That “we” meant “me”!

I was saved on Sunday, February 28, 1993, around 10 pm. I was 17 years old, a senior in high school, and very close to missing God’s free gift of salvation.

Both of my parents were born again, as were my grandparents. Although I always wanted to be saved, I never put it first in my life.

I feared the Lord. Throughout school, when an opportunity came up to do something I had been taught was wrong, most of the time I just couldn’t do it. True, I was a bit afraid of my father’s punishment, but more than that, I feared God’s righteous wrath – for I knew, that as someone who knew about salvation and had spurned it, I would suffer much more for the sins I committed.

In January of 1993, as a senior in high school, after two weeks of attending a gospel series, one of the speakers came out to Dad’s office on a Saturday, with the excuse of some work he had to do there. I couldn’t leave because this was my Saturday job – I stuffed envelopes. So there we both sat – me wondering when he would say something about God, and him “working” away. Finally, he came over to my desk and spoke to me. I was rude, and looked steadfastly at the time clock. I don’t remember much of what he said. I was going out with school friends that night and didn’t want to think about these things.

That was the worst night of my life. Sitting through that movie was agony – not necessarily by thoughts, but this horrendous, indescribable feeling in the pit of my stomach. That night, I could barely sleep, and woke up consistently thru the night in cold sweats.

The next morning, I decided that I need to settle this – God was speaking to me, and I wanted to be saved, not reject Him. I was bound and determined to DO whatever it took.

That was my problem. I had to DO it. I just couldn’t accept the gift that God had offered freely, but had to work it out. For two weeks, I tried everything – But I couldn’t get it! I remember family and friends all telling me to just give up! Give up? I didn’t want to miss this!

Sunday morning, February 28, 1993, I sat back during the worship meeting and wanted more than anything to be a part of it. After reading (more!), that night, I gave up. Sort of. A friend of mine had gotten saved earlier in the week by going through a commentary with her father. I went out to Dad’s bookshelf and looked for the Bible commentary. I couldn’t find it, so I took the Phillips commentary on Romans back to my room. I remember getting on my knees and praying something like “Lord, I’ll try reading out of this commentary, and If I don’t see anything, then I’ll go to bed. If I die tonight, or the Lord returns, I will go to Hell. But I’ll try again tomorrow if I’m still able.” I think this was the first time I faced the fact that I would be in Hell, and truly believed that that was possible. Before, I always assumed I would be saved. This time I didn’t.

I turned to Romans Chapter 5 in the commentary, as that was the only chapter I could remember that had the “gospel” verses in it. I began to read. And it all made sense. However, when I came to verse 10, I didn’t understand the sentence. As any good English student, I rearranged the sentence structure. I then read “Through Christ giving his life for us, we are saved.” And yes, that “We” meant “me”! For the first time, the Lord showed me that His life was given that I might be saved for eternity. It was already done! Amen!



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