My Testimony
Growing up Catholic, surviving the Navy, escaping a drug-running boss, and discovering that salvation doesn’t require a collar.
The Setup: A Good Catholic Boy
I grew up in what you might call a “committed Catholic family.”
My father converted to marry my mother, a second-generation Croatian immigrant who took her faith seriously. We checked every box: Catholic grade school, Catholic high school, confession, Mass, rosaries, rosaries and more rosaries, the works.
I even met my high school sweetheart there; we’re still madly in love 55 years later, so clearly something went right.
After high school, I joined the Navy. Not only out of patriotic fervor, mind you, but because they were actively drafting for all-expense-paid trips to the rice paddies of Vietnam. I figured if I was going to spend four years somewhere, I’d rather choose the location myself.
It turns out my draft number was in the 300s, so I would never have been called. But that’s knowledge after the fact, and hindsight doesn’t help when you’re 18 and Uncle Sam is bearing down on you.
The Rise: Education and Success
After my Navy tour, we moved back to Denver.
Some advanced placement tests allowed me to finish my bachelor’s degree “magna cum laude” in just 1.5 years. My GI Bill stretched far enough to cover a Master’s in Tax Law from the University of Denver. The best return on investment I never planned.
I became a CPA, would earn my CFP designation, and started my own CPA partnership after an interesting stint with one of the Big 8 firms—Touche Ross & Co. Life was good. I was successful. And naturally, I assumed my good deeds outweighed my bad deeds, which meant even heaven was practically guaranteed.
Plus, I had my membership in “the one true church” club as a backup plan. You know, just in case the good deeds math didn’t quite pan out.
The California Dream (That Became a Nightmare)
In 1980, I sold my CPA partnership interest and moved my family to California.
Southern California was a beautiful place back then. I transitioned as CFO for one of my main clients, who turned out to be a Godfather wannabe. And, I don’t mean he just liked Italian food and greased his hair back. The guy actually threatened my life if I ever quit working for him.
To which I promptly quit.
(The pastor later thought this was hilarious. I didn’t at the time, but I eventually understood who was really in charge of my life and death. Spoiler: it wasn’t Tony Soprano Jr.)
Shortly after I quit, the FBI contacted me to ask questions about him. Turns out he had a small plane and was flying drugs from Mexico into California. Last I heard, he was serving time in a federal penitentiary in Texas. Thank God I got out of there.
My judgment of employers? Impeccable (after that point).
The Spiritual Crisis: When Catholicism Wasn’t Enough
Sharon and I were searching for our spiritual purpose in life.
I thought I’d give Catholicism another shot. Seemed reasonable. I’d been away for a while, but surely they’d welcome back a prodigal son with open arms.
So I went to confession: “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been six years since my last confession...”
Those were the last words I ever uttered in that church.
For ten solid minutes, he tore into me with an intensity my Navy drill instructor never achieved. Were it not for the fact that I soon became a believer in Christ, I would still be working off my penance.
So much for giving Catholicism another shot…
Note to self: apparently, a six-year absence warrants more than a few Hail Marys.
The Setup: The Amway Ambush
Shortly after moving to California, Sharon started attending some free evening classes and befriended a really “nice” lady.
Next thing I knew, the nice lady and her husband wanted to come over to our home and “talk to us.”
Absolutely not!
I don’t need any more soap, as I was sure they were Amway sales reps.
Sharon kept insisting they were nice people. I kept insisting we didn’t need overpriced detergent.
I finally relented, and it turned out he was a pastor named Milan Yerkovich, and his wife was really a nice lady named Kay. (They’re still involved in marriage ministries today, probably helping couples survive much worse disasters than my stubborn resistance to home visits.)
The Breaking Point: The Bible Study Incident
After several weeks of listening and asking questions, we were invited to an evening Bible study.
Seemed innocuous enough. I figured it would be about loving your neighbor or feeding the poor. You know, safe Christian topics.
The subject that night? “Wives, be submissive to your husbands.” None other than Ephesians 5:22-24.
We were more than appalled.
Look, that didn’t sound completely crazy to me, but I’m not stupid. Agreeing with that topic while my wife was within earshot would’ve been an actual death sentence.
I bolted from that study. Sharon was running alongside the right side of the car, trying to get in. Meanwhile, the Pastor was running alongside the left side, trying to calm me down.
I quickly zipped up the window as he tried to talk. Bye-bye, Pastor.
To make matters worse, there were two firefighters and one policeman at the study who decided this was the perfect moment to fan the flames. Professional rescuers, mind you, actively making things worse.
The Turning Point: Bob’s Big Boy Saves the Day
Somehow, we ended up at Bob’s Big Boy restaurant.
It was the first and only time in our lives we ever dined there, which should tell you something about the emotional state of mind we were in.
I remember declaring, over my Big Boy hamburger: “Who does this pastor think he is? He doesn’t even have a collar!”
Always going back to the “one true church” concept, you see. Because apparently, salvation requires proper ecclesiastical fashion accessories.
Sharon and I were furious. We were never returning. Clearly, that whole group was out of their minds.
But here’s the thing: the pastor (apparently) had words with the three amigos who’d stirred the pot that night. And each one of them called and personally apologized to me.
That was big!
That would never happen in the real world. People don’t apologize like that. They don’t humble themselves over stirring up trouble at a Bible study.
Suddenly, the Bible verses that Milan and Kay had shared with us over those weeks broke through.
We became Christians in 1981.
The Aftermath: Understanding Grace
Before we believed, I’d spent countless nights wondering if I would go to heaven when I died.
I’d always conclude, without complete confidence, that surely my good deeds outweighed my evil deeds. And of course, I had my membership in the “one true church” should everything else fail.
After we became believers, we understood the truth: it wasn’t about our works at all.
It was His choice, our faith, and our repentance, all gifts from Him.
Grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.
No collar required. No good deeds calculation. No backup membership card.
Just Christ.
The Reunion (Sort of)
Sharon and I returned to Colorado, thrilled to be believers and excited to share our newfound faith.
We ended up getting booted out of both of our parents’ houses.
We did eventually reunite with our families. But that’s another story…
The Takeaway: Our Gratitude
Looking back, I’m grateful for several things:
The Navy keeping me out of Vietnam’s rice paddies.
My GI Bill funding my education.
My terrible judgment in employers leading us to California.
The priest from hell driving me away from a dead religion.
Milan and Kay’s persistence despite my Amway paranoia.
The three amigos stirring things up at exactly the right time.
Bob’s Big Boy hamburgers facilitating a divine appointment.
But mostly, I’m grateful that Sharon and I became believers together.
That’s the real miracle in this story.
Not that God saved a stubborn, collar-obsessed, good-deeds-counting Catholic boy who thought Amway was his biggest threat while working for a drug-running Godfather wannabe.
But that He saved us both, at the same time, through the faithful witness of a pastor and his wife who wouldn’t give up on two hard-headed Catholics eating hamburgers and plotting their escape.
To God be the glory.
What’s your salvation story? I’d love to hear it - comment below or share this with someone who needs to know that God’s grace reaches even the most stubborn among us.