My Story is His Story

As I mentioned in my first post, my mom didn't believe that you can choose another person's faith for them. She allowed me to choose for myself. I chose Jesus at a young age, but I was never baptized. At my church, I only ever saw babies get baptized. I didn't really understand what baptism was, although I'm sure I had it explained to me, so I just thought it was something for babies. I was embarrassed by the idea of getting baptized at an older age. As I went through my life and my various levels of involvement with church and Jesus, it crossed my mind many times about whether to get baptized. I felt like Jesus loved me whether I was baptized or not, and I didn't understand how baptism would make a difference to my faith. I didn't understand that God made a commitment to us, but baptism is our commitment to Him. I didn't understand the concept of dying to sin and allowing our sins to be washed away. I saw baptism as a symbolic gesture that had no real i...

Every story has a beginning, so it seems that's where I should start. My story begins at the beginning of my life. Though my mother was a believer, she didn't have me baptized because she felt that it needed to be a personal choice. You come to Jesus because you choose to, not because someone chooses for you. My parents didn't go to church when I was very young. The first time I went to church/Sunday School, was when I was about 4 years old. The neighbors invited me. I don't remember too much about it, except that I was dressed all out in my Sunday best, and I remember coming home having loved it. After my parents divorced, we moved to Michigan to be near my mother's family, and there I went to Sunday School and church every Sunday in a small church that my grandfather had built on his own land (which he donated to the church). Between my house (which was also on my grandfather's land) and the church lay my uncle's house (also on grandpa's land) ...