I grew up in a loving home and I am truly blessed to have never doubted the love and support of my parents.  I had an understanding of great human love, modeled before me daily.  I don’t remember ever not having some sort of concept and knowledge of God.  I knew that God existed and that he loved me but other than attending church regularly and praying before dinner, I don’t remember a lot of talk about Jesus.  My parents continually encouraged me toward good, strong morals and values but to me, being “good” seemed to be enough.

One of the first times I remember making a decision for Christ was in junior high after spending a week at a Christian camp, which I did dozens of times, summer after summer.  We were gathered around a late night campfire and someone told me Jesus had died for my sins and it was possible for me to have a relationship with him.  At the time, I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew that this was something I wanted.  Something was missing in my life and I thought this could be it.  That night, a counselor at that camp walked me through the decision to follow Christ. Continue Reading…