Ginny’s Story Part 8 Jesus Loves Me Or Not….

A  little country church near our home played a very important part in my live. It was a refuge from the cruel world around me. There I was loved and accepted by everyone who attended. I went to church every chance I could,  Sunday  school and church services on Sunday, G.A.’s on Monday, Wednesday worship services, and my  favorite Vacation Bible School in the summer.

Our church hosted a revival every year. That was seven nights of dynamic fire and brim stone preaching. One minute the evangelist is preaching about a kind, loving, forgiving God, then he’s on a tangent on how you’re going to hell for all the sins you are committing. It looked like to me after asking God to forgive your sins, and giving all the money you could possibly give, you were saved from damnation. I had never seen so much money the congregation pulled out of their pockets. Daddy gave me a few pennies each night  for offering. I always wondered how much God loved me compared to the folks who gave the big bucks.

The year I was twelve I didn’t miss a night of the revival. Every evening groups of people would go forward to be saved.  They would sit on the front pew as the preacher knelled in front of them praying for their salvation. I wanted to be a saved too. The thought of burning in hell certainly put the fear of God in me. On the last night of the revival, I just knew I was ready. I slowly stood up and walked to the front of the church. I was so nervous, what if that wasn’t what God wanted me to do.  I went anyway. The preacher knelled in front of me and started to pray. He said I would be baptized in a few weeks with all the others that accepted Christ as their Savior.

I waited and waited for that special day. The Sunday finally arrived. I was so excited. They called everyone up that was going to be baptized. Everyone that is, but me. I asked the   preacher why I wasn’t called forward. He said I would be baptized later, in a few weeks. I waited and waited and later never came.

It wasn’t long after that I lost interest in going to church. For years I denied Christ. It was thirty years before I accepted him back into my life. I do believe the early teachings in that small county church was always with me. In my heart I knew the truth; Jesus really does love me, just the way I am.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. tsonoda148
    Jun 05, 2011 @ 01:14:05

    My Aunt (us kids called her MawMaw) was a preacher and had a little country church in the Tennessee hills. It was exactly as you described your little church. I spent many Sundays there whenever I was staying with my MawMaw….she made me go. I probably needed it though cause I was a little brat.


  2. Robin Craig
    Jun 05, 2011 @ 01:47:37

    Oh what memories this story has brought back. This left me teary eyed. Cause our family built the church. And Maw Maw is the center of the family but unfortunately she is the oldest of nine children and the only one living. I love the way you ended this cause its so true Jesus made us and he knows us and really does loves just the way we are. Thank you for bringing back such as sweet forgotten memory.


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