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Then When?

"While every head is bowed, and every eye closed . . ."
I'd heard the Minister say these same words for five weeks now, every Sunday at the altar call. My head was bowed, my eyes closed, but I could hear weeping and 'halleluiahs' from the rail in front of the dais. People making a commitment to God.
I thought about the last six months of my life and found no commitments there. I had almost gotten a promotion at work, but I guess, to be fair, I hadn't worked as hard as I could have. My girlfriend of two years, Mary, got fed up with waiting for me to commit and gave me the 'aisle way or the highway' speech and I just couldn't do it. What was wrong with me? I made decisions everyday, what to wear, where to eat, it's not as if I couldn't make up my mind. It was just permanent decisions I avoided. I rented instead of bought, tried instead of purchased; it was as if, deep down, I wanted nothing permanent in my life. What if I made a bad decision? One I would have to live with the rest of my life? I just needed more time is all . . . more time to weigh the facts, figure the outcome.
"There is one more among us, one who, even now, feels the pull of God."
Well I guess so, there were over a hundred people in this room, one of them must fit that description. Was there one, or was the Minister making a 'shotgun' guess? Another person just passed me, I guess God was talking to him. Or her.
Why didn't God talk to me? Maybe if He would tell me which commitment I should make, I could make one. I started coming here because Mary brought me. I'm glad to see that she still comes, although now she sits with her family. I can't blame her, dropping a guy who didn't love her enough to take the next step. But I do, Mary, I do. Funny, I just used the words she longed to hear.
"Is there one more? Jesus is calling you, come and meet Him."
Commit my life to Jesus? How could I do that? I couldn't commit to anything, even a short-term contract, how could I commit to Jesus? What would He want of me?
"One more, I feel there is one more out there, someone afraid to make a commitment, perhaps.
Jesus wants only good for you, won't you come down and meet Him?"
Commitment? He's talking to me! Did Mary say something, why is he talking to me? Why am I trembling? I've never done anything bad, why should I feel guilt? Tears. Why am I crying? Should I go down there? I'm on my feet. Stop. Stop!
"Just a few more moments . . ."
Grab the pew, stop myself from going down there. Suddenly I'm free, I'm filing out, there's the door! A few more feet.
"It's good to see you, Mark."
I turn and there is Mary. She has a smile on her face and no animosity within her. I can feel it, and something else. She still loves me, even though I disappointed her. How can that be? I want to say something, anything to break the spell.
"I almost made a commitment in here today. Almost." I say, trying for humor.
"If not today, then when, Mark? When?"
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. My mind is awhirl with opportunities missed and I am suddenly aware of how empty my life is. I am hollow inside and I feel a tremendous urge to fill it with something, but what? Mary. I can see that she knows.
"Help me, Mary," I manage to say.
She takes my hand and leads me to the altar, and suddenly I know, too.

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