When I was a small child, my mom took us to church. I remember watching the tears run down her face, I knew that I loved her and that she loved Jesus. If my mom loved Jesus, then surely he was wonderful. Alot of things happened after that time in church, in my parent's marriage.
I really don't understand it or remember most of it, but I do remember my dad demanding that my mom have his Sunday meal on the table at 12 o'clock. Period. There was no wiggle room with my dad. His word was the law. We did not want to be outlaws in our own home. So mother quit going to church. She would take us and pick us up, or the church bus would. This went on for several years. Mother's heart became distant from the Lord, I didn't understand it back then, but now as an adult and mom of 5, I see how if a coal is removed from fire, it will grow cold.
Thankfully mother did her best to keep us in church as children. My heart knew that Jesus was special because my mom and my grandparents loved him. I loved Jesus, but I didn' want him telling me what to do. I was young and I was determined that I was going to have fun until I was old, at least 20. I had decided after I had my fun, that I would then give my heart to Jesus. I continued going to church, all of my friends at church were giving their hearts to the Lord. I wasn't going to, I wanted to have fun. Now, exactly what does fun mean to a 14-15 year old The church I attendend was a very strict no movies, no dancing type church so I guess that is what I was so concerned about. I didn't go to my first movie until I was a senior in high school. So back to not wanting to surrender my fun. I was the only child out of 4 that continued to go to church on a regular basis. There was a secret to my reasoning. It was that I got out of the house and didn't have to put up with the issue of life that occurred there. I could even lay down and go to sleep if I needed to. The pews were cushioned and were softer than the floorboard of the car.
Thankfully, all this time I was in church, I was marinating in the Word of God. It was sinking in.
It was reaching my spiritman. The pastor was preaching in Revelations. I was still not ready to surrender my fun. Then..... I had a nightmare one night. I dreamed that the Lord came back, and I was left behind. I knew that I had made this decision in my dream to not get saved. I knew this was my judgement time in my dream. It was horrible. My own selfishness had kept me out of heaven. I was doomed to hell, that is unless, I was willing to be nibbled on by little mice and then have my head cut off, then maybe I could go to heaven. Remember I said that it was a night mare. Night mares don't normally make sense. I remember looking at the date on the calendar in my dream. It was July 7, 1977....all sevens. I woke up in a panic! July 7th was just a few days a way. I had to get to the church so that I could be saved! I don't guess I knew that I could just give my heart to Jesus at home, ofcourse, I know I was sure that Jesus wasn't in our home, there was too much hell in that house for Jesus to show up. I was sure He didn't want anything to do with us. We were trash, as my father called us. Anyway.... I got to church the following Sunday, I could barely wait until the alter call. I think I was at the alter before the official alter call was made. I had to make sure that I had my fire insurance. I did not want to go to hell.
This is a very breif synopsis of when I gave my heart to Jesus. Sorry if it was choppy.
It is here though, Thankfully His grace has carried me through so much healing, and His love has healed my wounds....one by one.