I remember as a young child, wondering about God. I wanted to know more about Him. One Easter, when I was five, I remember watching a movie of the passion of Christ, and I cried. I loved Jesus, and wanted to know what I needed to do to make Him know I loved Him and who I was. I was drawn to Him, but didn't know how to know Him.
My first "religious" experience, that I can remember, was at the age of ten. We lived in Knoxville, Tennessee. An elderly lady from down the street invited me and a few other children to VBS. We made crafts, had snacks, and a fun time...until the last day. Showing pictures of the sun going black and the moon turning to blood, they told us about Hell and scared us to death. If we didn't want to go through these things or go to Hell, we could come up to a folded chair at the front and be saved. When asked to raise our hands if we were interested, I quickly threw both hands in the air. I mean, I was a smart girl. I knew raising my hand was the smart thing to do. We said a prayer they had for us, and ta-da, I was a Christian, they said. I had no idea what I had said or what it had meant. I just knew I didn't want to go to the fire place.
In Georgia, years later, my dad started going to church. Our whole lives changed, when he accepted the Lord and was saved. A few months later, my mom was saved. They left all we owned, and on a school bus, we journeyed back to Tennessee. My parents were involved in a charismatic church for a period of time. We learned that if you believe you are saved, then you are. I went on believing I was a Christian for many years, yet knowing in my heart that there was something missing. When I doubted my salvation, I would simply remember that day at VBS, and then I'd be alright for awhile. I believed I was sincere, so I was falsely assured that I was saved.
When I turned 18, I moved out and got a job. I was on my own and loved it. My parents asked me to come to church a lot, and sometimes I did to appease them. But, when there, I couldn't wait to get out and get back home. One thing they knew they could count on, was for me to come to a movie at church. They knew a movie would draw myself and my boyfriend to the church. My boyfriend had never been saved, so I thought the movie might work for him. We saw "A Thief in the Night." It really bothered him, and I thought he might be getting close to salvation. However, when I got home and went to bed, I found myself petrified to go to sleep. I feared that the rapture would happen while I slept. I feared waking up and realizing I had been left, and everyone I knew and loved was gone. I stayed awake many nights praying, "Lord, if I'm not saved, save me, save me." In the morning, I would forget all about my fears and prayers. After many months of this, I began to realize that I might not be saved. I was still confused about what I had prayed when I was ten.
One day, I called my mom. This was unusual. Since having my freedom, I rarely called. I didn't want to deal with the questions and prying into my life. I called, because I knew she would bring the subject up without me having to ask. I thought, somehow, that if she knew I wasn't saved, she would be disappointed in me. (Duh, I know.) We were talking about my brother's rebellion at home. Then my mother said, "You know, when Mark was young, he thought he got saved." Like me, Mom had told him that if he believed it, then it happened. She said, "You know, Kim, we were wrong, and we realize that now. It means a lot more. It means giving up your life, turning your life over to Christ, asking forgiveness, not holding on to anything, but giving all to Him." It hit me like a brick. I thought back and realized that I hadn't done that. I had never surrendered my life.
A few weeks later, my parents were going to Tennessee for our family homecoming. They asked me if I wanted to go. For some reason, I felt compelled to go, and said I would. I rarely went anywhere with my family, but I had been experiencing nightmares about dying and being left behind. I lived every day in fear, so I was eager to get away for awhile. My dad was already in Tennessee, so that left my mom, Aunt Juanita, the kids and me.
Three-hundred miles from home, our truck broke down. There was a real battle going over my soul, I realized. Going on inside of me, was a huge battle, and my mother was trying to decide whether to go on or go home. I really wanted to go to Tennessee, though I didn't know why. The struggle going on inside me was about disappointing my parents about my "salvation" not being real. I was embarrassed to admit it, but decided to leave it to God to work it all out. I urged Mom to go to Tennessee, so we went on, but we had to stop every 50 miles to fix the truck. We were all in an unusually good mood. Even the kids were good.
From Wildwood, Florida to Knoxville, Tennessee, my mom put a can of oil in every 50 miles and a can of STP oil treatment every 100 miles. The dipstick showed no oil at all in the engine. It wasn't being burned, and it wasn't leaking anywhere on the ground or blowing onto the engine. It was just disappearing. Mom bought over $400 worth of engine parts, and it still was disappearing. Then our brand new battery died, and we had to buy another, and it didn't work. We bought a new alternator while still putting oil in every 50 miles. Did I mention that there was a battle going on over my soul?
We didn't understand it at all. During this long trip, however, I was evaluating my life and the possibility of a true salvation...the cost to my life and possible changes to be made. I was lost in the battle for control of my life. I hated who I was, how I acted, my sadness and depression, my fear, but was I willing to trust God enough with my life to turn it over to him?
We finally reached our destination, and Dad said it was impossible to put 22 quarts of oil and 12 quarts of STP into that truck and not have it show up anywhere. But it did. Dad took it to a mechanic, but they found nothing wrong with it. When we got back into the mountains (another 3 hour drive), we were exhausted. Our trip had taken four and half days. It was Saturday evening, the fourth of July, and they were having services at our old family church. We all went, but after a short time, Mom wanted to leave, because she was exhausted. She asked if I wanted to go, and I said that I wanted to stay a little longer. Needless to say, I got a weird look. My aunt said she would stay with me. A few minutes later, she said she had to go rest. She asked if I was coming, but I said I was going to stay. Again, a weird look. I was determined I was going to get my life straightened out once and for all.
It finally dawned on me that I didn't have what those people in the service had. As I was pondering how to do this, the service went into an ordination service. There were candidates sitting on the prayer benches, so in the back row of that little country church, I gave my life to Jesus. I counted the cost, and knew I didn't want to live without Him. I told Him that I was giving up control of my life. He could have all of me. I would do whatever He wanted me to do and go wherever He wanted me to go. My future and heart was His to serve Him all of my life.
When I got back to the house where we were staying, my Papaw had gathered everyone in the living room and was preaching/talking. As he talked, he turned, and I caught his eye. He started crying and clapping while looking at me. He continued his talk for another half an hour, but as soon as he was done, he quickly came over to me, "Tell old Papaw what you've done, Sweetie," he said. Tears filled my eyes as I explained what I had prayed. He said, "Honey, you got saved. You get right out there and tell your Momma and Daddy." When I told him I was afraid they would be disappointed, he quickly assured me they already knew. They had been praying, and would be happy to hear about it. They were. I know in my heart that this is where I opened my hand and let go of everything. I turned it all over to Him. By giving myself to be a servant to Jesus, He set me free.
Praise his name! I could have never made it through this life without Him.
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