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MY JOURNEY HOME
By David W. Richardson CSP

Synopsis of My Journey Home

Early memories of church

Accepted Christ-became a Christian in 1996

Coaching pastors in sermon presentation 1997- 2007

Adjunct faculty instructor Phoenix Seminary 2002-2007

Miracle at Medjugorje 2007

Completing RCIA and confirmation in the Catholic Church

I grew up in a Christian home where my parents went to church occasionally. I feel certain that I was baptized, but have no certification of such. God was not taught in my home, and we didn't pray together as a family. I said a basic prayer (Now I lay me down to sleep…..) every night before I went to bed. Christmas was always about Santa Claus sliding down the chimney and leaving gifts beneath the Christmas tree. As a young boy of five, during the Christmas season, I would continually look up the chimney wondering how someone so big to fit through an opening so small.

I have two early recollections of attending church which stand out in my mind. Watching the collection plate as it was being passed among the attendees at the Presbyterian Church, as a boy of six I logically assumed that the people were taking money from it rather than making a deposit. As my mother handed me the plate, I gazed longingly on the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters now in front of me. I immediately reached in and took out a quarter. Whispering no! no! no! my mother grabbed my arm and motioned for me to put it back. Thinking that I had been too greedy, I immediately put back the quarter and took out a nickel. My mother was horrified, and my father thought the whole situation was very amusing.

My second memory came shortly after I had joined the church and was receiving my first communion. I carefully took one of the small communion cups of grape juice, a symbol of the blood of Christ, from the tray and drank it. Noticing a small residue in the bottom of the cup, I inserted my tongue to completely extract what was left. What was extracted however was a small volume of air, causing the cup to become stuck to my tongue. Sitting next to me my mother was "mortified" as she later told me…my father could hardly contain himself with laughter.

As I entered the fourth grade in the mid-1950s, a group of us were invited to consider joining the local Presbyterian Church in Franklin PA, a community of 10,000. What made the experience so unique was that the minister said, "How can you consider joining the Presbyterian Church when you have not had a chance to experience all other faiths?" He then proceeded to take us to the local Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran, Church of Christ, Catholic churches, and the Jewish synagogue. It was an interesting experience, but as a young dyslexic, ADD boy, I had difficulty properly focusing on the real depth and meaning of each faith. I do recall that the Catholic Mass was totally confusing and very difficult to understand.

It was a good experience, and all of us ended up joining the Presbyterian Church. I suspect that what we all really liked the best however, was the season between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day when the minister set up and operated over 50 electric trains, Lionel, American Flyer, etc. in the large community room in the basement of the church.

I graduated from high school, got married, went into the US Army as an officer during the Vietnam War, and had two beautiful daughters, both of whom were baptized. After spending 15 years in the corporate world working my way up to Vice President of sales with divisions of two Fortune 500 companies, I quit and began a career as a professional speaker. My business was launched by winning 2nd place out of 20,000 participants in the World Championship of Public Speaking. I've gone on to speak in every state in the USA and every English-speaking country in the world, as well as several where my message was translated. And I did all of this "all by myself" without any help from God at all...or so I thought at that time.

My 24 year marriage fell apart, I moved to Arizona, and married a lifelong Catholic in 1988. Simone started from day one working on me, persuading me and strongly encouraging me to join her in the Catholic faith. I recall telling her several times "There is really nothing I would rather do less!"

When I wasn't playing golf on Sunday, she took me to several of the Catholic churches in the Phoenix area. She would always tell me in great detail what was going to happen during the Mass, and would then speak at length about what we had just experienced after the Mass. I usually found the homily to be very interesting, but had difficulty grasping the value of the Mass itself and was generally bored. I really began looking forward to playing golf on both Saturday and Sunday.

In 1996 however, everything in my life began to change. It all started when I attended a rally along with 26,000 other people at the Phoenix Convention Center. Some of the speakers included Margaret Thatcher, Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf, former Pres. George H.W. Bush, and one of my all time favorite sales trainers, Zig Ziglar, a very devout Christian who wears his faith boldly on his sleeve. At the conclusion of the meeting Zig offered everyone a free cassette tape, encouraging all of us to listen to it at "your very earliest convenience.”

Driving home one cool March evening, I was listening to Zig on his cassette tape as he shared his testimony about how he came to Jesus Christ. At one point he mentioned that while sitting in his backyard during the late evening hours, he saw a shooting star blaze across the sky. He turned to his son who was beside him and said, "That shooting star was a message from God"
When I got home I got out of my car and looked up in the sky anxiously waiting to see a shooting star. I saw nothing, and besides I was getting cold standing there in the freezing night air. And after all why would I ever expect God to send me a message through a shooting star. My only connection with God was through the occasional use of profanity connected to His name.

Three days later I received a telephone call inviting me to join a group of people for a meeting at a local hotel in Phoenix. Now I don't go to these meetings at hotels where they are usually trying to sell you something, and neither does my wife. Persistently persuaded by one of my friends however, both Simone and I accompanied him and his wife to this meeting.

There I witnessed three people recount the most magnificent life-changing stories I have ever heard. They shared the story of their life, what it was in the past, and what it is now that they have accepted Jesus Christ into their life. And as one man said, "He is in my heart now and for all eternity." WOW!!

I was so filled with complete joy that I had tears forming in my eyes. (I think the last time I had tears in my eyes was when I got beat up on the playground as a kid). With tears now running down my cheeks I joined in prayer with everyone inviting Christ into my life. At that moment a feeling of total calm, peace, and grace washed over my entire body. It was a feeling unlike any I had ever experienced before in my entire life.

As Simone and I walked hand-in-hand from the hotel, I looked up to suddenly see a huge shooting star blaze across the sky. I instantly knew that this was my message from God. Simone squeezed my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, "Your life is now His, and I am with you all the way.” On March 12th 1996 I became a Christian, and my life was about to be changed forever. In my wildest dreams I could never begin to imagine what was going to happen next.

Ever persistent, Simone now suggested again that I might want to consider becoming a Catholic. I told her that I was just a baby in Christ, and really need to focus upon being a good Christian at this time. With a wry smile on her face she looked me squarely in the eye and said, "I can wait and so can God.”

By accepting Jesus Christ as my Savior, I had been born- again. Since I had no certification or proof of baptism as a baby, I prepared to be baptized six months later at Scottsdale Bible Church on Sunday, September 15, 1996. I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit (John 3:5).

On April 1st I began attending a Bible study class that met twice a week and was scheduled to continue through July. But little did I know that on the evening of the last class, I would experience what others have claimed could only be a miracle from God.

Departing from the meeting leader's home on the night of July 18, one of the other class members and I got into my car and prepared to leave. It was a typical Arizona July evening with constant flashes of lightning illuminating the sky, but no rain. On this hot humid night, I did something I've only done a handful of times in the five years I've owned the vehicle: I opened the sunroof. Three minutes later as we slowly rolled to a stop, Deborah screamed, "I'm getting wet, I'm getting soaked!" We both had just been drenched with water over our head and shoulders. It was amazing. There was no water on the street, no water on the windshield of the car, no water on the steering wheel, and no water on the console between us. No water anywhere else but on our heads and shoulders.

We don't know what happened that evening or why. No one could explain it except to just say that it must have been a miracle from God. While we went forward to be baptized in the church on Sunday September 15th, we affectionately claim that on the evening of July 18th we were baptized by Jesus Christ himself.

During these early days of my new found life as a Christian, I was surprised by the response from my friends and colleagues. Those from out of town prayed with me over the telephone. One man discipled me in his home, one on one every other week for a year to help me in my new found walk with the Lord. I attended weekend retreats and even went up and down the street and knocking on doors, witnessing the love of Christ and Christianity to anyone who would listen. My entry into the world of Christ was carefully guided by seven men, whom I today fondly refer to as the Magnificent Seven. I was completely overwhelmed by the unselfish generosity of so many people to help this new born again Christian stay on track for all of Christ's blessings.

As my faith grew however, so did my negative feelings toward the Catholic Church. It was as though there were "Christians" and then there were "Catholics.” Catholics worshiped the Saints, they worshiped Mary, and even in some cases worshiped the priest! When we Christians saw people making the sign of the cross, we seemed to look down on them. Catholics were very different, and I was glad to be a Christian. Since my views were apparently all well supported by my Christian friends and mentors, I knew I was in the right place at the right time. To a large degree, fundamentally, I became anti-Catholic.

My prayer to God at this time was simple: "How can I best serve you?" His almost immediate response was to "go forth and work with my pastors.” Taking my skills as a speech coach, and with the generous help of the senior pastor of a large Scottsdale church, I was introduced to numerous pastors with whom I worked and coached for the next ten years. Through the use of videotape and one-on-one coaching, my objective was to help pastors design and deliver a sermon which effectively reached out to everyone in the congregation. Not only those who were members of the church, but also those who perhaps had just walked into the nearest available church looking for "something.” Maybe they had just lost their job, been divorced, just had their third DUI etc. and were today, visiting this church seeking a better life.

Later, either on that day or sometime during the week, I would sit with the pastor in his office reviewing the videotape. I occasionally found myself making suggestions in regard to speaking techniques about which I had absolutely no knowledge before that very moment. The fact that I was able to discuss these techniques in such a clear and confident manner was definitely the work of the Holy Spirit, not only in my life, but that of the pastor as well. Up to this point, I had never done anything in my life that was as humbling and rewarding as this ministry. What a great way to serve The Lord!

Other than a few Presbyterians or Methodists, the majority of these pastors represented non-denominational churches, who typically celebrated Holy Communion once a month. This was accomplished by passing among the congregation, trays with small pieces of bread and cups of grape juice representing symbols of the body and blood of Christ, much like my early boyhood days in the church. I noticed that many of the pastors seemed to rush through this solemn ceremony in order to get to their sermon, thereby ensuring the conclusion of the service on time.
Curiously I asked one of the pastors, following a coaching session, why the church didn't simply select one Sunday each month and dedicate that to Holy Communion. His answer: "If we did that, no one would come to the service that day.”

In early 2001 I was offered a position as an adjunct professor and instructor at the Phoenix Seminary. My challenge was to teach presentation and communication skills, as well as the design and delivery of an effective sermon to those preparing to serve God as pastors from the pulpit. This continually encouraged me to become more familiar with the Bible, and the critical role that these men of God play in bringing believers and nonbelievers closer to Christ.

During this time I made a decision to join a non-denominational Church in North Scottsdale, mainly because I liked the pastor and the church was located not far from my home. The process was simple, drop a preprinted card into the collection plate, attend a three-hour introductory session, and be interviewed by an elder in the church. No problem. During the course of one year I dropped a total of six cards into the collection plate and never received a call from anyone. After one of the services, I mentioned this to the pastor, who said he would personally see that this was resolved immediately. I never heard from anyone. Several months later, I mentioned this to him again, whereupon I got a call the next day inviting me to a preparatory three-hour class.

My calendar was such that I could not attend the class on that date, and the scheduler said that she would call me when the next class was due to be conducted. I never heard from her. Once again I cornered the pastor and this time I said, "I don't think God wants me to be in this church.” He assured me that this was not the case and that God definitely wanted me in the church and so did he. The next day I got a call, I attended a three-hour class, and now all that remained was an interview with an elder. I was told I would receive a telephone the next day call to set up this meeting. I never received a call.

Three years had now passed since I dropped the first card in the collection plate. Once again I asked the pastor, who is a wonderful man of God and also a good personal friend, when I could expect the interview to be scheduled. The next day I received a call from an associate pastor inviting me to meet him for lunch. We agreed to meet at Flos Chinese restaurant. I arrived at the agreed-upon time, 12 noon, and he wasn't there. At 12:15 I called his cell phone to see if he'd been delayed. Apparently he was on time at 12 noon, but at a different Flos restaurant. We finally met, and I joined the church….but it just wasn't the same anymore.

Nothing seemed to be the same anymore. Once again I began attending the Catholic Mass, but now for some reason, it appeared to be much different than I had remembered it. I was drawn to the Sacrament of The Eucharist, the true body and blood of Christ and the glorious way in which it was presented and shared. I began to subconsciously dream of the day I might be able to participate in this holy rite of the church. I was starting to realize that there is something very real, something extraordinary about this faith. God was calling me, and maybe for the first time I was hearing Him with all of my heart and soul. I knew my journey was about to shift into high gear.
I decided to put a toe in the water and investigate the inquiry process for RCIA. Simone and I visited several churches in the Phoenix - Scottsdale area before discovering St. Patrick's. We entered the church to the music of "Gloria.” As tears streamed down my cheeks, I turned to Simone squeezed her hand and said, "We are home now."

Several months earlier Simone had said that she would like to take me on a pilgrimage to Rome, Assisi, and Medjugorje. Three days in Rome sounded great, The Coliseum, The Pantheon, and the Vatican. Two days in Assisi…well I had heard about St. Francis and was convinced that I could find something to do for just two days in Assisi. But what was I going to do for eight long days in Medjugorje? Preparing to make the most of those lost and wasted eight days of my life, I stocked up on a bunch of CDs and books to carry me through.

But it was in Medjugorje where my life was to be totally and completely changed forever. Climbing the hill to see the statue of Mary, attending the exhilarating English speaking Masses said by priests from all over the world, as well as a daily Mass said by Fr. Jack Spalding, the priest who led the pilgrimage were all so powerful. Tears continually streamed down my cheeks, as I intently listened to the word of God which seemed to be coming from all around me. Not only was I beginning to experience a remarkable spiritual renewal, but many physical changes as well. I simply couldn't contain the tears of absolute delight. Just when I thought I had consumed a lifetime of joy and an abiding closeness to God, it was about to get even better.

During a Mass one afternoon with Fr. Jack, he suggested that each of us seek out a rock, a bench, or soft spot under a tree, and sit quietly by ourselves looking inwardly and focusing on God. I found a rock, sat quietly by myself, struggling to let my mind completely shut down and allow me to become totally focused upon God. Within 10 minutes I heard God clearly and distinctly say to me, "You're not doing what I want you to.”

I couldn't move. I was in total shock… God had actually spoken to me… in clear English…to me! For the next half hour I continued to sit there completely and totally focused upon the moment. Returning to the room I told Simone what had happened, and asked her what I should do next. She suggested that I talk to Fr. Jack the next day. I found myself facing a long sleepless night, continually looking at the clock on the nightstand that ticked the hours and minutes by sooo slowly.

The next day (Thursday) I approached Fr. Jack and shared with him my miraculous experience. He suggested that I continue to sit quietly by myself and repeat these words "thank you… "I heard you…” "I'm listening.” God has yet to speak with me again in that particular way, but through others, He has begun to vividly reveal his plans for me.

That evening the deacon who accompanied us on the pilgrimage, approached me saying that Fr. Jack would like me to deliver a response reading during the English Mass the next day (Fr. Jack was the priest chosen from America to say the Mass on Friday). I asked, "Why me?" He responded by saying, and I will never forget, "because Fr. Jack wants you to.” I was stunned. From our group of over 50 pilgrims, many of whom he had known for over 40 years, he selected me. And I was not even a member of the Catholic faith!

My journey was about to take me to one of the most challenging and memorable moments of my life. I've addressed large audiences worldwide, but on this day I would look out over and speak to an audience of over 1000 English-speaking Catholic parishioners. I thanked God for this opportunity, and asked Him to be with me as I spoke each and every word. I was truly humbled by this wonderful blessing.

We returned from the pilgrimage and I immediately continued my journey in the RCIA program. As one who had already invited Christ into my life, I had several questions about the Catholic faith, and more than just a few myths to dispel. I was somewhat apprehensive that the RCIA program might be about statues, praying to saints, etc. I had no idea that the entire focus was on the Bible and how to live a Christ like life. As each one of my questions was answered, discussed and prayerfully pondered, I found myself moving closer to God than I had ever been before.

One of the highlights of the RCIA program was a one day (long day) retreat. While each segment of the retreat was so powerful, the one that really stands out for me, focused upon the act of forgiveness. If you forgive others and their transgressions, your heavenly father will also forgive you (Mt 6:14).

Simone and I had contracted a builder to design and build our dream home. He ended up embezzling all of our initial payments, ultimately delivering nothing. My anger led to lawsuit against him, which we also lost. I harbored this anger for many years, but on this evening of the retreat, I wrote my note of forgiveness, read it aloud to everyone, and then threw it in a huge bonfire to be gone forever. Once I let it go I was completely at peace and this issue was now behind me in the past.

Of all the significant events in my life, and there have been many, RCIA was the most inspiring, rewarding, and certainly influential ever. My life once again has been changed for all eternity. It just keeps getting better and better!

On March 22, 2008 I was confirmed into Catholic faith and participated in my First Communion. In a darkened church on the night of the Easter vigil I could see Simone's smiling face shining beyond everyone else’s.

God has worked long hard hours and many many years presenting magnificent signs, signals, and even miracles in attempt to get the attention of this dyslexic, ADD young boy, now a man who through His grace has overcome these two challenges. His unrelenting persistence has changed my life, and opened a whole new world for study and continued growth in Christ, now as a member of the Roman Catholic Church.

My life has always been about me and my success. Now my life is about my personal relationship with Jesus Christ, the Catholic Church, and whatever small role I might be able to play in helping others to love this faith as much as I do.

My mother always taught me to "be tough, don't cry, take charge of your own life.” Sadly I never shed a tear at her funeral 35 years ago. I'm not so tough at all, and I am no longer in charge of my own life. Now it seems like I always have tears in my eyes particularly during Holy Communion and during the saying of the Our Father. They are however, tears of delight and happiness in my new "home" with The Lord.

My prayer is the same one that I said in 1996: "Lord, how can I best serve you?" Perhaps His answer is close to one which seems to be continually repeated to me by friends, deacons, and members of the Catholic faith: "You need to get your story out; there are many Catholics today who do not appreciate the fullness of their faith as much as you do. Some are just taking it for granted. Catholics and non-Catholics alike need to hear about your journey, particularly in today's very challenging economy which is poised to negatively impact them and the church as well."
The Lord has blessed me with excellent communication and speaking skills. He has blessed me with a remarkable journey which I dearly enjoy sharing with others. My prayer is that He will not only show me how I can best serve Him, but also give me the wisdom to know that He is really calling me.

On September 12, 2008 my beautiful Simone, at the age of 57, suddenly passed away to be with The Lord. My grief has been overwhelming, but my faith and my unrelenting love for God give me the strength and encouragement to continue on. My good friends in the Catholic community have suggested that, "perhaps she has taken you on your journey as far as she can. It is now up to you and the Holy Spirit to bring this journey home to others."