A start

Revelations 3: 20 Behold I stand at the door and knock and if anyone hears my knock and opens the door, I will come in.

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I guess I should start with my own testimony.

In that little community called Gribble Springs, there were - at various times - schoolhouses. Locations varied with the community's growth or lack thereof. In the early 1960s, my mother's family owned the 1-acre plot where one of those schoolhouses once stood. They built a house on that land. My parents purchased this house and the 1-acre from my grandmother. That house was where I lived until I was in 3rd grade. That year, my uncle built my parents a new house right next door. My mother still lives in that 2nd house built during my 3rd-grade year.

Those 2 houses on 1-acre are a little over a mile from the "center" of the community of Gribble Springs. The "center" revolves around a church building, a cemetery, a table, a parsonage, a whole bunch of Post Oak trees, 1 or 2 pecan trees, and at least one bois d'arc tree. At various times, it has also revolved around a cobbled together softball field, a pretty decent outdoor volleyball court and a fabulous hill for playing Mother-May-I and Red-light-Green-light.

As the story goes, my first trip from the house to the church would have been June 28, 1964, about 13 days after I was born. By all accounts, I rarely missed a Sunday before my earliest memories. I know after my earliest memories, I did not miss many. Nor, did I miss Sunday Night services, nor GAs on Wednesday evenings! And, certainly never one of the monthly domino fellowships (a domino game called 42) or bi-weekly volleyball games!

On Sunday, May 23, 1971, I was sitting on the back row. I don't know why. That wasn't my normal place. But then, I didn't really have a "normal" place. That might be beside one of the 5-10 cousins who might be in attendance. Or beside one of my grandmothers. Or beside my own parents.

But, on that Sunday, I was sitting in the back row. I believe a man named Garland - and whose last name I'll reserve for privacy - was sitting on the end of the row. The reason I remember that will become apparent.

I don't recall what hymns were sung or the sermon. But when the song of invitation was offered at the end of the service, many young people walked down the aisle to accept Jesus into their heart. I wanted to accept Him also. So, I nudged Garland out of the way and walked down the aisle.

At the time, I don't believe I understood what "accepting Jesus" entailed. That didn't come until later that afternoon in the pastor's study when he used Revelations 3:20 to explain the transaction that was taking place. The thing happening inside my head during the sermon and the song of invitation was simpler than that. I understood that I had to make some kind of decision myself, something that wasn't my daddy's or my mother's (or grandmothers' or cousins') if I wanted to know Jesus.

And, so, I walked down the aisle. I think there were 5 or 6 young people who walked down the aisle that day, and 5 or 6 more the week before. I believe I recall that my cousin, Debbie, was one. I also recall that my daddy was the "church clerk" and it was his job to fill out cards for everyone who walked down the aisle. And, I recall the tears in his eyes when he was recording mine.