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I can remember loving Jesus as a very young child. I didn't quite understand who He was, but I knew He was special. Hearing about Him in Sunday School made me happy. I learned that the reason we celebrate Christmas was because He was born. And Christmas was maybe my very most favorite thing in all the world! I can remember seeing a TV show where a glowing picture of Jesus shone through clouds while beautiful harp music played in the background. Then a man would begin to talk about Jesus and I'd listen as my world came to a standstill about me until his deep voice faded into harp music and into clouds and then Jesus was gone until the next day. I knew Jesus loved me and in that child's heart, I loved Jesus almost as much as I loved Mom and Dad.
So I grew and went to church, Bible School and summer camps, and I learned so much about Jesus. I learned about His life and how He died on a cross. Even in school we learned about Jesus. He was a part of my everyday life. And still I loved Jesus. . .didn't everyone?
All of a sudden, at age 12, I was a young lady and I was baptized and became a member of the church. I can remember Mom instructing me to take off my little pillbox hat when the minister came to me so he could sprinkle water on my head. Sometime after this, I heard a preacher on the radio talking about being a Christian. I'd never heard of this, so I asked Mom if we were Christians. She replied that, of course, we were Christians: we went to church. Then came my teen years. The world around me was in turmoil with Viet Nam, protests, racial issues, hippies, flower power, drugs, and many more things I didn't really comprehend. And on the inside, my heart was just as turbulent.. I continued to go to church with my family, slowly becoming more and more concious of the world about me. It seemed to me that the people at church were like cardboard cut-outs that were carried in each week and then back out again so they could come back the next week. It was just a habit that good people did and so it was with me. My teenage heart became disillusioned as Jesus faded into the background of my life.
When I was 17, I had a summer job and stayed with an aunt. It was my second summer away from home. No one in my aunt's house even went to church. So I got myself up and out each Sunday to attend a church there in the neighborhood. Though it was the same denomination as mine, it seemed more alive. Perhaps it was that the people were younger, but it seemed that they had more spirit. I enjoyed the services very much. They did one thing differently than my church at home: they had an altar call at the end of each service.
One Sunday, the preacher talked about Jesus dying on the cross. I knew the history, so I settled in to hear it again. But this time it was different. This time the preacher said that Jesus had died on the cross for my sins. I had never heard that before. Suddenly, it clicked! Jesus died for me. Seemed I'd always known the how, but I'd never known the why. I went to the altar and knelt, tears in my eyes. I really didn't know what to say, so I quietly told Jesus that I loved Him and thanked Him for dying for me. I asked Him to always be in my heart. After that, I always felt Him with me. It was the beginning of my walk with Him.
That was over 25 years ago. I have grown more in God's will. I know His forgiveness. Each day I renew my walk with Jesus. He is the center of my life now. Sometimes life is a struggle, but I have His joy, peace and love within me. And, yes, I do love Jesus with all my heart.
Would you like to know more about asking Jesus into your heart? Is there something I can pray with you about? If so, please email me.
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