4-9-12<\/p>\n
Happy new year! That\u2019s one way to feel about the first day after Easter. \u201cHe is risen!\u201d \u201cHe is risen indeed!\u201d is how Christians of the first centuries would exchange greetings. All things are made new, after the Resurrection. But then, every day should bring the realization of a new life in Christ!<\/p>\n
I have been thinking of the first times I heard about Jesus. Too early to remember an exact day, because I was fortunate to be born into a family of believers. \u201cChurch-goers.\u201d As a child I had a standard faith \u2013 I use the term because it was only in my twenties that I came to an intense, personal knowledge of biblical truth and relationship with Jesus: born again. Yet, early on, seeds were planted; Bible stories were told; verses were memorized; prayers were said; hymns were sung.<\/p>\n
Seeds. A good metaphor at Springtime. Not many committed Christians in our culture can say that they only heard about Jesus for the first time in the their twenties or forties. (Hearing the \u201chard truth\u201d of the Bible, in this culture, is another matter\u2026 for another discussion). But almost every new believer will say he or she \u201creturned\u201d to the faith. Seeds, when planted, sometimes lay dormant, but can always sprout.<\/p>\n
A \u201cstandard\u201d church-going kid, I went through my wise-guy period of rebellion against God in my high-school years. Never an atheist, I veered toward agnosticism, and yapped a lot of skepticism in classes and to friends. <\/p>\n
In the cafeteria, there was a kid who was kind of a loner. Not the newspaper-headline kind of loner, just a guy who always pretty much kept to himself. He was a pudgy kid, I don\u2019t think an object of bullying or anything, just kind of private. One day he called me over to where he was eating, alone. I never really had talked to John Frost (what were his parents thinking?) before then.<\/p>\n
I remember being impressed, a really nice kid, good conversations, a clever guy. Before I knew it, as natural as anything, he was talking to me about Jesus. He shared a little, but no grilling of me, no \u201cdecision\u201d challenge. Every once in a while, thereafter, we would share lunch \u2013 I\u2019ll admit that he did more of the inviting than I did \u2013 I would share dessert, and he would share Jesus.<\/p>\n
I will tell you that Johnny\u2019s quiet witness, as we can call it, had a greater impact than the substance of what he said\u2026 or so it seemed to me. The fact that a stranger would do this, non-confrontationally, randomly, bravely, and \u2013 what else? \u2013 in the purest form of Christian love, impressed me. Later on, it inspired me. How to be gently bold.<\/p>\n
Seeds. Can you remember who first told you about Jesus? Most likely it was a parent or grandparent (am I wrong to want to suggest \u201cmother or grandmother\u201d)? Was it a random song on the radio or Christian cartoon on TV? Was it a Sunday School teacher? Almost all of the \u201cyes\u201d answers would still have to trace back to parents who placed us in situations where we could see or hear\u2026 where seeds could be planted. Parents, take note.<\/p>\n
I certainly can remember the first \u201chymn\u201d I learned. It is still one of my favorites, not only because of its profound though simple message, but because it always transports me back. \u201cJesus Loves Me\u201d puts me in the place where God first said Hello to me, where I had an inkling of a loving Savior, where I could believe that I belonged to Him, and where a book called the Bible could hold answers to my questions. Yes, Jesus loves me!<\/p>\n
Is that song one of the \u201cseeds\u201d of your faith? Can you remember who first shared Jesus with you? And early, middle, or late in life, did someone else come alongside you to nourish those seeds? In my case, it was a guy named Johnny \u2013 a real Spring Frost; maybe an angel \u2013 who chatted comfortably about the greatest truths of history, and the neediest needs of my needy heart, in the corner of a high-school cafeteria. <\/p>\n
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