I grew up in the church, but I never saw Jesus. I attended Sunday School ever since I could remember, but I didn't see the reality of the lessons lived out in those who taught me. I listened to multiple sermons, but never once heard the gospel of grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness. I often times hungered to know what the verse meant, but felt empty when I left church each week.
One day, in the fall of my sophomore year of high school, a crusade came to our town. The nights I attended, I heard that Jesus died on the cross for my sins. The last night of the crusade, something new rang in my heart and I understood for the first time that the offer to receive the free gift of salvation and a hope beyond what this life had to offer was for me. A little apprehensively, I approached the altar and asked the Lord to forgive my sins and give me a reason to live. He did.
I instantly found myself surrounded by all these people who actually took living for Jesus seriously. They had committed their entire lives to living for Him. I feasted on what they taught me, because for the first time in my life I witnessed Jesus in skin in the new church I began to attend. These wonderful folks nurtured me in my new faith.
I needed that early upbringing in my faith to endure the difficult challenges the Lord would bring into my life when my husband entered full-time ministry. My life is blessed with those who continue to faithfully show me Jesus in skin in the good, bad, and ugly of life.
This picture I found on the internet says it all!