I'm a deacon in our church, and being a deacon I am part of the Council. One of our duties is, when someone wants to go before the church and profess their faith in Jesus, they come before the council first.
Tonight was one of those times, and a blessed time at that.
Tom was born and raised in this church. He was baptized here, got all his instruction here, sang the songs, heard the sermons-was presented with the Gospel. But his heart rebelled. He didn't want to listen to God, wanted to do his own thing. He spent most of his sixty-five years partying and living loud in an attempt to drown out God's voice.
It didn't work. God wouldn't be drowned out. A few years back, he moved closer to his dad so he could look out for him. Every Sunday he would bring his dad to church. Every Sunday someone would shake his hand and tell him how glad they were to see him there. He heard the sermons, sang the songs and was once again presented with the Gospel. His dad went home to Heaven and he still came to church every Sunday. I got the feeling he was warming himself by our fire.
A few weeks ago, as he passed by the Pastor, he stopped him and told him he wanted to go through classes to make profession of faith. He said the words just came out unbidden. Tom sat at the meeting tonight at peace because he finally stopped running and accepted Jesus, accepted the love and forgiveness God had been offering him for sixty-five years.
We all cried. The angels are rejoicing. His parents are doing a happy-dance in heaven. I drove home with tears rolling down my cheeks because I got to see the most exciting thing a Christian can see-someone's name being written in the Lamb's Book of Life.