A series of yesses
I was only four at the time. And I said yes. Yes, I believed in Jesus and needed Him to forgive me of my sins. Whatever "asking Jesus into your heart" means to a four year old, I wanted to. Though I was only four, I understood that I had a choice and I made the choice. For the whole year that followed, I said yes to him each night. Afraid that Jesus might leave in the night, I asked him again, and again, and again. She discovered me one night, kneeling by my bed, praying aloud. Mom quickly assured me that Jesus was with me forever and I never needed to fear again that He would leave. Mom would continue to be that voice through the years, reminding me that the Lord was still here. Faithful. Present. Close to me. Those early memories came to me again the other day. Funny how they do. My youngest son asked me a question, one of those innocent questions that are so perfect. One of those questions that sit funny in the heart. That reminds me of the little questions that remain...