When Forty Years Led Me Home
My name is Assdhy Lolowang, and I was born in a small town by the shore called Fakfak, Indonesia.
Growing up, I never truly knew what home meant. Every three years, my family moved — sometimes to a different neighborhood, sometimes to a different country. By the time I started to settle, pack-up time came again.
I never had what many people treasure: a childhood friend from the same street, the same school, the same church. My constants were my siblings, my parents, and a name that was spoken over me from the beginning: Jesus.
My mother, a pastor’s daughter, made sure I grew up hearing about Him. But knowing about Jesus and actually walking with Him are not the same thing. My spiritual life mirrored our moving pattern — unstable, shifting, starting and stopping every few years.
I was baptized around ten. By thirteen, I was running. Rebellious. Restless. Angry. I walked away from home in my heart long before I walked away in my feet.
At one point, gang members approached me to join them. I refused, and I thank God for that. But another enemy had already moved in quietly: self. I became addicted to achievement, recognition, and winning.
I chased grades, applause, and first place. I made the local Edison-Metuchen newspaper for straight A’s. I received a scholarship offer to the University of Colorado. And then I threw it all away. By senior year, I barely graduated high school.
My life became a pattern: rise high, fall hard. Believe in Jesus, but live like everything depended on me.
Trying to Be Good Enough
After high school, my parents suggested I work. I trained as a Certified Nursing Assistant, caring for the elderly. Part of me believed that helping people might earn me points with God.
At church, my parents were involved in ministry, and I joined in. I helped, I taught Sabbath School, I served. From the outside, it looked strong. Inside, it was hollow. I knew I was missing something — or rather, Someone. I was missing Jesus Himself.
Hoping to fix this, I attended an evangelistic training school in Michigan. I was re-baptized. I came home on fire. I led youth outreach, Bible studies, door-to-door work. I spent my own money and told myself, “What is money if it’s not for God’s glory?”
But beneath the passion, an old lie was still alive: “If I do more for God, maybe I’ll finally be right with Him.” Without realizing it, I was still chasing salvation by works.
Lost in a Virtual World
When religious effort didn’t fill the emptiness, I searched for validation somewhere else: in relationships and in a virtual world called Kaneva.
There, I crafted a different version of myself. I opened virtual clubs. I entertained people from Brazil, Portugal, the United Kingdom, Indonesia, Switzerland, and beyond. I tasted a cheap version of fame.
Weekdays, I partied online. Sabbaths, I “worshiped” my version of Jesus. The split grew wider. Eventually, I started to see people the way I saw avatars: temporary, replaceable. I played with hearts. I lacked sincerity. I acted like god while barely knowing God.
When Grace Refused to Let Go
But even then, God did not walk away.
In His mercy, He led me to a young woman I met at Generation of Youth for Christ (GYC). Our relationship wasn’t perfect; it was fragile and complicated. On our wedding night, I was tempted to give up, deciding it would never work.
But God would not agree with my plan. He held us together. Through all the ups and downs, failures and frustrations, He guarded what I was ready to throw away. Our marriage stands today not because I was faithful, but because He was.
Still, my life felt disjointed. After COVID, we sold our home in Colorado and considered moving to Indonesia. Uncertainty grew louder. Direction felt blurry.
And in the middle of that confusion, one invitation from God quietly returned: Surrender.
When Forty Became a Turning Point
At the age of forty, I finally stopped trying to negotiate with God and whispered what I should have said long ago: “Lead me, Lord.”
He did. Not into business success, not into building my brand, not into the life I thought I wanted. Instead, God led me into Theology school. Out of all possible paths, He pulled me out of my comfort zone into His purpose.
Forty. That number would not leave my mind.
I thought about the lame man in Acts 3. Over forty years old. Every day at the temple gate called Beautiful. Close to the presence of God, but not walking in wholeness. Perhaps he had seen Jesus before. Perhaps he heard sermons, prayers, songs. Yet he kept asking for the same thing:
Alms, not healing. Money, not transformation.
Then Peter and John stopped and said:
“Silver and gold have I none, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.”
And he did.
Luke is intentional when he writes:
“For the man on whom this sign of healing was performed was more than forty years old.” (Acts 4:22)
That detail matters. In Scripture, forty is not random. It is often the number of testing, completion, and transition:
- Forty days of rain in the flood.
- Forty years of Moses in Midian.
- Forty years of Israel in the wilderness.
- Forty days of Moses on Sinai.
- Forty days of Elijah’s journey to Horeb.
- Forty days of Jesus’ fasting and temptation.
- Forty days of Jesus’ appearances after the resurrection.
Forty is often the space between what was and what will be. A closing of one chapter, and the opening of another in God’s timing.
So I asked myself: Could it be that after forty years of wandering, running, grasping, God is finally bringing me into what He had in mind all along?
I don’t claim to have the full answer. But I know this:
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6)
It was never my discipline that could finish the story. Never my ministry. Never my good works. Never my image, online or offline.
It is God’s work. It is Christ's work, the living water, who has never left you nor forsaken you.
A Question for You
Maybe your story feels like mine.
Maybe you’ve spent years searching for stability, meaning, identity. Maybe you’ve tried success, relationships, religion, pleasure, productivity, or even “doing things for God,” but something is still missing.
Maybe you’ve been sitting at your own “Beautiful Gate” for a long time, asking for small things while God is ready to offer you a new life.
If you’ve been wandering for ten, twenty, or forty years, hear this today:
It’s not too late. You are not too far. And Jesus has not moved away from you.
The same Jesus who lifted the lame man is reaching for you right now. Not to hand you silver or gold, but to give you something infinitely better:
Himself.
So here is my invitation, from one wanderer-turned-witness to another:
Would you give God a chance?
Not a casual acknowledgement. Not a religious performance. A real surrender.
Right where you are, you can say:
“Jesus, I’m done trying to direct my own life. Take my heart. Lead me. Help me rise and walk with You.”
If He can reach a broken, prideful, performance-driven, wandering heart like mine after forty years, He can reach yours too. And He will.
