My Salvation

The sun cast its golden hue over the Rose Bowl on that fateful Sunday afternoon of November 22, 2004. At eighty-five, Reverend Billy Graham was about to hold his final Crusade in Los Angeles. This is the last of his four days of Crusade in Los Angeles. The whispers of this being his last LA crusade were in the air, a sense of finality that beckoned everyone to witness a piece of history. This is also the most important day of my life. (2)

My nephew Patrick approached me a few weeks before the event. “Uncle Nick, have you heard of Billy Graham?” His question made me smile. “You mean that silver-haired old guy who talked to Presidents like Kennedy and Nixon on TV? Yes, of course, he is a famous preacher,” I replied. “He will be hosting his last Crusade at the Rose Bowl, and it will be his last because he is getting pretty old,” Patrick said. When he mentioned the event at the Rose Bowl, it got my attention. “How much do they charge?” I asked. “It is free,” Patrick replied.  The thought of attending an event at the iconic stadium without the usual price tag was irresistible. “Free of charge? You pay a premium for a UCLA football game there and a ton of money to watch USC play in the Rose Bowl game on New Year’s Day!” I exclaimed. Patrick said his sisters Fiona and Flora would be attending, and he would bring other friends. He said my sister Cynthia was helping with the event. Knowing that my relatives were going and my sister Cynthia was working the event, I wanted to go. I told my wife Wende of the event, and she was excited about it, and we decided to invite my sister Winnie, her husband Johnny, and our pals Bob and Lisa. (2)

Stepping into the iconic Rose Bowl, I was struck by the ambiance. Even though only about half of the stadium’s seats were filled, the football field was bustling with people and energy. A stage, prominently placed at the end zone, was alive with a band’s melodies wafting through the air. Luck was on our side as we landed seats around the 45-yard line, a vantage point about 75 rows up — prime real estate for any USC or UCLA game. Those seats would burn a hole in your pocket during those games, sometimes even skyrocketing to a grand for the Rose Bowl game. As I settled into the rhythm of the evening, a series of speakers took the stage. Among them was Michael Reagan, the very son of President Reagan, who delved deep into his Christian faith. Hearing from the son of a president I greatly admired? It was awe-inspiring, to say the least. But the climax of the evening was when Billy Graham took the stage. Dressed in an austere black suit, there was a gravity about him. He looked solemn. His speech, though deliberate and slow, was captivating. I remember he said, “This could be the only time in your life that you are officially invited to accept Jesus Christ as your Savior so you can be saved. If you are saved, you do not have to go to hell after you die, but you can go to heaven instead and spend eternity with God there in happiness. And you know what? This is free of charge as this is a free gift from God.” As a seasoned businessman, I do not believe in “free lunch,” as every “free lunch” has a cost. It just comes late on, and it usually costs way more than the free lunch. Nothing is free. Every time someone offers me a “free lunch,” I am suspicious. (2)

However, two conversations unsettled me deeply in the last several months. The first was a conversation with my daughter Madeline. Our family was scheduled to take a cruise to Western Europe the following day. I was busy packing and ensuring everything was in order, including our passports, cruise tickets, clothes, etc. I felt good that I could afford to take the entire family on a cruise to Europe as it is expensive and not every family can afford that. We will be going to cities like Paris, Monaco, Barcelona, Venice, and Rome. It was awesome, and we were all looking forward to it. Then suddenly, my oldest daughter Madeline approached me, her eyes glistening with tears. I thought, “Oh no, something bad happened?” I asked her what had happened and why she was in tears. She said, “Dad, we are all going to cruise tomorrow. But what if we had a “Titanic” moment on our cruise, like in the recent movie Titanic? And we all died. If that happened, Mom, Christine (sister), Brian (brother), and I will be going to heaven, but you cannot come with us.” I asked, “Why couldn’t I go with you guys? You know Daddy is a good man as I don’t do bad things, and I helped people.” She answered, “But you are not saved, you are not a Christian, and you cannot go to heaven after you die.” I felt strange, a little bothered that suddenly my daughter told me something like this. I said, “Don’t worry about any Titanic moment. Nowadays, we have radar, and we will know where the icebergs are and will not run into them. Don’t worry about that, as everything will be fine. You should pack and get ready for tomorrow.” This conversation bothered me. (2)

Then another conversation happened after we were back from the cruise. I was taking ballroom dancing lessons with my professional instructor, Josie. My wife and I were devoted ballroom dancers and competed regularly in ballroom dancing competitions. We competed in some amateur competitions, but most of the time, we competed in Pro-Am competitions. My wife and I were amateur dancers and danced with a professional instructor in the Pro-Am competitions. Pro-Am competitions are very popular in the US. We competed in Pro-Am competitions all over the US, usually taking one out-of-town trip monthly to compete somewhere in the US. We took it seriously, and it cost us a lot. But we both enjoyed it and had a lot of fun doing it. (2)

One evening after I was back from the European cruise, I was taking lessons with Josie, my professional ballroom instructor. I noticed something was wrong with her; she was not focused and made some mistakes in her steps. Usually, I am the one who makes mistakes because I am the amateur, the student, and she being the professional instructor, will correct me. I asked her if something was bothering her. She said yes, as she had a nightmare last night. The nightmare was about me too, and she had talked to her husband, Jim, about this and decided that she should tell me about that. I asked curiously, “About me? You better tell me.” She said that in that terrible dream, God was displeased with her for not working hard enough to bring me to Him, and God was also angry about my repeated rejections of Him and His messages, and his wrath might be on me. The idea of a higher power being angry with me and may punish me was very worrisome. My daughter told me that if we all died in a Titanic moment, everyone in the family could go to heaven except me is not good. Now, knowing God is angry with me and might punish me is even worse.

I started wondering what was going on. All these seem strange. Why all this bad news? And it worried me. These conversations with Josie and Madeline made my heart very unsettled. So, when Billy Graham extended that invitation, it felt like it came at the right time. I saw it as a chance to evade hell after death and put me at ease. And if there’s anyone you’d trust with such weighty decisions, it’s someone of Billy Graham’s stature. So, amidst that sprawling crowd, I made a choice that would change my life forever.

Billy Graham’s voice echoed across the field, “To truly be saved, you can’t just stay seated. You must journey down to this field and declare your faith.” His words felt like a personal invitation, and I felt a surge of readiness to walk down with my wife and commit to Christ. But as I started to rise, a heavy weight of anxiety gripped me. Flashbacks of my recent prostate issue clouded my thoughts. I pictured myself in the center of that vast field, struck by a sudden need for the restroom. The daunting task of climbing back to my vaguely remembered section, navigating endless steps and tunnels, to find the restroom filled me with dread. Suddenly, the thought of not making it to the restroom in time, making a mess of myself, becoming the laughingstock of the Rose Bowl, and being humiliated in public held me back in my seat. Top of Form

As I hesitated, a more fearful thought came to my mind, intensifying my fears. I was transported back to a crowded day in Paris, on the buzzing Champs-Elysees. The streets were electric with anticipation for the grand finale of the Tour de France, with everyone eager to see Lance Armstrong race for yet another victory. I remember positioning myself near a subway exit, thinking it was a strategic spot. But as the subway doors slid open, a human tide poured out, all eager to glimpse who won the race’s final dash. Trapped just a few rows from the forefront, I felt the oppressive press of bodies from all sides. The space seemed to shrink, the air grew thin, and I became acutely aware of the peril of my situation. If I were to stumble and fall, the surging crowd wouldn’t notice a man down, and I’d be lost under a sea of trampling feet. I panicked and turned to my wife Wende, telling her I needed to leave immediately. As soon as I told her and before I knew it, she’d become my fierce protector, clearing a path by pushing and maneuvering through the dense French crowd left and right, with me right behind her, and we fought the way out. I was in awe of her unexpected strength.

As Billy Graham’s impassioned invitation echoed in the stadium, an old ghost of a memory crept into my thoughts, chilling my spine. The relentless crowd in Paris, the press of bodies, the real threat of being trampled… it all rushed back. Coupled with this was the dread of possibly needing to rush to a restroom and not making it in time. I became the laughingstock of the Rose Bowl. All this fear paralyzed me. There I was, surrounded by hope and inspiration, yet paralyzed by fear. A simple step forward to accept a life-changing truth seemed like the steepest cliff. The whole evening had been a joyful experience, with not a care in the world, but now, suddenly, fear overshadowed everything.

For the first time in my life, I found myself instinctively reaching out in silent prayer to God, “God, Jesus, if you truly want me, please help me overcome these fears,” I prayed in my heart. I was caught between the profound invitation from Billy Graham and the chains of my own anxieties. But as I finished my prayer, a wave of serenity washed over me. I felt peace, and the fears that had seemed impossible to overcome just moments ago disappeared. With newfound resolve, I grasped my friend Bob’s hand and took Johnny, my brother-in-law, by the other. Together, we made our way forward, my heart echoing with a single thought – “I accept Jesus Christ.” It was a victory, not just for me, but for faith over fear. Looking back, I know it was a spiritual battle that just took place, with Jesus fighting off Satan’s last-minute attempt to deter me. And in this battle, Jesus’s love, grace, and power triumphed.

I called my daughter Madeline, my ballroom instructor Josie, and Billy Graham the Three Messengers, sent by God to bring me to Him. How blessed am I to deserve this? Statistically speaking, the chance of a non-Christian like myself and a Buddhist, at 53 years old, getting converted to a Christian is less than five percent. I praise the Lord for His love and grace in saving me. What a wonderful gift it is from God Almighty. I thank my God for this wonderful salvation from the bottom of my heart.

As I look back at that fateful Rose Bowl event, my heart swells with awe and gratitude at the way God answered my prayer. It was a moment that changed everything—a moment when the heavens seemed to open, and God’s power became undeniably real to me.

For years, as a devoted Buddhist, I clung to the sacred scriptures my mother had so reverently entrusted to me. She was a Buddhist preacher, and her words echoed in my mind: “These scriptures are sacred. Do not share them with anyone. Recite them only in times of great need or danger, and the Buddhist god will come to your aid.” I obeyed. In moments of desperation, I whispered those ancient words, clinging to hope, waiting for a sign, a response, a miracle. But each time, silence was my only answer. The emptiness left a void in my soul—a quiet longing for something more.

Then came that pivotal day. For the first time in my life, I reached out to the God I had never truly known—the God of the Bible. My heart, heavy with fear and uncertainty, offered a simple prayer for help. It wasn’t eloquent or rehearsed; it was raw, desperate, and sincere. And in that moment, He answered.

I was stunned. The God I had never prayed to before—the One I wasn’t sure would even hear me—had responded. His intervention was undeniable, His presence unmistakable. In that single, life-altering moment, I realized that the God of the Bible was not distant or silent. He was living, active, and merciful.

The contrast could not have been clearer. Years of chanting sacred Buddhist scriptures had yielded nothing but silence. Yet, with one earnest cry to the God of heaven, I experienced His power and love. That day marked the beginning of a new journey, one that led me to the undeniable truth of who He is—a God who hears, who acts, and who saves.