My Search for Real Happiness

IT WAS the summer of 1970, and I was in a forest near Revelstoke, British Columbia. Suddenly I fell to my knees and began praying fervently. The woods around me were beautiful enough to inspire awe and thanksgiving, but that was not what was moving me to prayer. I was, in fact, terrified. My bladder felt like a balloon blowing up and ready to burst. I was sure I was dying. It was terror that brought me to my knees. I was in the throes of an overdose of LSD and I was begging God not to kill me. Permit me to explain how I came to this scary state.

By the mid-1960's, changes were taking place in the California town where I lived. I was just a teenager at the time and adopted the way that seemed to promise real happiness.

Weekends found us chugging down a pint of gin to start off the evening's activities. Soon the alcohol gave way to drugs. Much of our time in school we were on LSD, hash or marijuana. Though there were some dedicated teachers, we made it practically impossible for them to do their job.

I enjoyed participating in sports and was progressing well, even winning a second-place medal in a wrestling tournament of the Northern Bay League. Then we began using amphetamines before sports activities so as to be 'wired up' with more power and endurance to play. But I soon lost all interest in sports, as did many of my friends. Drug abuse, excesses with alcohol, sexual immorality and material pursuits-these were the things we felt would bring real happiness.

I recall one time when some friends and I had not slept for two days because of having used amphetamines and LSD. So we decided to smoke some hash and drink some wine so as to bring us down, enabling us to sleep. About then, an individual whom I did not like came to the house to buy some marijuana from us. I decided that he shouldn't be there. I went to the closet and took out my hunting bow. I placed an arrow in the bow, drew and sent it flying. It missed his head by inches! The young man fled! But neither my roommates nor I fully appreciated what had taken place. What if I had killed him? I wasn't really a violent person, so why should I do something like that?

Early in 1970 my cousin Larry began speaking to me about the Bible. What he had to say was interesting. I had heard something of the Bible's message from his father, my uncle. Back in 1966 I had also attended some meetings at a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses. When Larry told me that the present world system of things will soon be brought to an end, I thought he had 'flipped out.' 'Would I like to study the Bible with him?' I accepted out of curiosity. We studied several times and I attended some meetings at the Kingdom Hall, but I found it easier to slide along with the system. So I quit studying.

Some friends and I decided to hitchhike up the California coast road toward Mendocino. And while waiting for a ride on one part of the road, one of the fellows with whom I was traveling found an Awake! magazine in a ditch on the side of the road. Since he knew that I had studied with the Witnesses, he gave it to me. The magazine had an eye-catching title, 'Is It Later Than You Think?' I looked at it for a few moments, reflecting on what my cousin had told me, and then threw it in my bag. When I arrived back home I put the magazine on my dresser, but it soon fell behind and was forgotten.

Some time later, we bought a kilo of marijuana and to celebrate we decided to bake a cake-with marijuana as the main ingredient. That morning we ate so much of the cake that we all got sick. Later we set out to clean up the house. While sweeping, I moved my dresser and what should fall out from behind but that Awake! When I saw that title again, it gave me a real jolt! It happened to be Sunday, so I decided to go to the Kingdom Hall and attend the meeting. For some weeks thereafter I continued attending the meetings and one of the Witnesses studied with me.

However, my bad associates soon dampened my rekindled interest. Once again I stopped studying. Every time I heard about the work of Jehovah's Witnesses or saw someone I knew was a Witness, I felt extremely uncomfortable. I just didn't want to hear about Jehovah's Witnesses again!

A friend and I decided to head for Canada. While buying some supplies for the trip, I met an elderly lady who was doing some shopping. She asked me if I knew where a certain product could be found. Usually, older people did not feel drawn to talk to me due to my appearance. Yet she was talking with me and was very kind at that. But when she told me that the products she was buying were for a Kingdom Hall-that ended the conversation. Those words made me feel condemned!

Soon we were on the road to Canada. We passed by a town where we had some acquaintances and stopped off for a few days. During a get-together there, I was speaking with a girl when she suddenly started talking about her sister in another town and saying that she was one of Jehovah's Witnesses! Some days later we picked up two girls who were hitchhiking. As we traveled along, one of them suddenly began speaking about some Jehovah's Witnesses that had just passed by in a bus! 'Why is everyone talking about Jehovah's Witnesses?' I asked myself in frustration.

Finally, we pitched camp near Revelstoke, British Columbia, and we decided to 'drop some acid,' that is, take some LSD. It wasn't long before I realized that something was seriously wrong. I had taken an overdose and began thinking that my bladder had blown up and that I was dying of urinary poisoning. I convinced myself that God had caused it because I had stopped studying the Bible.

It was at that point that I got down on my knees and asked God not to kill me, and that if he let me live I would serve him. I wandered around like this for some time before I came to my senses and realized that I really wasn't dying. Nevertheless, the next day I headed back for California, determined to resume my Bible study with the Witnesses. It was a real surprise to my family when I walked into my father's place of business shorn, shaved and in a suit, declaring that I was going to become one of Jehovah's Witnesses! I had resolved to give up my former life-style by September?1, 1970.

The first few weeks were very difficult. At one point, I got so depressed that I actually started thinking about going back to my old habits and surroundings. In fact, one afternoon I was right at the point of giving in, when I pulled into a gas station to fill up the tank. I couldn't help but notice that one of the attendants at the station was particularly cheerful, whistling and smiling as he filled up the cars. 'He's really got it together,' I thought to myself. When he came to my car, he noticed one of the Bible study aids on the seat and asked me about it. I told him that my cousin was a Witness and that I was reading the literature. In through the window came his arm to shake my hand as he introduced himself as a Witness from a local congregation.

That one conversation was just what I needed! I contacted my cousin and told him that I wanted to study again. In a real act of Christian kindness he and his family invited me to live with them while I studied. Finally, on November?21, 1970, I was baptized in symbol of my dedication to serve Jehovah God. One year later, in November, I began serving as a regular pioneer (full-time evangelizer). In May of 1972 I accepted an invitation to serve at the Watchtower Society's headquarters. For some four years I enjoyed the privilege of working at the Society's farm in upstate New York.