I was somewhere around the age of 5 or 6. The sermon had been preached, the altar call was given, and my mom did what she did every service. She went to the altar with me in tow. She knelt down, and told me to sit beside her. I was not required to pray and I knew that. I simply had to sit quietly and not cause a distraction for others while she prayed. I had been to the altar with my mom a couple times a week my entire life. But this Sunday, something was different. This Sunday, I decided to talk to Jesus. And 30 years later, I still remember that sweet, gentle feeling that filled my young heart and my awe at realizing that the God of the adults had let me feel Him too. I don’t know that my mom ever realized I had been crying when she got up from praying that day, or that her steadfast dedication in going to the altar every service had just paid huge dividends…but that was the day I decided I wanted to know Jesus for myself.
Dear Saint: Please come to the altar at the end of service. You never know when the 5-year-old who has played with her dolls the entire service is waiting to talk to Jesus today. If you don’t go, she won’t go.
