My Born Again Experience

     It was my first kids' camp; I was only six years old. We were in Antipolo, Rizal on the month of April. Before that momentous event, my parents were already bringing me to church on Sunday mornings, but there was yet to be a spiritual encounter that would lead me to get saved. (I got saved under the ministry of Manila Bethel Temple, now known as the Cathedral of Praise.) On the last night of the camp, I was unusually wide-awake as the preacher took his time. I knew his name years later as Ptr. Eli (not the one on Philippine TV). He gave the invitation to accept Jesus as personal Lord and Savior - to have a personal relationship with Him. Young as I was, somehow I understood the altar call, and I raised up my hand in response. Right where I was seated, I repeated the phrases of the pastor leading us in prayer, and meant every word of it. 

 
(image via Dreamstime)

It was nighttime, and yet I remember it so vividly: the campers were all under one big cottage that had a huge incandescent bulb hanging in the middle. The surroundings were pitch-black darkness and the trees and plants were like swaying shadows.

In that simple childhood terror of the night, I drew my attention to the preacher and the light, and intently listened to the message. I did not understand very much, except that Jesus loves me, and that was enough. I kept looking at the light for the rest of the service that night. It was a kind of light that blinds you when you stare at it long enough - a kind of blindness that all you see is white.

How did you accept Jesus into your life?

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