OK, so on my last post, I mentioned being dragged down to the alter by my dad. This was the little baptist church we attended until I was 5. So here's how the story goes...
I was in my Sunday School class one Sunday when my teacher said to us as we left, "Don't forget to get saved!" I look back on that and think what an interesting comment. Obviously, the details of what she said could be fuzzy at this point. Anyway, I went home, ate lunch, and played in the front yard. I for some reason remembered what my teacher said. So I literally knelt down under a tree in my front yard and said to God. "Please save me, Amen." Profound, right?
We moved a few months later to another small town in Indiana. My mom mentioned something to me about church and God and getting saved. I responded with "Oh, I did that a long time ago!" Like, Mom you are so a day late and dollar short! I've got that wrapped up!
My dad came home later that evening (who was the spiritual giant in our family). He sat me down on the couch and had a nice long talk with me about what I had done with God and made sure I understood everything. It seemed that the issue had passed. Then Sunday came....
There I was minding my own business, drawing on papers from Sunday school while the preacher went on and on, when my dad pulled me by the arm and walked me up to the front of the church! I think I could have shit my pants if it wouldn't have been such an abomination! Once in front of everyone, my dad explained the decision I had made in asking Jesus into my heart. I remember shaking my head in reference to some questions.
The lesson I learned that day was this..."Never, ever, no matter what, sit next to Dad during church! EVER!"
Actually, to this day, I'm very close to my parents and have a great appreciation for their spiritual upbringing in our home.