I was my mom’s so home I went. God healed my heart. And in time healed and restored all that had been taken from me. Was I a virgin when I married? Yes, absolutely! God makes all things new!