One's Own Life, As This One Lives It, James de Luna

Learning to share was a lesson from birthday number three. All the presents were mine, and the other kids were playing with my new toys. Crying to an older person in my life I was explained to in detail about sharing.

Later on in Reno, once my stepsister's grandmother found out I had never been baptized, a catholic ceremony followed. I was six years old and mistakenly believed that I was the only begotten son of God and was in charge of carrying out the divine plan. We soon moved to Chinatown, San Francisco and my focus was turned toward learning martial arts, my divine imperative disillusioned.

Shortly after my eighth birthday I was off to my grandmother's house in the south. The Greek Orthodox church she attended was across the street from where she lived. The priest lived next door to the church as well. I made friends with the priest and was allowed inside the altar.

A few years later, I was baptized by a man who had been carrying a vial of water from the river Jordan for many years. Most baptisms for the Orthodox church occur when a person is still in infancy. Since I was older, the priest decided this was a special enough occasion and he poured the water from the river Jordan over me. I was standing in water up to my knees in a large chalice normally reserved for dunking infants. I was then able to receive the Orthodox communion.

I joined the US Navy after high school, and was assigned to a reconnaissance squadron in Hawaii. A man named Bill Zing was also part of my unit. Bill's nickname was Rev, because he was always preaching the Bible. We also called him thumper, as in Bible thumper. I never allowed Bill to believe he had brought me to salvation, yet I still remember his teaching.

After being freed from my military commitment, I traveled to the U.S.A. looking for something. Once, when I was all alone, I remembered Bill saying I needed to accept the love of Christ into my heart--so I did it. I really felt at peace, no longer struggling to resist the truth.

Growing up not knowing who my father was, I was glad to discover him when I was 28. Dad had found the local church shortly after I was born. Sadly my mother had concealed my existence from him, and his from me. After writing my dad a letter informing him of myself, he brought me to a meeting of the church in Anaheim. The members of the local church welcomed me with open arms.

I continued to live in Ojai, California and eventually graduated from Ventura College. My job was as a projection machinist in the Ojai cinema. The friends I knew there and the peaceful country life were wonderful, yet not enough to keep me from moving away at the chance of staying with my dad.

After moving to Trabuco Canyon and being shepherded by the believers in the church in Mission Viejo, Christ guided me to make it known to all that I was finished with this world. Christ became more real to me than ever before.

Presently, I am working full time in the musical instrument field and enjoying Christ.