It was a sunny afternoon in the city of Cincinnati. In a small, homely church I watched from across the table as the little girl of probably about 7 or 8 attempted to incorporate color into the plain white picture of Jesus that lay in front of her. Out of the blue I was confronted with a question...
"If I tell a lie will I go down there?" she asked pointing down.
" If you don't have Jesus in your heart you will." I said.
"Jesus come into my heart. Jesus come into my heart. Did he come in?"
"You have to mean it." I said. "We can pray if you want."
And so she repeated after me.
Dear Jesus
Dear Jesus
Forgive me of my sins.
Forgive me of my sins.
Come into my heart.
Come into my heart.
Thank you for dying for me.
I'll obey you.
I'll obey you.
Amen.
Amen.
"Did He come in?"
"Yes, if you meant it."
"He's in my heart?" she asked pointing to her heart.
"Yes."
"Can Jesus hear me breathing?"
"Well He didn't come into your literal heart. It means he came into your life."
"Can Jesus hear me breathing?"
"Yes."
"Can Jesus hear you breathing?"
"Yes. He hears everything."
When one of the other workers came over she told them...
"Jesus is in my heart."
"Did you ask Jesus into your heart and ask him to forgive you of your sins?" asked the worker.
"Yes"
As I carried her down the steps a while later... she looked up and said...
"I love you Jesus."
3 comments:
Christy, this was a beautiful, beautiful post! And I didn't know you had a blog until this evening. Glad I do now, though! :)
Love you, My Alaskan sis.
nice to see you have a blog.
your last post....THAT is what it's all about.
ts'beautiful.
I had a kid ask "If I have Jesus in my heart, and someone punches me, does he get hurt?"
Post a Comment