So there I was, eight years old, newly saved, totally clueless, walking home from the last day of VBS. And do you know what happened on the way home? I stepped in dog poo. In my new sandals. And my mom is really OCD about germs.
Now, I was merely annoyed. I was still excited to tell my mother what had happened to me. Instead, I got hustled hopping through the house to wash my foot and fumigate my shoe. I kept trying to share with her, but all I got was a running diatribe about rude neighbors and their evil dogs. By the time I was cleaned up and my mother's ruffled feathers settled, most of the wind was gone from my sails.
My parents did listen eventually to my story, but their reaction seemed to be more one of "Just humor her, she's a kid" than "Praise God!" In fact, I think they were rather puzzled. After all, I'd been baptized. Wasn't I already a Christian? What's all this "saved" stuff about? The whole concept seemed totally foreign to them.
I was baffled and let down, to say the very least. My VBS teachers had made such a fuss over me, made it out to be a Really Big Deal, what I'd done. A little nonplussed, I settled back into my "normal" life. Little did I know that my life was now on a collision course with the cosmic battle of the ages, the war for the souls of mankind.
You see, God is no respecter of persons. I made a conscious choice. I understood what I was saying (as much as a kid can). I prayed that simple prayer, and suddenly from that moment in time, I belonged to God - transaction complete. It has taken me a lifetime to understand that Satan is no respecter of persons either. God wasn't the only one who took me seriously, as I was shortly to learn....
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