Psalm 116:1  I love the Lord, for He heard my voice; He heard my cry for mercy.

My story Part 1: Although I was raised going to church, albeit a liberal one, I never developed faith to speak of.  The idea of being born again or meeting Jesus in a personal way was totally foreign to me. When I went to college, what little faith I might have had was lost due to atheistic instructors and discussions with unbelieving students who seemed intent on obliterating any ideas of faith.

I came from a good home.  I was close to my mom but my father and I argued when we were together and loved each other while apart.  In the fall of ’68, while a junior in college, I agreed to go to a Christian retreat with them.  It still amazes me that I went, but nothing was going on that weekend at college and it was important to them – so I went.  The retreat center was at an old time camp back in the woods overlooking a small lake in Michigan.

In the first large meeting, a man spoke about the love of Jesus in a way that I had never heard before.  In fact he talked as though he knew Him – personally!  I was somewhat saddened by it because I thought, “If Jesus were real, that’s what He would be like – but what good did it do me?”  I couldn’t believe – or so I thought.  After the meeting, all of the high school and college age went to a separate meeting room.  There were about fifteen of us sitting in a circle and I was easily the oldest.

The man came in and asked if there was anyone there who didn’t know Jesus as Lord.  I was too embarrassed to raise my hand.  He then asked if there was anyone with any doubt about it.  Something raged within me as I sat there and I struggled with whether or not to raise my hand.  In spite of thinking there was no hope for me, I lifted my hand.

I was then startled by one of the young men (age 15) who jumped up from his seat, pushed a chair into the center of the circle of students and enthusiastically said to me, “This is where you meet Jesus!”

To be continued tomorrow….