Mondays won’t always be about me, that would be boring. But we all have a story to tell. God wrote each of our stories in a unique way so that we can help each other. We weren’t made to live alone. We were made to first and foremost worship our Lord, but we were also made to live in community. So here’s part of my story.
I went to church from birth until about Kindergarten but I don’t remember much except some of the Bible stories. When I was in the sixth grade I begged my parents to start taking us to church.
I knew I was missing something, but I didn’t know what.
I remember sitting in a youth group meeting with middle and high schoolers and my friend telling everyone that I didn’t know if I was saved or not. I about died. Later, the Youth Minister asked me if I wanted to talk and I said sure. I figured he wanted to talk about ways to bring in more middle schoolers. We walked over to the offices and he got the Pastor. Then they brought my Dad in the room. I was so confused and seriously thought I was in trouble. The Pastor knelt down in front of me and prayed “The Sinners Prayer.” They all told me how proud they were of me and we scheduled my baptism. I was speechless. But this shy, quiet, people pleaser wasn’t about to burst their bubble and tell them I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. I had a meeting with the baptism coordinator and she asked me if I knew about the symbolism of baptism. Nope. Sure didn’t. And yet she still let me continue. But at least know I knew that baptism symbolized the death and resurrection of Christ. Even if I didn’t understand why. So I was baptized and went along in life thinking I was “saved” but feeling unsettled about the whole thing at the same time.
Thankfully in God sovereignty, He sent a very special youth minister to our church. I was even on the committee that hired him. He and his wife taught me what it really meant to be saved. That being a Believer was more than praying a pray and being baptized. Of course those things were important and part of it, but if you didn’t know who Jesus was in the first place, that’s a huge problem. At Summer Camp one night I knew I needed to officially make it right. I had to do the hardest thing this shy, people pleaser had ever done at this point in her life. I had to tell our Youth Pastors wife that I didn’t think I was really a Believer. No. That I wasn’t a Believer. Although I had checked off everything I was supposed to do, I didn’t know the true meaning when I did it. I started bawling. Big ugly tears. Sobs. She didn’t know what was wrong and I was having a hard time with words. Eventually I got it all out. She was shocked but understanding. We went through the Roman Road and I prayed to the Lord confessing that I was a sinner in need of His grace and mercy. Thanking Him for sending Jesus to die on the cross for my sins. Confessing that He alone is Lord and Savior. It was so freeing. Now I knew that I was a Believer.
Of course we came back from camp and not long after our Youth pastor left. I asked the new Youth Pastor if he thought I should be baptized again. He said no. It wasn’t necessary. But the unsettled feeling was back. I couldn’t shake it. I knew that I needed to be baptized again. The first time wasn’t a real display of my salvation. Haha! I didn’t even know what it meant that first time. But no one seemed concerned. Just me.
It wasn’t until we moved to North Carolina to attend SEBTS that we found a solid church home who believed with me that I needed to be baptized again. So I was. I bawled through my testimony. Sobs. But I was baptized in Falls Lake to symbolize the death and resurrection of Christ. What a glorious day that was!
I would absolutely love to hear your story. Please link up in the comments or feel free to share your story below. I can’t wait to see how God is writing your story.