Growing up I thought the name of Jesus and God were just swear words. They meant nothing to me.
I knew the difference between right and wrong but at times I would disobey my parents, misbehave and do other things that I knew I should not do.
I assumed that because I went to church every Sunday that I was a Christian, and that because I was a ‘good’ girl that I was a Christian.
As time went by and life got more complicated, I noticed that my grandmother had something I didn’t have…Peace
Since I was blessed with Christian parents who took me to church and taught me the Bible, I came to understand that the void in my life was God.
I grew up in church. I don’t remember a time I didn’t believe the story of Jesus.
I knew that if I died before I woke, my soul was in trouble. It really bothered me.