It was a hot July day in Alabama in 1966 and my mother made me wear a shirt I hated. It was one of those shirts that was square bottomed with buttons for adjustment on the two sides. We were headed to our church just up the road, the little caravan was my Mama, my brother Steve, and me.
Summer revival meetings were in full swing with morning and night services. Our country church building was larger than usual. It was built with concrete blocks covered with plaster. It had a tall ceiling. There was no air conditioning at church or home so sweat was the normal life of a Southerner.
My Daddy was at work. Mother never learned to drive, so we walked the short distance to church. I was miserable. The short walk was not my problem, the July heat was just life, the awful shirt was only a secondary torment, because I had been wrestling with God. In our church jargon, we called it conviction. I was under conviction of sin.
Continue reading “Life-Changing Decision: My Salvation Experience at Eleven”
