The Night that Changed Everything

I was seven years old. The night before I had sat cross-legged on a large, oval, braided rug at my father’s feet next to my sisters in the family room of our little parsonage. My mom and dad sat side by side in their comfy chairs in front of our brick fireplace which didn’t get much use since we lived in sunny Simi Valley at the time. But tonight, the fireplace was on and the flames flickered a warm glow in the cool room and cast long shadows behind us during our family storytime.

Looking up and listening intently I was excited to hear my mom read from a Bible storybook called “It Didn’t Just Happen” by Ethel Barrett. Mom read with great expression as my sisters – five and three years old – sat with me and in between squirms we ‘ooh’ed’ and ‘ah’ed’ at the amazing details my mom told so well. All three of us were enchanted by the story of a man being let down through a roof and getting healed because of his faith.

I remember thinking how scary it would feel to be dangling helplessly on a mat from a rope swaying over a crowded room. But maybe this man had less of a fear of heights than me and more of a hope to be well, and so I shook off that feeling and listened to Mom again even as I wondered if I would ever have brave friends like that man did.

At the close of the story, my dad asked if I understood what had happened…how Jesus healed that man, how it was his faith that healed him, and how it wasn’t just that he could walk again but that Jesus forgave his sins – which apparently made some other guys really mad, but I didn’t understand that part yet. But, to the parts I did understand, I nodded with excitement. I loved Jesus so much. I loved the faith these friends of his had. I loved in a simple childlike way of loving and I knew in that same simple childlike way that I wanted to have faith like that too.

So, when my dad asked if I wanted Jesus to be with me and forgive me like He had forgiven that man, I nodded and whispered out an eager, “Yes!”

That night, with the fire still warming and flickering through the room I said “Yes” to Jesus. I prayed a simple prayer telling God that I knew I was sinful and that I wanted to give Him my heart so He’d forgive me and make me healed from my sins.

After my amen and hugs from Mom and Dad, I climbed up to the top bunk and crawled into bed. I tugged the blanket close up around my chin, nestled my head into my Snoopy pillow, and stared up at the glittery popcorn on the ceiling. I breathed slowly and deeply with my hand over my heart and wondered about what my heart was like now with Jesus in it. I imagined how perfect the next day would be now that I was a Christian and had Jesus in my heart.

Somewhere between deep sighs of joy and wonderings, between whispering “I love you” back to God I slipped away into sleep. The next morning I got up…eyes first…looking up at that same sparkle ceiling and thinking about how when I turned to step down the ladder I’d be stepping into a new day as a Christian with Jesus in my heart.

But, when I stepped down the ladder, I stepped onto a toy left out by my sister, hurt my foot, and squealed in mild pain and mostly annoyance at her. “Ouch!!” followed by something unkind. I scowled into the bathroom irritated and when I started brushing my teeth, I looked at my face in the mirror…still the same. I felt over my heart…still the same. I thought about my anger…still the same. Where was Jesus? What happened to my heart?

At some point, I talked to my mom and dad again about being a Christian and why I didn’t wake up perfectly nice and happy all the time. Why I still felt the ping of jealousy in my heart at times or why I felt short-tempered and…don’t forget disobedient- my mom added with a wink. Yes. All that.

Of course, my parents explained and I began to understand that becoming a Christian is both a thing that happens once and a thing that happens all the time. That we make a decision to have faith and that we make then daily decisions to be faithful.

When Paul says “sin will have no mastery over you” it’s because sin could, and I have to not just say “Yes” to Jesus so he’s “in my heart” but I must say “Yes” every day to Jesus so He’s on the throne of my heart. You see, my heart is like a big room. But unlike the family room where I first said yes to Jesus, there’s only one chair in there – and it’s no regular chair – it’s a throne with room for one. Flesh or Spirit. Law or Grace. Adam or Christ.

Since that day 47 years ago when I first opened the room of my heart to Jesus I’ve had to make a choice every day, every moment really if He will sit where He should be and I will let Him reign or if I will let sin reign in me instead.

That will always be the choice before me. Like God said to His people, “Today I set before you life and death – chose life.” I must choose life daily in my heart as well.

When did you say “Yes” to Jesus? What was that like for you? How old were you? Share your story – in a blog? On social media? Write it out. Do you have photos you can add to it? Add those. Drawings? Memories? Create a story around that moment and share it with one person…or more. Our stories are meant to be told. To encourage one another. Inspire. Help point up…back to our King. The ruler of our hearts. I hope you’ll share yours.