So, last night during the renewal service, the preacher asked about our earliest memory of God. You know, how where you introduced to the Christian life. Stuff like that.
A lot of nice stories.
I have two, and not sure the temporal distance which separates the two.
The first one had me coming home from a weekend at the parental side of my DNA to my mother and step-father. I remember telling that they were going Hell drinking a beer. Good stuff, right?
My second one involved a bus driver and vacation Bible school. I really don’t know the church but I do know it was just me and my sister who went. One day as I was getting off the bus, the bus driver handed me a little red New Testament. I don’t remember everything he said I can still see the smile and hear the emotion in his voice.
I would prefer to remember the second memory but both make up who I am. Indeed, I think that remembering the first memory is something that will make me a better person in the future.