Rich in God's Love

Though he turned his back on his Christian upbringing, God did not forget him.

By Al Golston

The years of the Great Depression were hard for everyone, and my family was no exception. My father couldn’t make enough money to support our family, so all the children had to take their turns working in the fields. I was born during those years, and as soon as I was old enough, I joined my brothers and sisters in picking everything from cotton to corn to potatoes, and it seemed to me as though there was no end to those rows. Yes, times were hard, but though we were poor in money, we were rich in God’s love—my parents were Christians.

Raised in a godly home

My mother and father loved God and wanted their children to know Him too. They taught us about God’s love and how to pray. At prayer time, we children would be on our knees, and my mother would crawl from child to child, lay her hands on each of us and pray for us. She would tell the Lord, “I want my children to be with me in the Kingdom.” We were taught the Word of God. I remember that, as we worked out in the middle of those fields, my mother would quote a Bible verse such as, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” We knew that meant it was time for us to take turns saying Bible verses, and everybody had to say a different verse. Since there were eleven children in my family, we learned and quoted lots of verses. I am so glad I was raised in that home.

I am glad I was taught to pray and love God’s Word. When I was thirteen years old, I gave my life to the Lord. He saved me, He sanctified me, and He baptized me with the Holy Ghost. God helped me live a Christian life all through high school.

After I graduated, I went off to college. That was my first experience of being away from home. During that time, I allowed things of the world to attach themselves to my life. At first, it wasn’t the things I did but the things I didn’t do that caused me to backslide. It began with my being slack about praying and reading God’s Word. Little by little, I began going down the road of sin. I started smoking cigarettes and drinking beer; they seemed so controllable. Inside, I knew it was wrong—I had never seen my mother or father do any of the things I was doing—but everyone else was doing them, and they looked like they were having a good time. It wasn’t long before these habits, which I had thought I could control, took over my life, and other sins were added to the list. Oh, how sly the devil is when he sends temptation your way. Sin will take you down. Sin will destroy you.

Drug usage began

There was a military draft during those years, and I was drafted into the service. However, they did allow me to finish my schooling before I did my tour of duty. It was during my time in the service that I started doing drugs. When I was released from the service, I decided to live in New York. I didn’t want to live in a small town. I didn’t want to go back to the fields to work. I wanted to make lots of money.

I was married, and my wife and I had three children. I had a good job, a nice car, a new home in Long Island, but I had no peace. I had thought that living in the big city would lessen the influence that God’s people would have on my life, but God’s people live in big cities too. My wife was a Christian. She played the music in the church in Brooklyn, and she prayed for me.

During one of the times that I went home to visit my family, my mother said to me, “Son, I want to talk to you about your soul, but I don’t want you to get mad.” I told her, “Mom, I’m already mad, so don’t talk to me now.” But I knew that wouldn’t stop my mother from praying for me.

Conviction seized his heart

I returned to New York, but God was hearing those prayers. As I walked down the streets of that city, conviction seized my heart. Tears began to roll down my face, and I took a handkerchief and tried to pretend there was something wrong with my eyes. I didn’t want the people passing by to know that God was speaking to my heart. I wanted to be free from the sin I was in. I wanted to stop doing the things I knew were wrong, but I couldn’t stop.

One Sunday morning, after being away all night, I came home, and my wife said, “Al, you promised that you were going to church with me. You promised that you were going to sit with the children and keep them quiet while I play the music. But you are just now getting home, so it looks like you are not going to church with me again.” I told her, “If you will let me sleep for just a little while, I will go to church with you.” She woke me after a couple of hours, I got myself ready, and we went to church together.

When we arrived, there was only a small group of people. The minister had taken most of the congregation down to Washington, D.C. for a fellowship service. A few had stayed behind, just to keep the church doors open for that Sunday meeting. I was the only man in the church that morning.

God answered my prayer

I don’t remember what the sister preached about, but God was speaking to me, telling me my life was wrong. At the conclusion of the message, I remember that my wife chose to play the song, “Come Unto Me.” The first verse says, “Hear the blessed Savior calling the oppressed, ‘O ye heavy laden, come to Me and rest; Come, no longer tarry, I your load will bear, Bring Me every burden, bring Me every care.’” My heart was so heavy. I got up from where I was sitting, told my little boy and two daughters, “You all sit right here. Dad is going to pray.”

There were no pews and no carpet on the floor, but when I knelt and prayed at a little bench in that store-front church on Stuyvesant Avenue, God heard my prayer. I said, “Lord, I am sick of myself; I don’t like myself anymore. If You can do anything with me; if You can fix my life so I don’t want the world anymore, I want You to save me now.” I stayed on my knees until I knew God had answered my prayer. Soon a little melody started playing in my heart, then a full orchestra broke out; I knew God had saved me. I was filled with joy!

The sisters who were praying with me told me, “You know, the Lord has more for you.” That same day, the Lord sanctified me, and as I started to stand up and testify to those around me, God came down and baptized me with the Holy Ghost! I thank God for what He did for me that day and for what He continues to do for me.

A healing touch

Life hasn’t always been sunny since that day. There have been some rainy days too, but I can say that God has always been my helper. A few years ago, I was so sick and in terrible pain from gallstones. The saints of our church in Brooklyn gathered around me and prayed for me. I could hear my daughter praying, “Lord, don’t let my daddy die. Don’t let my daddy die.” The doctor said my condition was so bad that, without an operation, I would be dead in six months, but God heard the prayers of those faithful people, and He healed me.

One day, after I moved to Mobile, Alabama, I received a call from my daughter in New York. She told me that my son, Steve, had been taken to the hospital emergency room. They had put him immediately in the intensive care unit. She said that if I wanted to see him alive, I had better return to New York right away. My son wasn’t saved.

The Lord directed my steps during that time of travel. The pastor of the Brooklyn church met me at the airport, and we went straight to the hospital. When we arrived, we anointed my son with oil and prayed for him. That night, God saved my son! Though the doctors gave him only three weeks to live, he lived for a year after that time. Praise God.

I could go on and on about the many miracles God has done in my life and in the lives of those I love. God has been more than good to me. I love Him and want to serve Him for the rest of my life. It is an honor and a privilege to be used of God. No matter what I go through in this life, I thank God for this old-time religion. It works.