Every believer has a point in their life when they realize their need for Jesus. I have my own story about that–but I can’t tell it without going farther back in time.
When I was young, neither of my parents thought they needed God. They genuinely thought they were Christians, but they didn’t live like it. Neither of them could explain their beliefs. They simply thought all Americans were born Christians.
And then came the day of change.
I was eight when my mom attended a cooking class. A woman at the class shared her testimony of how she had been saved by Jesus from her sin. Mom was amazed by what she heard, and right then and there, she repented and gave her own life to Jesus.
She was never the same again.
In God’s perfect way, He was working on my dad’s heart at this very same time. Dad loved to read. He regularly checked books out from the local library, and at this time, he was currently working through The Left Behind series.
I’ve never read the series (it’s not really my preferred genre), but Dad talks about one scene where a group gathers to listen to a recording of a preacher. The sermon is on John 14:6 where Jesus says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Dad didn’t think such a verse actually existed. God couldn’t have created just one path of salvation.
Still, the curiosity bothered him enough that he went to his parents’ house and dug out his old Bible. Imagine his surprise when he found that the verse actually did exist.
He kept reading, intrigued, and for the next several nights when I ran into his room to say goodnight, I was puzzled over why Daddy was reading the Bible, of all things.
Eventually, several things became clear in Dad’s mind.
If he wanted to believe that the Bible was true, he had to accept that there was only one way to be saved.
If there was only one way to be saved, he needed to accept it–because he wasn’t currently on that “one path.”
And the way of salvation could only be found through Jesus.
It isn’t incredible that there’s one way of salvation. It’s incredible that there’s any way.
Dad accepted that one way of salvation and gave his life to the Lord.
Now that both my parents were believers, things changed around our house. We stopped watching some shows. Certain words were banned. The changes came gradually, but persistently.
And that’s where my story picks up.
All these changes affected me, of course. I found it disturbing to hear Mom and Dad confess to us kids that they weren’t good people. If Mom and Dad weren’t good people then that meant . . . there was no such thing as a good person.
And what did that mean for me?
Regardless of my disturbed feelings, I was pleased that Mom and Dad were seeking the Lord. I’d spent my whole life puzzling what God was. People said He was powerful and the King of heaven and earth. They said He was important and not someone to be treated lightly. So why did we only worship him on Sundays at a very select time?
Sometimes I suspected I was being lied to. Maybe the grownups just said there was a God because they thought it would make children behave.
Then I would look at my own self. I existed. Thus someone must have made me. It made sense in my child’s mind. What didn’t make sense was the way people acted.
After Mom and Dad were saved, the pieces began to click into place for me. Yes, there was a God, and yes, He was important. The problem wasn’t Him. It was out own fault for sinning and ignoring Him.
I was eleven when my family sat under some good preaching and I finally understood the final step to knowing Jesus. Knowing about Him wasn’t enough. Having parents who belonged to Him wasn’t enough either. I needed to make my own decision to repent of my sin and follow Him.
So I did.
And that was the beginning of how I came to know Jesus.
Now He’s my delight and the One who impacts all of my life. It’s a joy to serve Him and to be able to write books that make much of Him.