When I was converted to Christianity as an adult over twenty years ago, I vividly recall my first Sunday at my mother’s church. At the time, I had very little frame of reference for what a church service might look like. Growing up, I only stepped into a church building for the occasional funeral. My mother and a few of the Christians I knew had invited me to church for years—a request I would always politely decline as I scoffed inwardly at the very thought that I could possibly need salvation.
But now, everything was different. Weeks earlier I had given my life to Christ after reading the Gospel of John. Suddenly, I saw the world through new eyes. Though I didn’t know anything about church, my thought was that if there was a group of people who were as eager as I was to celebrate my precious Lord Jesus who had so powerfully revealed Himself to me, I was all for it!
As I entered the building, I was immediately struck by the festive, welcoming atmosphere. As I walked to my seat, nameless saints stopped me numerous times to greet me with a warm hug. Some told me they
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