Thirty-one years ago yesterday, I found mercy.
Sitting in children’s church, I’d cringe listening to Mr. Leroy and Mrs. Delane as they told us about Adam and Eve’s sin. I was so mad at Eve for eating the fruit. Now everything’s a mess.
I’d lie in bed at night as a four-year-old, thinking about the delicious thrill of biting my three-year-old brother back when, screaming mad, he bit me wrestling in the front yard. Guilt would churn in my heart along with the hate, condemning me. I knew I was sinning. I knew I needed a Saviour. And I was determined to ignore Him.
Like a hardened criminal, I tensed against the pull to “be saved.” I was a good little girl! Surely only bad little girls needed to “get saved.” No one could see the meanness inside me, so surely I wasn’t that bad. Okay, the Father up above looking down in love saw, but I didn’t want to think about Him.
Like a breaking tsunami, it got to be too much. Proud but terrified, I’d drift off to sleep nights, hoping I wouldn’t die before I woke.
Finally one spring morning, April 16, 1986, standing in my mama’s room, I begged. “Can I please get saved?”
Mama looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded. “I need to.”
She brought me into the living room. My pride had finally crumpled.
Kneeling in that now-holy spot next to the coffee table, I begged Jesus to wash my mean, ugly little heart with his perfect, sinless blood and make me acceptable for heaven.
Never again did I go to sleep afraid of slipping into eternal flames.
Let the redeemed of the Lord say so,
whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy…
Have you been redeemed from the hand of the enemy? Tell someone about it! Easter’s a great time to remember the day you believed in Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection.
PS – And if you’ve never tasted and seen that the LORD is good, well, lemme tell you…HE IS. Open your heart like the front door of your house and welcome Him in. He’s a Gentleman and won’t force His way in, but “blessed is the man that trusts in Him!”