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Most of my childhood memories are pleasant.
I wasn't abused, my parents provided for all my needs, in fact, I have
to say, I was loved. I'm not saying my family wasn't dysfunctional, in
some respects all families have their moments, but we were as close to
functional as I've seen.
I went to school, had chores to do when I got home, worked or played
all day on Saturday and attended church every Sunday. Yes, my Mom even
baked cookies for us to eat when we got home. In short, I grew up in a
Norman Rockwell painting.
My father was the pastor and my mother was very active teaching and
working in the Women's ministries of the church. Like my brothers before
me, the time came when the constant contact with the gospel rubbed off
on me and I came to faith in Christ.
I was very young when it happened and I have to admit that my understanding
was, well, very childish. I thought of the forces of good and evil as opposite
teams, you know, like a pick-up baseball game. I asked myself whose team
did I want to be on? One where Satan was the team captain and demons were
his teammates. Or the one with the Creator God as the captain and the angels
as His teammates. I heard enough preaching to know which one was the winning
team, so I prayed that God would pick me to be on His team.
And He did.
With simple faith I prayed, and accepted Christ as my Savior and submitted
myself to His Lordship. Did I understand everything? No. In fact, I still
I'm sure glad that God doesn't require a child to understand like an
adult. But you know, He does require an adult to believe as a child.
"Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like
a child shall not enter it at all." Mark 10:15 NASB
Read "Listening Heart,"
the sermon that corresponds to this devotional.