Thank you, my friends, for listening to my snippets, season 1, "A Mountain Within." It is a true story based on the characters and events of the Lore family. I wrote the story's first draft in 1976 when I was 23. I added the last entry in 2006, using the story for my personal life, staying in touch with the Lore family.

 

Being hired In 1975 as an East Coast Executive Sales Manager, I had the pleasure of hearing all the Lore stories from my trainer, Tom, who married into the Lore family. My territory was from Vermont to Florida. So, having a lot of driving time, Tom would happily keep me entertained by this family's challenging but beautiful story.

 

After two years of abuse to my body and mind, I had no other choice but to resign. Nobody understood how or why I would leave such a great opportunity, with lots of travel, tons of money, and all expenses paid for. When I explained the mental abuse, the alcohol addiction, the mistreatment of women, and the immoral pleasing of other men's desires, it disgusted me. Two years of being somebody I hated made me lose who I was or who I thought I was. When I got home, I was empty, feeling so lost. I thought about the Lore Sisters, their strength and dedication to each other, and how each sister was willing to conquer each other's trials and tribulations. This dedication gave me the strength to write the story. It took two years of writing and using my family and friends, as well as anybody who would take pity on me. And it worked until they got burnt out with the same old stories of 'Help Me.' I just wanted to get over my mountain to regain stability and get my life back in order. After all, I was a good person with a damaged heart.

 

I worked with my oldest brother and hid my fears in management. One day, a cousin of mine asked me to go to church with him. He was a new Christian and told me he would appreciate it if I would go with him. Of course, I said, "No. Church is the last thing I need in my life." I could see that he was disappointed with my answer. I apologized and told him that I would go.

 

That night, in 1980, we entered a large church occupied by young people. We sat close to the back of the church, far from the altar, where the Pastor was wearing Blue Jeans and a colored t-shirt, which we couldn't read from where we were sitting. The music was soft, powerful in words, and pulled at my heart.

 

The Pastor, Greg Laurie, started off loving each of us, welcoming us for coming to hear the Word. He started talking about how people put on masks, pretending everything, including themselves, was all good. The Pastor spoke about our hearts and how damaged and dark they are. It seemed to me that he was looking directly at me, listing all the hurt and loneliness, struggles that my heart was trying to survive. I looked at my cousin angrily, as if he had tricked me by talking to Greg before service and telling him to talk about my heart. I got up and left the service. There wasn't much sharing on the way home. I settled down and thought about how ridiculous it was to believe he had talked to the Pastor before the service, especially since I had never left his side.

 

I couldn't stop thinking about what the Pastor said at the service and how the message tormented my heart, allowing pride and fear to dominate me during the week. I asked my cousin if he wanted me to go to service with him the following Wednesday. He smiled and told me that would be great.

 

Once again, the church was filled with excited young people, but somehow, we were ushered pretty close to the front of the church. The music was beautiful, massaging my ears with delight. Pastor Greg stood up and once again started talking directly to me. This time, I listened and allowed suppressed tears to flow down my face. Greg asked everybody to close their eyes and raise their hand if they heard God speaking to them. I peeked and saw lots of hands up. So, I raised mine. Greg told everybody to get up and come down the aisle if they raised their hands. He told us that there would be people at the altar to pray with us. I don't know how or why, but I found myself in a line heading for the altar. A man prayed for me and asked me to pray and ask Jesus into my life. When I repeated a prayer, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.

 

Greg Laurie, The Pastor, handed me a paperback bible and said, "Welcome home, my Brother."