That Feeling

Dear me for you,

Don’t forget that feeling. The moment of your first time when you knew God was asking you to do something more than what’s self-satisfying in your life. For me, it happened one day out of the blue after years of Sunday hymns, Sunday school, and Wednesday night church. God’s word and promises did not return void; He had been right there guiding me all along. I was saved at seven years old and truthfully, that’s a miracle all in itself.

The thought of being saved at seven years old testifies wildly to this day for me. The fact that the gospel in which so many adults struggle to understand, was so simply understood by a seven-year-old from hearing the word of God. I was an everyday kind of girl from a small town, playing in the mud, watching cartoons, and reenacting life while playing Barbies. I can see it as if it were yesterday, the extended feeling of the evening, and looking at the sunset in awe of the changing colors of the day turned evening.  The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orangey-pink sorbet tinge to the sky. The last bit of sun kissing my little, apple-faced, muddy cheeks just before the last call to come inside. I remember my mom hollering for me to come in and take a bath (time to clean up from a day of play). I always had an overactive imagination. My thoughts were so colorful, and everything I saw from shampoo bottles to brooms all had a story that I could not wait to act it out with them in hand. On this particular day, it was bubble bath day, one of many favorite days in my house as a kid. Just as soon as the bathtub filled up, I jumped in ready to bring to life another story from the Mr. Bubbles Bubble Bath bottle.  Remember this bottle?

 I began to swish and splash the bubble bath water, and then my sister jumped in to make a bigger splash. She said the usual phrase to a younger sibling, “move over”, probably with a nudge. She was three years older than me. I adored her, but to the point of what my sister would call annoying. She loved me but I wanted to be just like her; I borrowed all her stuff and played with her hairbrush and spray bottles of water. I was usually found spilling it. This bottle just called me; the bottle of Gel was made for the Olympics, as most 18 oz bottles seemed to be just the right height to tumble and land a score of 10 out of 10. They were all Olympians in gymnastics, right? Being the annoying little sister, I only scooted over just enough for elbows and no room for the knees in the bathtub. She always had to elbow me to move over more for her in the tub. Today was different from any other bath time. As my mom walked in and grabbed a towel just before she kneeled at the bathtub, she folded the towel a few more times and placed it under her knees. She leaned over the wet, bubble-smeared side of the tub and said she wanted to read something very important to my sister. I leaned in to hear, copying my sister. If she was going to listen then so was I. Mom opened a tiny little booklet. It was a rectangle, about the size of half an index card with two big staples holding a dozen or so pages together. It was matte black and had comic book-like characters like the Sunday paper. As I listened to my mom read page by page, I grabbed the Mr. Bubbles bottle and started to play. I made the bubbles fly in the air each time I sank the bottle quickly under the water and popped it out like a submarine. Making the tiniest bubbles airborne and in just the right light, they twinkled with color. Just then my mom with a soft sweet voice said “what do you think?”. I popped my hand up to ask for a turn to answer the question, and without being asked I gave way to my response, “I trust Jesus, and I want to go to heaven”. My sister with the gentlest voice said “me too”, and my mom said the last page in this booklet has a prayer; repeat it after me…. This was my miracle amidst the bubbles and adventures of submarines. The Lord opened my eyes, opened my heart, opened my mouth as I confessed myself as a sinner, asked Jesus to come into my heart, and save me. Together as if we had practiced, my sister and I said “Amen”. Joy overfilled our hearts as we leaped into our mom’s arms. That day God showed His gospel to me and my sister in the way of loving forgiveness, and forever faith (eternal security).

I encourage you to “Be the miracle you want to see in the world”. God’s word never comes back void, just like the author of the Chick Tracts and my mom; they both desired to see people saved.

So they shared the word of God, one in illustration and the other in the story just as it was written and read to us, God’s word does what it will.

Go out and share the gospel; read in Isaiah 55:11 “So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it”.

Take a look at Jack Chick author of Chick Tracts. Who knew a comic strip would save a life or two? What will you do with your gifts and talents to share the love and Joy of Jesus?