When I was eight or nine years old, I came face to face with the reality of death. Our neighbor, Mr. Simmons, passed away. I was afraid and so many questions ran through my mind.
Where did Mr. Simmons go? Is there a heaven and hell? If so, who goes there? How do we know?
Up to this time we had not been going to church regularly. I began to ask Mother these questions. She assured me that there is a hell and heaven but did not explain further. I learned later that Mother had come to Christ in her teen years and that Dad had made a profession earlier but did not currently evidence salvation.
About this time Mrs. Simmons invited Mother to Pleasant Valley Baptist Church nearby. Mother took all of us children along. Dad always had an excuse not to go. He worked very hard to provide for us, but he made no difference between Sunday and the other days of the week. Sunday was his only day for rest and playing horseshoes with his friends.
In Sunday School at Pleasant Valley, I learned about hell and I became more afraid. A little later, when I was around nine years old, our Pastor, Preacher Broom, held revival meetings for two weeks, preaching the gospel morning and evening. I wept at each service, knowing I would go to hell if I died. I wept not only over my sins but because of the love of God in Christ.
On Friday night of the second week, Harry Simmons and I looked at each other as the invitation song was sung. I said to him, "I'll go if you will." We both went forward, knelt at the front and confessed Christ openly.
My siblings were already believers, so now we concentrated our prayers on Dad. I began meeting for prayer with men outside the church [building] under a grove of trees for the remaining nights of the meetings. They prayed especially for the lost, including my dad.
On the final evening of the revival, Dad found an excuse to check on a customer in Lafayette, Georgia, about an hour north of us. We were all disappointed and went to church with heavy hearts. Dad got about halfway to Lafayette, but was under such deep conviction that he turned around and came back to church.
When the invitation hymn began, Dad immediately went forward and yielded to Christ for salvation. How we rejoiced! Our family was complete in Him.
Conversion involves change, and my conversion brought change in my life in some simple but meaningful ways. For example, a lot of us boys shot marbles for keeps, meaning whoever won the round kept the marbles. I had won buckets full of marbles.
After I was saved, I continued playing until another boy stopped by and said, "I thought you were a Christian." I admitted I was. Then he sarcastically remarked, "I thought Christians didn't gamble." For the first time, I sensed that I was wrong to play. At first, I wanted to respond with anger or even to hit the guy, but I realized he was right.
Little by little the Lord was faithful to point out my sins. I never gambled again. Oh, that all my sins were so easy to shed!
CAH
