God reminded me recently of a time in my childhood when I was overwhelmed by the fear of death. I saw myself, a little girl in the middle of the night, huddled up on the stairs leading to my parents’ bedroom, not wanting to wake them, but so terrified of dying that I could not sleep. Raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, I had learned in that religion that unless you were one of the 144,000 special ones, when you died, you just ceased to be. My ten year old brain could not handle that concept, of just ceasing to exist. I used to implore God to let me live on: “Just put me on a cloud somewhere looking down on at the living ones”, I would pray. “Just don’t erase me from being.” I was plagued with fear, especially in the quiet, nighttime hours.
A few years later, my parents were going through divorce. Then 13 years old, that precarious age of finding out who you are, I was devastated by the months of uncertainty, losing the presence of a father in my home, and watching my mother struggle to provide for us in her pain. One night as I cried uncontrollably, I looked out into the night sky and prayed, “God, if there is a God, help me.”
Not long after my faithless prayer to a God who might or might not be real, Mom’s financial need lead her to answer an ad for a babysitting job in the church nursery at a local Baptist church. The church family reached out to us. They invited our family to church while Mom was babysitting, and brought us kids into their youth group. My brother, Dave, sister, Roberta and I attended a youth group outing to see the Billy Graham move, “The Restless Ones”. When an invitation was given to receive Jesus as Savior, we all three went to the rear of the theatre and invited Jesus into our hearts. It was May 9, 1966 .
A full year later, I celebrated my first Easter as a child of God. My family and I got up super early and went to the sunrise service to rejoice first thing in the morning over the amazing hope we have because Jesus rose from the dead and conquered death. That hope was very personal to me. I knew that Christ’s resurrection from the dead was not just a historical event, for I discovered that first Easter that something was also resurrected in me. I realized that at some point during my first year as a Christian, my fear of death had disappeared! There was no more fear of “ceasing to exist”. I knew that my Jesus had conquered death, and I would now live forever in the safety of the Father’s arms.
Two dear friends, John and Cathy Hicks used to sing a song that made me want to jump out of my seat, wave my hands and shout, “I DO!”
Anyone here wanna live forever, say “I do”.
Anyone here wanna walk on golden streets, say “I do”.
Anyone here sick and tired of living like you do?
Anyone here want a home with love forever?
Say “I do”.
I DO!
