So the sisters sent word to Jesus, "Lord, the one you love is sick."
I was never very nice to my sister - always picking on her, calling her names, and just being a brat toward her. Then, on December 6, 1965, God took her away. They called it meningitis. One day she was sick, the next day she was gone.
God was punishing me, I thought, for being mean to my sister. This was the way this seven-year-old felt. From that point on, the only reason I went to church was because Mom made me. I was so alone, and I hated church.
In our little church every summer, we had a revival. It was not a short event - it lasted for a whole week. I didn't mind the music, but I had to sit and listen to that preacher go on and on. Then, to top it off, every night we had the dreaded altar call. It seemed to go on for hours, especially if nobody walked to the front.
It was at one of these boring revivals that my life was changed. Who would have thought a surly teenager like me would actually hear what was going on? That preacher was looking and preaching straight at me! I had no choice when the call was made. With tears in my eyes, down to the altar I went. It was like getting hit by a truck and losing a giant weight at the same time. People were gathering around me, offering prayers and encouragement. I felt so bad and so good at the same time, I could not describe it.
Hard to believe that you are loved so much that God put His Son on the cross so that your sins would be forgiven. One day, when I get to heaven, my sister and I will be having a talk about how sorry I am for treating her so badly.
Ask Jesus to come into your heart. Ask forgiveness from those you have wronged. Turn your life over to the Lord, and don't fret the small stuff.
The best part of this story came a couple of days later. My best friend, my Dad, made his way to the altar and also took the Lord into his life.
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-13
Psalms 22 or 141, 143
John 11:1-27 or 12:1-10