Let Me Tell You About...
Friday, July 12, 2013
Some of you are doing the math in your head and trying to figure out how old I was when I was saved. I'll give you a hand and tell you that on July 12, 1994 I was fourteen years, two months, and eleven days old - if you want to be exact. Now, some of you are probably thinking that's fairly late for someone who had been in church since she was only a few weeks old. It was, but the reason is part of the journey.
I did grow up in church. I watched my Dad get saved and baptized when I was six years old. I witnessed countless people walking down the aisle during altar calls for years during sermons and revivals. Sometimes I felt like I should go too, but I wasn't ready. I just knew that, if not much else. It wouldn't have been true, but just doing what everyone else was doing.
In September of 1988, I was eight years old, and some NASA engineer named Edgar C. Whisenant predicted that the Rapture would take place some time between September 11 and 13. For some reason many people, including my mother, completely disregarded Matthew 24:36, and took this seriously. My mother, in her incredibly misguided ways, started telling me lovely stories about what would happen when the Rapture happened and about the Tribulation at bedtime. After so many nights of this, she decided I needed to visit with our church's youth / children minister at the time, Steve. I did not want to go, but I had no choice. One night we sat in his office, and rather like a puppet I was led to say a prayer. The next Sunday I was presented in front of the church and baptized. I walked the world for six years thinking I must be saved, but knew in my heart that I wasn't. I didn't make that choice on my own to say the Sinner's Prayer. It was made for me.
Time passed. My Dad died suddenly when I was ten. My life seemed to keep getting turned upside down. I was becoming a teenager. In the midst of the tumult and upheaval going on in my life, I still regularly went to church and became involved with our youth group. I went to church camp at least once every summer. I still kept feeling a tugging at my heart that I needed to really ask Jesus into my life, and I kept telling myself I already had.
Getting It Right
So in July of the summer before I started high school, I went with my church youth group to Youth Camp at KBA (Kiamichi Baptist Assembly for those of you who haven't heard of it) like I did most summers. This time though, I knew that something would happen. On Tuesday night the sermon spoke to me, but more so the Holy Spirit was working on me, I just remember at some point during the invitation a rush of wind pushing me up the aisle. I went to a room in the back of the tabernacle and didn't need any help saying the prayer. By then I knew it by heart.
On that hot July night, I was saved. I knew that I was and am a sinner. Romans 3:23 was as burned in my memory as John 3:16. I remembered the ABC's of salvation. I admitted I was a sinner. I believed in Jesus as God's son, that he died on the cross and raised from the dead to give me the gift of salvation from my sins. I confessed my faith, remembering Romans 10:9-13.
Have I lived a sinless and faultless life the past nineteen years? No. The difference now is that I now have the conviction and the comfort of the Holy Spirit within me. I have confessed that Jesus if Lord and know now, by own volition, I am saved. Life hasn't always been easy. I have rebelled sometimes from Him, but He has never and will never leave me. My life really began nineteen years ago. I don't think it would be right to tell people that I'm only nineteen though.
Can you tell me about when you were saved?