When it came time to
go to bed I felt that in order not to be misunderstood I must pray in
the presence of my roommate. He was a cynic and a nothingarian and I
felt sure that he would neither understand nor appreciate it. It was
hard to bring it about, as he kept on talking in a way that seemed to
give me no opportunity to turn the subject naturally. I was tempted to
let it pass, but felt that, if I did, it would be fatal to my new-formed
purpose. So finally, in almost an agony of awkwardness, I blurted out,
"Jim, I don't care what you think about it, I'm going to pray." Jim
proved to be entirely mild and agreeable about it, however, and gave me
his blessing in a patronizing sort of a way. The next day I burned my
bridges behind me by packing my trunk and going home.
Up to this time I was conscious of nothing unusual. What things had
taken place I had done myself and it had been entirely within my own
option and power to do or not to do them. I had received the testimony
of at least four witnesses of the fact of conversion and the reality of
the Christian life; I had relaxed the opposition of my will and given my
judgment a chance to act; I had taken advice from experience; I had
prayed; I had turned my face toward the Christian life; I had cut loose
from conditions unfriendly to Christian experience, and I was trying to
be a Christian.
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