How I Came to Jesus

When I was little, at the tender age of five, I went to Westlawn Baptist Church where my parents were members.  I didn't know that I was too young to face hell, and I became afraid.  So I told the pastor that I believed and wanted to be baptized.  In retrospect, I think this was a mistake made, not by me, but by my parents and the minister who performed the baptism.  I was too young to know what it meant and this is a good reason to NOT have small children in the "fire and brimstone" services but rather in a "children's church" instead.  My church at the time did not have this.

Fast-forward to my late teen-aged years when I joined the military.  There were places that I went and people that I met that I know I will never see again.  Experiences that can never be repeated.  Some things I look back on fondly.  Some things I don't like to remember but still do when the right (or wrong) smell hits me or sometimes when I lay in my bed at night staring up into the darkness with a hand tucked beneath my pillow.  It was at this time I partied hard or at least as hard as I was able.  I was married at nineteen and had my son in my very early twenties.  I don't recall ever taking him to church but I considered myself to be a Christian.  I believed I was "saved."  I believed at the time that I did not need to go to church to be saved and, to be honest, I was right.  What I didn't know was that if I would have truly been saved by the grace of God, I would have wanted to go.  I would have been aching to hear His word.  I wasn't.  I had a bible but for many years never opened it.  I didn't pray and only sometimes entered a church (sometimes) on religious occasions but, most of the time not even then.  If I would have died during that time frame I would have heard the phrase, "I never knew you."  Today I know I would hear Him welcome me.

I believed I was a good person.  By the standards of the world, I may have been.  I didn't harm others, I tried to help people when I could.  I was friendly and kind.  Like I said, I believed I was.  I wasn't, at least not by biblical standards.  I had stolen (it didn't matter what it was or how small).  I took what was not mine.  It could have been something as small as a pen from work taken by accident and not returned.  That is still stealing.  I had lied, therefore, I was a liar.  I had used God's name as a curse word, something I witness all to frequently now.  I had placed television, entertainment and money before God.  Practically the only commandment I had not committed was the one regarding murder and I thought I was living a good life.  I wasn't  I was headed to hell wearing gasoline underwear, as the saying goes.  I would still be going there were it not for my wife and the pastor of the church where I currently attend.

My wife had been asking me for years to go to church at a place where one of her friends goes.  After an argument one weekend, I reluctantly agreed.  I didn't want to go, but I went.  I felt ashamed as I went through the door, but the people there made me feel truly welcome and were very kind.  I listened to the message but wanted to get out of there.  I didn't want to return but my wife pushed for it and I figured it was easier to give her an hour a week to do something with her that she wanted rather than argue for a couple of hours and deal with the aftermath of that.  So, I went.

After a couple of Sundays, I started wanting to go.  I started noticing how people there treated each other and it was much kinder than I had ever been used to throughout my life.  I saw their concern for others both inside and outside of the church with their outreach programs to feed the hungry and visit the sick and infirm, you know, the people society forgets about if they are not all over the place and then, most of the time, they are not helped.  They are taken advantage of or they are moved from the area because of a conference or a sports team that is likely to bring cameras and visitors are coming to the area and the city is embarrassed. It also seemed as if I was being spoken to by the Word of God through the preacher at this church.

The day my birthday, April 4, 2024, I received a phone call from the pastor who, after speaking to him for a while, I decided to give my life to Christ and I never looked back.  Since then, only a few short months ago, I have felt happier.  I have felt more content.  My PTSD is easing.  I am becoming more focused on my family and starting to make some friends.  Due to PTSD for years from my military service and severe depression, any friends I had before I have lost touch with.  For that, I am grateful.  I no longer care if I am ridiculed and I will never hide my belief in Christ Jesus regardless of what the world wants.  Their criticisms fall like blessings upon me.  Remember: Matthew 5:11–13, “Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.  Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.”

So, make fun of me if you wish.  Talk down to me if you want.  You can try to silence me.  You can hate me.  ¹⁸ “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. ¹⁹ If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you."  John 15: 18-19.  I rejoice in the hatred and I pray for the ones that hate me whether they want me to or not.  

God bless you, dear reader.  Walk without fear.  God has your back, just like he has mine.

- Michael Pearson