Once in a while, perhaps once in a lifetime, something occurs that begins a dramatic shift in a person's world view. It's called an epiphany. The result is a long term change in how we relate to those around us, and if it is a spiritual awakening, it changes how we relate to God.
Here are accounts of three spiritual epiphanies:
C.S. Lewis (in a car on his way to the zoo)
In September, 1931, when Lewis was thirty three years old, he had a long discussion about Christianity with J.R.R. Tolkien (who was a devout Roman Catholic) and Hugo Dyson (a friend and committed Christian). That all-night conversation planted even more "seeds" in Lewis's heart. Lewis wrote in Surprised by Joy about what happened a week later as he headed out to a local zoo with his brother Warren: "When we set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did." Apparently sometime during that ride God touched Lewis's heart, and opened his eyes to Jesus' love and compassion. Was this his Damascus story -- conversion on the way to the zoo? Or was it a culmination of all the "seeds" that had been planted throughout Lewis's life? Only God and Lewis know for certain, but after his conversion, God certainly started to bless Lewis's life, including his writing.
Whittaker Chambers (in his kitchen)
I date my break with Communism to a very casual happening… My daughter was in her high chair. I was watching her eat. She was the most miraculous thing that had ever happened in my life. I liked to watch her even when she smeared porridge on her face or dropped it meditatively on the floor. My eye came to rest on the delicate convolutions of her ear – those intricate, perfect ears. The thought passed through my mind, ‘No, those ears were not created by chance coming together of atoms in nature (the Communist view). They could have been created only by immense design.’ The thought was involuntary and unwanted. I crowded it out of my mind. But I never wholly forgot it or the occasion. I had to crowd it out of my mind. If I had completed it, I should have had to say: Design supposes God. I did not then know that, at that moment, the finger of God was first laid on my forehead.
Charles Coleson (in his car)
I had the strange sensation that water was not only running down my cheeks but surging through my whole body as well, cleansing and cooling as it went. They weren’t tears of sadness and remorse, nor of joy—but somehow tears of relief.
And then I prayed my first real prayer. “God I don’t know how to find you, but I’m going to try! I’m not much the way I am now but somehow I want to give myself over to you.” I didn’t know how to say more so I repeated over and over the words “Take me.”
I had not “accepted” Christ—I still didn’t know who He was. My mind told me it was important to find that out first, to be sure that I knew what I was doing, that I meant it and would stay with it. Only that night something inside me was urging me to surrender—to what or to whom I did not know.
In September, 1931, when Lewis was thirty three years old, he had a long discussion about Christianity with J.R.R. Tolkien (who was a devout Roman Catholic) and Hugo Dyson (a friend and committed Christian). That all-night conversation planted even more "seeds" in Lewis's heart. Lewis wrote in Surprised by Joy about what happened a week later as he headed out to a local zoo with his brother Warren: "When we set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did." Apparently sometime during that ride God touched Lewis's heart, and opened his eyes to Jesus' love and compassion. Was this his Damascus story -- conversion on the way to the zoo? Or was it a culmination of all the "seeds" that had been planted throughout Lewis's life? Only God and Lewis know for certain, but after his conversion, God certainly started to bless Lewis's life, including his writing.
Whittaker Chambers (in his kitchen)
I date my break with Communism to a very casual happening… My daughter was in her high chair. I was watching her eat. She was the most miraculous thing that had ever happened in my life. I liked to watch her even when she smeared porridge on her face or dropped it meditatively on the floor. My eye came to rest on the delicate convolutions of her ear – those intricate, perfect ears. The thought passed through my mind, ‘No, those ears were not created by chance coming together of atoms in nature (the Communist view). They could have been created only by immense design.’ The thought was involuntary and unwanted. I crowded it out of my mind. But I never wholly forgot it or the occasion. I had to crowd it out of my mind. If I had completed it, I should have had to say: Design supposes God. I did not then know that, at that moment, the finger of God was first laid on my forehead.
Charles Coleson (in his car)
I had the strange sensation that water was not only running down my cheeks but surging through my whole body as well, cleansing and cooling as it went. They weren’t tears of sadness and remorse, nor of joy—but somehow tears of relief.
And then I prayed my first real prayer. “God I don’t know how to find you, but I’m going to try! I’m not much the way I am now but somehow I want to give myself over to you.” I didn’t know how to say more so I repeated over and over the words “Take me.”
I had not “accepted” Christ—I still didn’t know who He was. My mind told me it was important to find that out first, to be sure that I knew what I was doing, that I meant it and would stay with it. Only that night something inside me was urging me to surrender—to what or to whom I did not know.
I have often wondered, do people have spiritual epiphanies away from God? I don't think they are as prevalent. Have you had one, either toward or away from God?
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