A friend once told me that sharing Jesus meant sharing your own story, because everyone's story was unique, much like our relationship with God. That stayed with me for a while; I kept wondering what my story was. I was brought up in a denomination that said we must preach the gospel. So I preached it, taught it, and shared it—boy, did I. However, I rarely, if ever, shared my story. I didn't share my "testimony," how I got "saved," or how I was "born again." These were tough concepts to interpret. And then it dawned on me. Sharing my story explained those concepts in simple terms.
I'll do that now. This is my story. Not my parents. My own. My interpretation, my memories, my relationship with God. I'll explain it to you like I was six.
Yep, I was six years old. Alcohol, wife-beating, screaming, yelling, hitting, hunger, fear—they were all a part of my young life. I didn't know any other way. I didn't know other homes were different. I didn't know kids loved their dads, or that other dads were nice. I was afraid of mine; he was mean. Drunk and mean. I hated him. I really did, well, as much as a six-year-old could. When he would begin beating my mother, I would jump on his back and try to make him stop. As you can imagine, that didn't go over well. He would grab me and sling me across the room like a rag doll. I do remember vividly hitting the wall with a thud and sliding down to the floor. So, that was what I knew. That was the beginning of my story.
And then—one day, everything changed. It really did happen in one day. I was there; I saw it; I experienced it. The change was miraculous. That's what that word meant to me that day. I witnessed a miracle. I've shared the story in another blog about how my dad became a Christian, so I won't repeat it. But how did I become one? And that is my story.
The day my dad became a Christian was the very day I was saved. I witnessed a miracle. No drinking, beating, swearing, etc. It stopped instantly. I was saved from any further torment. God saved me not only from myself, but from others around me. That is my definition of salvation. I was sinking, drowning, and God saved me. It was a very simple concept for me. Remember, I was only six, after all. Some people make a big deal of the word salvation. However, I don't. It's simple. The Bible says, Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved. Oh, I believed in Him all right. I met him that day. I saw a miracle with my very own eyes! That day, I believed in Jesus; He saved me from a horrible situation. He saved me. Why do grown-ups try to make it so hard to understand? So confusing? Why can't they leave it alone and let Jesus do the heavy lifting? They always seem to muck things up. Silly rituals, special prayers, concordances—are you serious? Six-year-olds don't understand that. They need to just explain it to people like they were six.
So, let's talk about the phrase "born again." Remember, I was just six years old. In children's church, one Sunday, I heard this phrase a lot. We didn't know what it meant then. However, God did. The best way to teach a child is to show them. I had a wonderful Sunday School teacher who taught three verses. God has caused us to be born again to a living hope through Jesus. All I heard was hope. I wanted hope. And then, we were (as Christians) new creations. That was harder for me to understand, so I filed it away. And the last one: he saved us not because of anything we did, but because of his mercy and grace. That I could grasp. All I heard about being born again was that God was merciful, and that I was a new creation. Easy peasy. Simple. Truth that a child could understand. I was a Christian. I was saved from fear, anger, and hate, and I was born again and made new. I was now ready to start my new life with God.
This story of mine is my testimony, my truth. Do I have proof? I think I do. Just look at my life. I walk my talk. I love God more than anything on this earth. Do I still fight battles of anger, sadness, grief, worry, fear? Yes, I do. And then I remember that little girl who lived the life before. She found out that the life after, life with her God, was so much better. Why? Well, it was like she had been born again into a whole new life. Actually, the same thing happened to my parents. My life was turned upside down, then right side up again. I had been saved from horrible living situations. However, because of that miracle, I learned to trust. I learned to believe. To be thankful. And to love. I became a new creation right before everyone's eyes.
This is my story, oversimplified and made easy to comprehend. Even a six-year-old can understand it. So, please, you Bible scholars, don't muck it up with your big words, your theologies, and so many different denominations. Good grief, so many. I'd love for churches to go back to an easy version, one of simplicity, truth, and being very childlike. And then, explain it to me like I was six.
