In the past few weeks, I have heard about several people at my church whose children have gotten saved. One lady talked about her daughter's profession of faith on Facebook. A friend, and fellow blogger, wrote the sweetest post of how her daughter and nephew got saved in the car while driving to the beach. It's always sweet to hear of children coming to know the Lord at such an early age.
But then there's the people who question "Did they truly get saved? They are too young to understand." Even Jesus Himself said in the book of Matthew that "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 20:2-4)
All this talk about children getting saved has made me think back to my own salvation. I never had one of those "life-defining moments" like you hear some people tell of when they got saved. I have heard of people giving testimony after testimony of how they had drifted into a life of drugs, or alcohol, or abuse, or some other horrible lifestyle, and how someone brought the Gospel to them in such a way that they realized they needed Jesus in their life. And how their lives changed so dramatically afterwards.
Salvation didn't come that way to me. I was brought up in a Christian home, by parents who brought me to church every time the doors were open. I was that little girl standing up on the pew during the songs. I remember going to Sunday School and VBS and revival services. I had wonderful teachers in Sunday School and Sunday Night groups and on Wednesday night services too. It was at summer church camp where I met Jesus, on a warm summer evening after bedtime devotions with our counselor. I don't remember her name, except that everybody called her "Glo". I remember this because the "song of the week" was "Footprints of Jesus", and a line in the song says, "Foot prints of Jesus, that make the pathway glow.." I was only 9 years old.
I remember sitting on the front porch of the cabin with Glo, praying and telling Jesus that I was a sinner and that I wanted Him to be the Lord of my life. I remember going down to the front of my church the following Sunday, with another girl who also got saved at camp. I remember Pastor Thompson praying with me and all the people of the church shaking my hand. I remember a big cinder block in the bottom of the baptistry for me to stand on so I would be above the water.
I am so thankful that I was able to come to know Jesus at an early age--that I did not have to live through the things that some people had to. I am thankful for loving, Christian parents who taught me the Gospel. I am thankful for a heritage of Christian Grandparents and Great-Grandparents. I pray that Buddy and I can be the example to Quinn that he needs, and that he, too, can come to know Jesus at an early age. We've been praying with him at night since the first night he was in this world and we always pray that he will one day come to know the Lord as his personal Saviour.
All we need is the faith of a child....