My Salvation Story

I’ve talked a lot about having a personal salvation story/testimony, and today I want to share mine with you.  I was born into a “Christian” home.  My father had been somewhat Catholic, and my Mom a spiritual seeker.  Eventually they settled on a name-brand church, in which they had us kids "baptized", and began involving themselves in “ministries“; singing in the choir, working at church functions, and ushering on Sunday mornings. All noble, good things, but I vividly recall my Mom saying, “There has to be more.”   For me, as a kid, the statement was ludicrous, who would want more of that boring stuff?

 Through high school and college I would tell you I was a Christian, if you asked, after all I  didn’t not believe in God, but I rarely attended church.  I would liken my belief in a supreme being to knowing, at the time, that Richard Nixon was president.  While I had the facts correct, and could answer some basis questions about the man, I’d never met him in person, shared a meal or had any kind of personal relationship with him. The arrangement was working fine for me.  What I didn’t know about God, and Richard Nixon didn’t bother me in the least.  I was obliviously content with my spiritual status.

A few years later, my Dad was transferred to southern Illinois from Staten Island, NY.  I was in my last year of college, so the change, while drastic, didn’t effect me much, until I graduated and came home.  Somewhere in the interim, my parents had gone off the spiritual deep end.  My mother’s deep desire to find “something more“, accompanied by some issues they were dealing with, with my younger sister, led them to come in contact with a pastor of a small church.  One of the first things he asked them was, “Have you accepted Christ as your savior?”  His question touched that empty void, and eventually led  them both to salvation and baptism.  Coming home, and finding my parents reading the Bible and going to church all the time, was unsettling to say the least.  In an effort to evangelize, they would ask me to attend services with them.  “No Way!!” was my pat answer.  It was bad enough that they were religious fanatics, but to try and drag me in was too much.

A funny thing happened as the months went by.  I had begun taking guitar lessons, and was enjoying it immensely. The young pastor happened to be at our house one day, and started asking me about my instrument.  He was a nice guy, and didn’t push religion on me.  After a few weeks he asked me if I’d like to sing a song at a revival service at the church.  To this day, I don’t know why I accepted.  I only knew 2 chords, a couple of tunes and singing in front of a group normally would have terrified me. The worldly me was preoccupied with what to wear, not about stage fright, or worse yet, having to sit through the service.  I had selected a Joan Baez-ish Indian print granny skirt with coordinating top, and was pumped when I set foot “on Stage”.  I sang "We Are One in the Spirit", the only churchy tune I knew, with just 2 chords, and it was a big hit.  The congregation applauded and Amen-ed as I exited to my pew, full of excitement.

But now I was trapped.  For an hour I listened as I heard the good news proclaimed like never before, for what it was, Good News!!  At the end, the pastor gave an invitation, to all those who had not accepted Christ as their savior, to come forward.  I didn’t think that was me, but there was that tiny annoying bit of doubt.  As the weeks went on, I found myself hungry to know more about this relationship/salvation thing. After-all, was I or wasn't I saved, I'd been baptized as a child, didn't that count?  The pastor even began a weekly Bible study for me and my sisters; I was hooked.  That nagging doubt, grew into the certain knowledge that I was living outside of God’s will.

It didn’t happen immediately, but over time, and with scriptural guidance from that pastor, I became acutely aware of my need to be “saved”, in other words, I came under conviction. One evening after Bible study, I casually asked the preacher if he had any time to baptize me.  Thinking he would schedule it for a later date, he shocked me by saying, “We have water, why hesitate.”  My parents, who must have been praying for me all this time, drove over to the church, and without hesitation I repented, and gave my life to Christ, burying the old Donna in the waters of that baptistery.  What has ensued over these 40+ years has been  wonderful, difficult, maturing and always amazing.  Have I ever regretted my choice?  No Way!!  While God continues to equip, remind, and even reprimand, me over the years, the joy that I have found in him has only grown fuller.  I hope there will be many chapters left in my continuing earthly saga, until He writes, "The End", but Chapter One: "My Salvation Story", is dearest to my heart.