Most Important Day Of My Life…

1-26pm

You have absolutely no say in the decision of being born into this world. You arrive, wriggling, kicking and hopefully screaming at the top of your lungs. You can’t request a ‘do-over’; you can’t ask to be sent back. You have arrived and once you’re here, you’ve just got to go with the flow and, as you grow up, you have to try figure out how best to live your life. My journey has included discovering God and His amazing plan for my life. It didn’t happen overnight though.

Early Seeds

I think the first seeds of understanding that there is a God who cares for me were planted when I was a young child and my parents took me to church. I also remember being 10 or 11 and going to a youth group on a Friday evening. There the  gospel was shared and I heard it. I didn’t do anything about it, but it was a seed. When I went to high school, I went to the Scripture Union class. There, Mr. Revell, an outspoken declarer of the gospel, proclaimed it. I don’t remember what he said, but I do remember that there were people who were “in” and there were people who were “out” of the gospel circle. I was out. That’s the only strange recollection I have of that meeting – it was another seed. I remember being about 12 or 13, when a friend of my Dad’s arrived at the back door of our house. It’s a clear moment in time that I recall. The lady, standing outside the house; me standing inside the kitchen, with my hand on the door, telling her my Dad was not home and feeling like I wanted her to go away. By now, my Mom had moved out and my Dad was quite set in his eccentric ways. He had drummed religion  firmly into me and I, to be honest, was so over it! He had some (in my mind) strange friends and this lady was one of them. She asked me if I was a Christian. I wanted her to leave, so I mumbled something that I thought was appropriate and ended the conversation. It was another seed.  I never forgot her concern for me.

It was soon after that that I changed schools. My Dad was very concerned for my welfare. With him working shifts, it meant that I was regularly home alone for long hours, including overnight. Despite Dad’s dabbling in numerous off-beat religious groups, he, amidst them all,  had come to faith in Jesus and he was praying for his 4 children. He met the local Baptist pastor of our new neighbourhood and told him a little of his story. It led to a conversation about me and my Dad’s shift work. The pastor said he would phone me and invite me to his church’s youth group that Friday evening.

The Call

He was true to his word and early in the afternoon I received a phone call, inviting me to a braai that evening. I knew no one there,  and absolutely DID NOT want to go. I tried to find excuses. I had no meat. I had no transport. He said he would supply meat and pick me up. Eventually, I gave up and agreed to go. I went. I enjoyed it and soon I was going every week. I found acceptance and friendship there. It was refreshing, because, to be honest, I was struggling to settle into my new school and was feeling insecure and rejected! There were people at the youth group who were at my new school and I was beginning to make friends.  (Friends who became very special and with whom I’m still in contact today include Graham and Jenny Priestner. Jenny was then a Davey and I was at school with Judy Davey, her sister. I don’t think Jenny will ever fully know how much God used her to make me feel more secure!)

The Challenge

One Friday evening, we were divided into groups of 5. Each group had a designated leader who had been assigned to ask us a very important question. The leader of my group was 17 year old Dave Rudolf. He asked each person individually, starting with someone else, so I got to hear the question and their answers before I had to give my own. Eventually, he came to be and he said, “And you Helga, what about you? Are you ready to die?” By now, I’d had several minutes to plan my answer. It couldn’t role off my tongue in honesty because I didn’t have the ‘right’ answer. The right answer was that I was ready to die because I had ‘invited Jesus into my heart’. This was the strange sentence  bandied about on a regular basis. I would hear that to be “saved” you had to “invite Jesus into your heart”.  Somehow Christianity and acceptance into the “in” circle involved this “inviting Jesus into your heart.” If you had, you were ready to die. If you hadn’t, you weren’t. I hadn’t. I wasn’t. Faced with Dave’s direct question, I half avoided eye contact and said, “yes.” He looked at me, almost questioningly, and then nodded quietly saying, ‘that’s good!’

Whew! Got away with that one!

Or had I?

As I left the youth meeting that evening, my poor answer gnawed away at me. I felt so guilty. I wrestled with the problem the whole weekend. The truth was, I had lied. I knew I wasn’t a Christian and actually, if I did die right then, I would go to a Christ-less eternity. That was the bottom line. The only person I was really fooling was myself. I knew I had to do something. I thought about calling Dave and telling him the truth. That would have taken a LOT of pride. I thought about just sweeping the whole thing under the carpet, suppressing any guilt and just getting on with my life, but that wouldn’t make me feel better in the long term. No, the only right thing to do was to make my answer right. To ask Jesus into my heart.

The Glory of the Gospel

The glory of the Gospel lies in its simplicity. God has not called us to climb mountains to get saved. We just have to believe. It’s a step of faith. I encountered that glory on the evening of Tuesday 17th July 1979. In the quietness of my bedroom, on my own, I prayed. I asked Jesus into my heart and for Him to take over my life. That done, I knew then, that I was ready to die. That was it. That’s all I did. Yet life changed. God became my Anchor. The storms could buffet my world, but I was secure. Jesus was in my heart!

35 years ago today. It’s been an amazing 35 years. I’m grateful for them. I’ve traced God’s hand upon my life, seeing Him work in remarkable ways. I’ve witnessed His Holy Spirit move in an astonishing way moulding me into the person I am today. His faithfulness knows no bounds. Even in my darkest hour, He has left me with a lasting sense of His presence and acknowledgement that He is in control.

Isaiah 55:6

Seek the LORD while He may be found; call on Him while He is near.

It’s so worth it! So today, I celebrate. I rejoice. My heart sings. I am grateful. My cup is full.

God bless you!

In His Grip,

Helga xx 🙂

Gratitude Pic…thank you Jesus for 17th July 1979…😀