Here's One For Easter
I have recently had the privilege of leading a young boy to accepting Jesus Christ as his Savior. He had asked me why they had killed God, and I knew that I had to help him to understand what Jesus had done for us when He gave up His life for us.
This brings to mind a time in my life when I lived in a part of the Midwest where my dad had his first church. We lived in an apartment that was built in the upper story of Dad’s church. I was five but not yet in kindergarten, and Bold One was a monkey-faced toddler bouncing up and down in his crib.
Bold One usually rattled this cage of his and grunted and squealed until he woke me up. His face would light up when I opened my blue eyes to meet his big brown ones. I used to laugh every morning at his smiling face. He used to smile with his mouth wide open, and I have pictures to prove it. He charmed me into lowering the rail to the crib and use all my strength and balance to get him down and out onto the floor.
Mom would put him into his walker with his first bottle of the day, and he would follow me everywhere he could. I found out why Mom wanted me to close the door to the staircase going to the ground floor when Bold One decided to follow me down the steps in that walker. I caught him just as the first wheel went over the top step and he was smiling the whole time I was straining to get him back up the stairs. That was the first time I’d saved his life. Another time is written in “Fish And Occasional Torture.”
Our lives were totally wrapped up in the doings of the church. I remember helping Mom mop the basement floor where all the Sunday school rooms seem to be in any older church building. We were getting ready for a Halloween party.
Another time, I remember my first experience with chemical agents. Mom had the old meat grinder out and I was helping her grind ham, pickles and onions for ham salad sandwiches for another church function. The onions were so strong that our eyes started to water. I had never experienced that before and became quite frightened and irritated. I wondered why it got worse when I kept rubbing my eyes! Finally Mom made me wash my hands and go outside for some fresh air. The only time I have ever felt that overwhelmed since was in the tear gas chamber when I was in the Air Force.
The fun part of living there was there was a huge sand box way out in back of the church where I spent most of the warm days playing in the sand. I met all of the neighbor kids in that sand box including one older boy who tried to convince me that he ate all the worms. Dad later showed me he had dropped them in the grass without me catching him.
An older girl would come by once in a while and play with all the kids. She did “Ring Around The Rosie” with us. She also taught us one called “Speedboat”. We would join hands and walk in a circle chanting, “Speedboat, speedboat go so slow. Speedboat, speedboat go so fast.” Then we would run in a circle. Then we’d chant, “Speedboat, speedboat step on the gas!” and we’d all let go of our hands and fall to the ground. We thought that was the best game.
That winter, there was a huge pile of snow from the snow removal equipment in the yard. I climbed the hill of snow at my mother’s suggestion. When I slid down the hill, my snow pants left a smooth streak in the hill, so I told my mother I had made a slide in the snow. My mom came out and tried my slide and we laughed and laughed when I told her she had made it longer. It wasn’t often I saw my mom covered with snow.
This boy that gave his heart to Jesus reminded me of this time in my life. That Easter, I was in my Sunday school class listening for the first time of how mean people had been to Jesus. They whipped him and made him bleed, and punched him. Then they nailed him to a cross where he died. I cried and cried blubbering, “Why? Why?”
The teacher kept saying, “For our sins.” That meant nothing to me. My buddy Jesus was getting clobbered! Finally, the teacher asked me if I had asked Jesus into my heart, but I didn’t answer. She could see that I loved Jesus and so she asked me if I wanted to ask Him into my heart and helped me say the sinner’s prayer.
That was the day I asked Jesus to come into my heart, and He became my Savior and friend. As time went on, I came to understand more and more what Jesus had done for all who believe.
This brings to mind a time in my life when I lived in a part of the Midwest where my dad had his first church. We lived in an apartment that was built in the upper story of Dad’s church. I was five but not yet in kindergarten, and Bold One was a monkey-faced toddler bouncing up and down in his crib.
Bold One usually rattled this cage of his and grunted and squealed until he woke me up. His face would light up when I opened my blue eyes to meet his big brown ones. I used to laugh every morning at his smiling face. He used to smile with his mouth wide open, and I have pictures to prove it. He charmed me into lowering the rail to the crib and use all my strength and balance to get him down and out onto the floor.
Mom would put him into his walker with his first bottle of the day, and he would follow me everywhere he could. I found out why Mom wanted me to close the door to the staircase going to the ground floor when Bold One decided to follow me down the steps in that walker. I caught him just as the first wheel went over the top step and he was smiling the whole time I was straining to get him back up the stairs. That was the first time I’d saved his life. Another time is written in “Fish And Occasional Torture.”
Our lives were totally wrapped up in the doings of the church. I remember helping Mom mop the basement floor where all the Sunday school rooms seem to be in any older church building. We were getting ready for a Halloween party.
Another time, I remember my first experience with chemical agents. Mom had the old meat grinder out and I was helping her grind ham, pickles and onions for ham salad sandwiches for another church function. The onions were so strong that our eyes started to water. I had never experienced that before and became quite frightened and irritated. I wondered why it got worse when I kept rubbing my eyes! Finally Mom made me wash my hands and go outside for some fresh air. The only time I have ever felt that overwhelmed since was in the tear gas chamber when I was in the Air Force.
The fun part of living there was there was a huge sand box way out in back of the church where I spent most of the warm days playing in the sand. I met all of the neighbor kids in that sand box including one older boy who tried to convince me that he ate all the worms. Dad later showed me he had dropped them in the grass without me catching him.
An older girl would come by once in a while and play with all the kids. She did “Ring Around The Rosie” with us. She also taught us one called “Speedboat”. We would join hands and walk in a circle chanting, “Speedboat, speedboat go so slow. Speedboat, speedboat go so fast.” Then we would run in a circle. Then we’d chant, “Speedboat, speedboat step on the gas!” and we’d all let go of our hands and fall to the ground. We thought that was the best game.
That winter, there was a huge pile of snow from the snow removal equipment in the yard. I climbed the hill of snow at my mother’s suggestion. When I slid down the hill, my snow pants left a smooth streak in the hill, so I told my mother I had made a slide in the snow. My mom came out and tried my slide and we laughed and laughed when I told her she had made it longer. It wasn’t often I saw my mom covered with snow.
This boy that gave his heart to Jesus reminded me of this time in my life. That Easter, I was in my Sunday school class listening for the first time of how mean people had been to Jesus. They whipped him and made him bleed, and punched him. Then they nailed him to a cross where he died. I cried and cried blubbering, “Why? Why?”
The teacher kept saying, “For our sins.” That meant nothing to me. My buddy Jesus was getting clobbered! Finally, the teacher asked me if I had asked Jesus into my heart, but I didn’t answer. She could see that I loved Jesus and so she asked me if I wanted to ask Him into my heart and helped me say the sinner’s prayer.
That was the day I asked Jesus to come into my heart, and He became my Savior and friend. As time went on, I came to understand more and more what Jesus had done for all who believe.
posted by praiseage at 5:34 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home