Nothing, Believer, Knower – part 1

Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” John 20:29

I was born and baptized Catholic. My parents had me go to catechism classes through confirmation. To be honest, I never enjoyed having to go to more school every Saturday morning. I was confirmed with my friends, the only memory I really have of that event was the fear the Bishop would call upon me to answer one of his questions. My parents made sure we went to Mass every weekend. I cant remember a time that my dad, who worked in the steel mills of Pittsburgh wasn’t at Mass with us. But, that was the extent of faith at home. We didn’t pray, even grace at meals, or talk about God.
I left for the USAF at 20 years old and didn’t step into a church again for 6 years.

As I stepped out in my new freedom as an Air Force airman i. Okinawa, I slipped into a life of partying, drinking and nightly rounds of the local clubs. My life became one of hedonistic pleasures. I loved for myself and took what ‘joys’ life offered me. I had no God in my life, I worshiped fun and chased the life of pleasures. I would come home from work, change from my uniform and head to the clubs until 2-3 in the morning nearly every night. I bought what I desired and lacked of nothing. But, the more I sought the promises of hedonism, the more discontent I became. But that just made me double my efforts.

God tried to open my eyes and get into my life but I always slammed the door in His face. Friends would invite me to church on Sunday mornings but that would mean I’d have to go to bed early on a prime party night when all the girls were at the clubs. So, I would lie and tell them that I worshiped God in my heart and didn’t need to show it in some building.

Then came that night. My new pregnant wife was in the Philippines visiting her family so I was alone. A typhoon had hit Okinawa, the eye passing over the island on Thursday night. The deafening silence woke me at 3 AM. The next evening while doing dishes in the sink, I saw two cars pull up to the front of the house. Out of one stepped my unit’s First Sergeant and from the other a Lt. Colonel in fatigues. From his collar I saw the glint of a cross reflected in the parking lot lights. I opened the door, my 1st Sergeant said, “ Sgt. Corbett, I’m sorry, I have some bad news.” I knew right away and responded, “my dad died.” The chaplain was there at the request of my mother. He sat with me, quietly consoling my pain. I felt so bad for him in a way because I saw no need for him. What could he do? My hero and best friend was gone.

Following the typhoon, flights out were difficult to find but the Red Cross and my 1st Sergeant got my out Sunday morning. I flew around the world to land in Pittsburgh at about 2AM. My mother knew the funeral home director and had arranged for me to see my dad when I arrived. I walked into the room holding my dad’s casket just before 3 AM and alone with the greatest man I ever knew, I broke down. My crying ended pretty abruptly when I heard myself say, “but, I’ll see you again soon, dad.”

The unbelieving hedonist began to crumble that night and the following morning at the funeral….