I have attended church, quite literally, ever since I was born.
My mother used to take young me and plop me onto a blanket; I played and rolled over and ate and slept while she taught Sunday School. I can’t remember a time when I was not in the pew of a church on Sunday.
I always knew, growing up, that this was obligatory – the attending-church part, anyway. There was no question of staying home. But I also knew, very early on, that being a Christian and having a relationship with Jesus was something else altogether: a distinct decision that had to be made by each individual. Unlike attending church, I was aware that this was something my parents could not make me do, nor was it something they could do for me. It was something only I could do, and a choice I had to make for myself…
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