How I Came to Christ
Twenty-nine years ago, I was a newly minted wife and mother. I had a toddler daughter and a son in my womb, ready to be born within days. I should have been happy – fulfilled – but I knew deep down that something was missing.
It wasn’t something, though. I had tried all the things that I thought should fill this nagging, aching void. I had tried to fulfill myself through education, marriage, family, even a false religion that elevated me to goddess status. I had taken a lot of wrong turns before marriage. Done things and said things that I was not ( and am not) proud of.
As I lay on the couch, with my belly swollen like a ripe watermelon, I decided to turn on the television. I lazily channel surfed, again looking for that ‘something.’
It was when I heard the beautiful southern accent of Reverend Billy Graham that I paused my channel surfing… and just listened.
You see, dear reader, I was born and raised in the northern United States. But because of my parents’ divorce, I spent six months living with my father in beautiful Charlottesville, Virginia, on seventy acres of wooded land on Buck Mountain.
(For readers who may be unfamiliar with American geography, Virginia is located in the southern United States.)
I was nine years old at the time, and I grew accustomed to playing outdoors and getting filthy dirty. I still have a tiny scar on the middle of my back from where I tried to sneak through a barbed wire fence that kept our cows in place. I let go too soon and paid the price. It was great fun to be a child with seventy acres of land to explore. I watched a beaver build a dam in Buck Mountain stream, which later had to be demolished by the people who relied on the stream to water their crops. I was allowed to sleep under the stars in an outdoor hammock. I frequently woke up to find deer grazing on our property. We grew a lot of our food in our garden, and I ate corn on the cob to the point that I swore off of it for life. Don’t worry – I did eventually return to it.
My father told me tall tales as he walked with me along the property. An old Volkswagen Beetle sat abandoned in the woods, and all the local kids used it for target practice. My father told me it was Bonnie and Clyde’s getaway car. Yes, I believed him. The internet wasn’t available then, so I couldn’t just fact-check him on the spot.
My father pointed out a tree on our property that had a heart carved into it with the initials “G.W” + “M.W.” inside it. It was so romantic to my nine-year-old self. But this heart took on legendary proportions when my father told me that George Washington himself (the first president of the United States) had carved it for his dear wife, Martha.
What can I say? I was nine, and it seemed plausible. George Washington’s ancestral home, Mount Vernon, was only two hours away from Charlottesville. It seemed possible that old George had maybe ridden horseback on our property with Martha, stopping for a romantic picnic.
Upon my arrival home, my step-sister took great delight in telling me what an idiot I was for falling for all these outlandish stories. As it turned out, my father had purchased our parcel of land from a couple named Gary and Martha Wilson. G.W. loves M.W……
I tell you all this to share that living in the South gave me many happy memories, and I pay closer attention to a Southern accent. It’s not heard frequently in the New England region where I live. I think God used my time in Virginia to prepare me for the moment I would hear Rev. Graham’s familiar accent.
I listened to Rev. Graham tell the story of the prodigal son in the bible. A story of a father’s love for his son. A son who had treated his father badly. A son that tried all the ‘somethings’ of life and had been left feeling wanting and empty. A son who felt that nagging, aching void and realized he just wanted to go home to his father, who loved him. Rev. Graham painted the picture that Jesus had painted when he first told that story 2,000 years ago. A story of how my heavenly Father loved me so much and was the only answer to what I had been seeking.
I didn’t need something. I needed someone. I needed Jesus Christ in my life.
I was a sinner, separated from God, and Jesus had laid down His life for mine so that I could spend eternity in heaven. Rev. Graham said, “There may never be a moment like this again, so don’t walk away. Take it.”
I was flooded with the love of the Holy Spirit, and I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior at that moment. Tears streamed down my face as I said I was sorry to the loving Father that I had rejected for years. I was cleansed from my sin, bought with the price of His blood. My life has never been the same since. No, I do not live in a happy bubble where nothing bad happens. Quite the contrary! I have many challenges, just like you. Only I no longer face them without Him.
If you have been searching for answers and want to know more about Jesus, I am adding a link in this blog post to help you get started. As always, this blog is not monetized. I share this only to help you learn more about deciding for Christ. I sincerely hope you choose to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior. He LOVES you.
