I grew up in a pastor’s home with parents who were faithful in teaching God’s Word to my siblings and me. The gospel was as natural and pervasive in our home as air. When I was nine years old, I dealt with a lot of anxiety over my safety, and uncertainty over where I would go after death. I woke my dad up one night and we sat on the side of my bed and spoke. I told him I wanted to feel assured of God’s presence and forgiveness. I prayed with him and made a public profession of faith. 

I am glad for that day of declaring publicly my adoption as God’s own, but the truth is, I think I was saved much earlier. I can recall being as young as six years old and feeling the heavy weight of my sinfulness and crying out for Jesus Christ to forgive me and save me into his flock. Taking God at his promise, “call upon the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved,” I believe I did that and was saved – even at the unsophisticated age of six.

My life was then pockmarked with doubt as I grew and encountered new temptations and intellectual arguments, but I was always met with firmer ground in His Word that assured me—both intellectually and intimately—of God’s character and my adoption as his. Through those rocky years, I have grown to know that God is indeed holding me fast – because of his character, not mine; because of Christ’s sufficient sacrifice, and not mine. His grace has led me safe this far, and it will lead me home to him.