“Do you know my Jesus?” were the words that came from his mouth.
At first, I was taken aback by the question. I had attended church all of my life. Growing up in Sunday School, I knew all of the Bible stories by heart. Later, I became a deacon, sang in the choir, and led worship services. To be honest, I was insulted by the question. Did I know Jesus?
As I thought about the question, I couldn’t answer it. Did I know Jesus? I thought I did, but now doubts entered my mind. Did I know Him? Or better yet, did He know me?
The man who asked the question was an evangelist invited to our church. He asked the question during Sunday Night Service. To be honest, it shook me to the core.
“Have you repented of your sins and asked Him into your heart?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer the question.
“Has the Holy Spirit prompted you to come forth? Or have you ignored Him?”
I began to weep as I thought about all the times I had felt the tugging of my heart’s strings and how I had fought it. I remember telling myself there was plenty of time to do it. It doesn’t have to be now. I’m all right.
The thought dawned on me that I was insulting God by how I lived my life. I was lying, pretending to be something I wasn’t, and the thought shamed me. People looked up to me, thinking I was an example of what they should strive to be. They didn’t know who I was. It sickened me.
The rest of the service was a blur as I wallowed in shame. The only thing on my mind was this. I wanted to know Jesus.
As the choir began to sing, “Why not now? Why not now? Why not come to Jesus now?” I rose to my feet and stumbled to the altar.
The choir stopped singing, and I heard gasps from the congregation as I went forth. I didn’t care. I was living a lie and couldn’t do it any longer.
The evangelist met me at the altar. Taking my hand, he asked, “Do you want to meet Jesus tonight?”
Through my tears, I whispered, “Yes.”
“The Lord told me there was someone who would come forth tonight. Someone that wasn’t what they portrayed themselves to be. Is it you?” he asked.
I nodded, only because I couldn’t speak. I began to fall, and our pastor and ushers came to my side. Prostrate, I was surrounded by the men I had fooled all these years. I could hear them praying for me. This, in itself, surprised me. I was expecting scorn and anger.
The evangelist joined me and asked a simple question. “Do you want to meet the Master?”
“Yes, but will He accept me? I feel that my life has been an insult to Him. Will He forgive me?” I choked out through my tears.
“Why don’t you ask Him?” As I repented, a burden lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I felt Jesus’s presence. I bawled like a baby. That night, He became real to me. He became my Lord.
Stumbling to my feet, all of the men hugged me. The last to hug me was my pastor. Whispering in his ear, I told him there was something I had to do. He nodded, and I broke free.
Facing the congregation, I
began.
“I owe everybody here an apology. All of my life, I have lived a lie. I have pretended to be a Christian, and I have deceived you. I ask that you forgive me. What I have done has been an insult to God and you. Moments ago, I met the Master for the first time. Now, not only do I know Him, He knows me.”
As the congregation left their seats and gathered around me, the Holy Spirit arrived in all his glory, and we had a revival that will always be remembered. All because of a simple question.
“DO YOU KNOW MY JESUS?”