It was December 2005. My parents came for a Christmas visit and wanted to visit a church. They had become believers two months prior. I hadn’t yet made the decision to surrender my life to a guy named Jesus I barely knew anything about. I was, however, willing to go to church.
photo credit: whfc
As far as I was concerned, I was a Christian. I didn’t need a church to confirm that. Being a Christian meant saying your prayers every night, saying sorry to God when you had a hangover the next day, and praying fervently when a loved one was dying.
I wore a cross necklace everyday, so that meant I was a Christian, too.
We walked into this giant purple castle inside of a theme park. There was loud music playing, kids running around, and people smiling. It seemed cool so far. Then my life was changed forever.
I’m featured over at Prodigal Magazine today.
