I would like to take you a few years back to where this all began, when I first met Christ. I am not sure of my exact age but I had not yet reached high school. My mother took myself and my younger siblings to church every Sunday and occasional evening meetings during the week. I can’t remember much from these meetings except the music was loud, yet wonderful and my mom would bring us lots of toys to play with while the pastor spoke for what seemed, hours on end.
The older I got (old enough to skip ‘children’s church’), I began to listen to this pastor and each Sunday I left feeling something new and thinking about what was said (from what I understood).
Then one sunny Sunday I heard him preach about being born again; how important it is as a Christian. That you need to be born again to get into the kingdom of heaven. This replayed in my thoughts for weeks, until I grabbed the courage to ask my mom to speak to the pastor for me.
Finally I was invited to his house one Sunday after church, I was so excited yet extremely nervous for I had no idea what was ahead.
We arrived at his house and I walked out my mom’s car and the closer we got to his front door I started to get second thoughts but we were already too close for me to back out now. The second I stepped foot in his home, I felt a warm presence surround me, comforting and welcoming I felt over whelmed but it was wonderful at the same time. Tears filled my eyes and I knew something very special was about to happen.