When I was 2, I remember I lived across the road from my best friend EVER, Brenda.
I think that was her name.
When I was 3, I met Angie Huseby and Leah Lottman. They were super awesome friends. I was enamoured with them. I’m not sure where they are now.
When I was 4, I knelt on our piano bench with my head all the way down and prayed in my heart, “Dear Jesus, I don’t want to go to Hell. Please come into my heart. Amen.”
I looked up.
My mom was in the kitchen, and I said, “Guess what, Mom! I’m a Christian!”
I was so proud of myself. I was so thrilled with my membership into Heaven. I told anyone who would listen.
Up until that point, I wasn’t a bad kid. There really isn’t too much that a 4 year old can do that’s particularly naughty, but it didn’t matter. If Jesus wasn’t in my heart, I wasn’t going to Heaven.
And being in Heaven sounded a WHOLE lot better than going to Hell.
So I asked Jesus into my heart.
Simple as can be and that made all the difference.