Christ on Campus: Of Testimonies, Healings, and a Holy Spirit Carwash

Being Lutheran felt like part of my genetic makeup, highlighted by the fact that I was related to at least three-quarters of the people in my church outside the small town of Ida, Michigan.

I loved it. Every church event was like a family reunion. Church was so integrated into my home and community life that I thought the IHS carved into the beautiful altar stood for Ida High School until I started confirmation. Sunday School teachers were cousins, distant cousins, or descendants of someone who married my dad’s cousin a generation or two before. Even four years of confirmation on Saturday mornings wasn’t so bad because I got to be with family. I felt at ease at church. I knew Jesus Christ was my Savior from sin and death. I loved my Lutheran church, but . . .

I was curious about kids at school who seemed dramatically Christian. During my senior year, a kid talked about a night at his church where people gave testimonies. He explained that’s when people described how they were saved.

“What’s your testimony?” he asked.

I frantically tried to remember a time when I didn’t know I was a Christian. Going all the way back to my preschool Sunday School memories with nothing coming up, I blurted, “I was baptized a week after I was born.”

“That doesn’t count!” he said rather indignantly

Feeling embarrassed, I said, “I’m sorry I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t saved. Your story is really exciting though.”

He went on to tell how some people were healed while praying at his church. Suddenly, I felt I was missing out on something. No one at my church ever walked in sick and came out healed. No one told exciting stories about how they found Jesus. Everyone just kind of knew Jesus in my church. How boring!

So began my descent into doubting if being Lutheran was all it was cracked up to be. This thought went against every molecule in my body. Even so, I accepted invitations to attend my friend’s church on Sunday nights, while going to my Lutheran church on Sunday morning. I saw things like a Holy Spirit Car Wash where people walked through a gauntlet of outstretched arms and hands. By the end of the line, the washee was speaking in tongues, a sure sign that the Holy Spirit had entered into them. Despite intense curiosity, I declined going through the Wash. Confirmed Lutherans didn’t do Holy Spirit Car Washes.

Throughout my college years, most of my friends were not Lutherans but evangelicals. During this time, I still identified with being Lutheran, mainly because if I didn’t, my body would surely disintegrate. I graduated from an evangelical Christian college and ended up joining the staff of Youth for Christ as the token Lutheran. I met some wonderful people during this period and admire the dedication of these friends in bringing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the unchurched. I credit them for influencing me in many positive ways, but...

Something was gnawing within me during my first year with YFC. I felt good about what I was doing, but my mind kept going back to “I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him,” from Luther’s Small Catechism. That conflicted with the YFC practice of asking people to make a decision to accept Jesus. If they weren’t making a decision, what was going on inside those unchurched kids who suddenly believed?

Later that year, my new roommate turned out to be a Lutheran parochial school teacher. I hoped sharing an apartment with a Lutheran teacher might validate my Lutheranness. One evening, I happened to glance at his bookshelf and noticed a book I had never seen before called the Book of Concord. My roommate was amazed that I was brought up Lutheran and had never read anything besides the Small Catechism. I began reading the strong and clear statement of faith in the Augsburg Confession. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever read. Totally impressed, I poured over the rest of its contents. I felt like I had returned home from a long, long journey.

As I read, all the superfluous stuff that I thought was important peeled away until I was left with God’s Word and Sacraments. I realized that the Holy Spirit called, enlightened, and sanctified those previously unchurched kids through the Gospel. It wasn’t my doing. It wasn’t their doing. From that time on, I never referred to a decision for Christ again.

Who knows why it took so long to encounter the Book of Concord. My pastor was a faithful undershepherd. I’m sure he quoted it, but I never held one in my hands until I pulled it off my roommate’s shelf. Like many kids, I wrestled with the distractions of adolescence and thought, “I’m never going to be a pastor, so I don’t have to read the deeper stuff.” That caught up with me once I let my feelings dictate what the Christian faith required, and I became confused. But returning to the teaching of my youth, I realized that sick people did indeed enter my church and come out healed. Their sins had been forgiven in Christ. Hundreds gathered together on Sunday morning and gave their testimony. It was the Nicene Creed. I didn’t need a Holy Spirit Car Wash to receive proof of having it. I am baptized in Christ, washed in the water joined with His Word, with the Holy Spirit constantly at work in me. Happily, my roommate and I are now pastors. It’s amazing what clearly presented theology can do to people! But don’t worry. Reading the Book of Concord won’t cause angels to instantly appear with a clergy collar for you. Go ahead. Read it! Just be ready for something much better than a Holy Spirit Car Wash!

Rev. Richard Woelmer is campus pastor of University Lutheran Church at Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana.