It was the summer of 1983 in beautiful Quito, Ecuador. I was a rising senior in high school. I had a good family, a good school, good friends. I lived in a pretty house in a pretty neighborhood. I was minding my own business going about my life, thinking of my future after high school. I was not sure what I wanted to pursue in college, so I opted for a leap year. I would leave town as a foreign exchange student for a year and then decide how to grow up. I was in no hurry. I didn’t feel the need to change.
And then out of nowhere my life was radically transformed. A group of missionaries had moved into a house two blocks away from mine. They went door to door evangelizing, and when they came to mine, they talked to my mom. She was not interested in their message and decided that in order to get them off their back, the best thing would be to send me to one of the meetings they were so eagerly inviting her to attend. I guess I was bored. Not really sure why I even went in the first place, but I did. The meeting took place on Saturday, August 9th. My initial thoughts about it: These people are ridiculous. Their songs are terrible. Why are they so excited? I think they are crazy! Why would I agree to return the following Monday to have a private conversation with one of the missionaries? Certainly there is no logical answer to that question.
On August 11th, 1983 I met a sweet missionary who greeted me warmly and led me to one of the rooms in the house. I had no idea why I was there. I didn’t know what she wanted to tell me. I felt compelled to comply, and that is all I knew. We sat in two adjacent chairs and shortly after some initial chit-chat, she pulled out a little track entitled “Four Spiritual Laws”. She read it out loud as she held it in front of me so I could read it alongside her.
- GOD LOVES YOU. Um, yes, I kinda knew that, I thought.
YOU ARE SINFUL AND SEPARATED FROM GOD. I saw a picture of a broken bridge. It all seemed pretty elementary. I guessed she was probably right. I knew deep inside I was a sinner, even though I couldn’t really list a whole list of bad sins. Noting major came to mind.
JESUS IS GOD’S PROVISION FOR YOU. Another picture. The bridge was now repaired by the cross. I was a little confused by it, but I was also encouraged by it. I had never thought I could “reach” God. He had always been far removed and disinterested.
YOU MUST RECEIVE JESUS AS LORD AND SAVIOR. Aha! There had to be a catch. I wasn’t completely sure what that meant, to receive Jesus. Maybe it wasn’t a catch. She proceeded to explain something about putting my faith in him and asking him to come into my heart and forgive me. Frankly, it was all too much for me to understand. The reading of the little pamphlet took about 5 minutes, not enough time for me to digest anything she was saying. I had never heard anything like it. It seemed a bit simplistic, a bit unrealistic. I wasn’t sure what I would get in return.
She read a few scriptures and then asked me if I would like to pray with her and ask Jesus to come into my heart. I nodded yes.
She verbalized a prayer and asked me to repeat after her. If I were to sit today and share the gospel with another person, I would never pray a pre-written prayer and ask this person to repeat after me. Not a chance. But that is exactly what I did. I repeated. The prayer started with Dear Jesus. Up until then, I had stayed rational and collected. And then a flood opened in my heart, my mind. I cannot describe it well, other than to say that it felt as if I went from being a hard stone to a soaking sponge, absorbing every drop, every word that came out of my mouth. Had someone turned on a switch? I said a quick prayer, but I meant every word. Somehow. My eyes were filled with tears. I didn’t want the prayer to end. I wanted to stay there.
After we said amen I felt very confused about my feelings and what I was experiencing. I had no clue what hit me. The missionary girl looked at me a bit surprised but with a big smile. I couldn’t stop crying, but I wasn’t sure why. She gave me a quick hug and told me to come back in a few days so we could talk some more. I think she gave me another little pamphlet for me to read at home, but I’m not exactly sure about that memory.
I returned the following week. I wanted more.
My new friend asked me if I wanted to study the Bible with her. I replied that I did not own one and that I didn’t think my parents would want to buy me one (truth is I never asked them; I just assumed that if they were not Christians, they would not want to do that). So she said that we should pray for one. Pray? I had never imagined that we could actually pray for something so specific. What a novel idea. Sure, why not? Despite my skepticism, I prayed along with her.
Two weeks later I was on my way to visit a friend in the neighborhood. There is nothing fuzzy about this memory; I remember it as if it were yesterday. A man was walking on the same sidewalk I was on, coming towards me. As we were crossing each other he asked me if I owned a bible. What? No, I said. Then he asked me if I wanted one. I swallowed hard. Y-yes. He handed me a bible. HE HANDED ME A BIBLE. Right there, in the middle of the block, a stranger handed me the bible we had prayed for. It was a brand new one. It was a soft leather-bound, gold-trimmed, prayed-for bible. And then the man left without another word. I never saw him again.
Three weeks prior to this moment, I had had a very emotional experience praying a pre-written prayer. But this moment dug an even bigger and deeper mark into my spirit. My mind was convinced that this God I had prayed to was real, and that he heard me and cared for me. I was completely overwhelmed by his goodness. There would be nothing that could have possibly wiped off the smile on my face for a long time!
I read that bible all. the. time. I woke up and read it before I got out of bed. I read it through the day. I read it in bed before falling asleep at night. I studied it with my friend every Monday. I meditated on it. I LOVED it.
And God changed me.
I took that little pamphlet with the four spiritual laws everywhere I went. I read it to my boyfriend, I read it to my best friend. I read it to my mom. I read it to my math teacher. No one seemed impressed by it. Everyone seemed to think I had lost my mind. But my love for God grew and grew.
My senior year in high school was the beginning of my walk with God. Today marks 31 years from the day I prayed that little prayer. My life was completely and irrevocably transformed, forever.
I planned on leaving to Europe for a year as a foreign exchange student, but my parents changed their mind at the last minute, and did not let me go. I was very disappointed and disoriented, since I did not have a plan B; Yet, with my newly found faith, I trusted that God had a purpose for my life. The turn of events led me to make the decision to come to the United States. My grandfather and his wife, Mary, lived in Miami and I could stay with them. I did not know at the time that they were also Christian and would support me and help me grow in the faith. And that was that. I said good-bye to my friends and family. I took a plane and cried all the way there. I landed in Miami on August 24th, 1884, not knowing what I would do with my life. My grandfather suggested community college. A week later I was sitting in classes at Miami-Dade Community College as a music major.
Five months later, I met Juan. His love for God was irresistible. One month after that I was engaged. And the following January, married. But that is a story I will write in another blog post 🙂
About a year after I became a Christian, my mom believed in the lord Jesus as well. She shared the gospel with my dad and he also believed and was converted. He is now with the Lord.
My understanding of the gospel has grown. My experiences with God have deepened. My knowledge of the bible has increased. But I know one thing for certain. God saved me that day 31 years ago. Among other things, I have learned that a prayer doesn’t save you, but faith does. I did not “decide” to know him. He pursued me. He compelled me. He moved me. He spoke to me. He confirmed his presence to me. He took me from a state of death (that I was not aware I was in) to a state of life. And it was ALL his doing. I was born that day. And I am so grateful!
This is the story of the way God saved me. Fortunately, he continues to save me (otherwise known as “sanctify” me), transforming me constantly through his words given to me in the bible. Not a dull moment with him. Not a single regret. And my heart is full with anticipation at the thought of meeting him face to face one day, after my days are done on this earth. I know when and how my walk with him started, but the even greater news is that it will never end.
The summer I was saved. Spending a week at Salinas, a beautiful Ecuadorian beach
My senior year in high school, studying at my house with my best friends
Newly arrived to Miami, FL, sporting my incredibly cute old-beat-up VW