I had thought I was saved. I had told everyone in my family and church family I was. I was even baptized. I knew all along that I never was saved. The devil had convinced me that everyone would think I was crazy if I told them any different now. I was determined not to.
I remember it was a cold Sunday night. I was 10 years old, and we had just moved into the new church, and there was a visiting preacher. I had been under conviction for several weeks, and tried my best to stay out of church. I would fake being sick, or beg to stay at home, but each time, Mom and Dad always made me go. That night I was under conviction worse than I had ever been. No one else knew this though, because everyone else thought I was saved. So when he gave the altar call, I don’t even remember going to the altar. I just remember praying when I got there. I knew if I left that church and died, I was going to hell and that got my attention. I don’t know how long I stayed there, or who was around me. I just remember praying and praying for the Lord to take the burden that was so great from me. He answered my prayer and saved my soul. This made February 11, 1996 the most important night of my life.
After I got up and told everyone, they didn’t think I was crazy after all. I had fallen three days before playing with my sisters. My arm was clearly broke, but my mom thought it wasn’t and it would just “get better.” I remember hugging everyone around me with that limp arm. For three days I hadn’t been able to move it, but it wasn’t even bothering me that night.
I don’t know why God wanted to save me. I know I have done so many wrong things God has probably wondered that himself sometimes. He has brought me out of some things I couldn’t have made it out of without him. In February, it will be 10 years. I hope that I’m always found doing God’s will always in my life. He has definitely done more for me than I ever realized that night it happened.