My story is kinda long but I will give you the shortest version that I can. I did NOT grow up in a Christian home and I didn't even attend a Sunday morning service (that I can remember) until I was about 12 or 13 years old. I went to a Methodist church with a neighbor. I went very rarely and usually it was just because she took me and my cousin to lunch afterwards. That was my first encounter with chuch...but not really Jesus.

A few years later, we had a yard sale at my house and some women in long skirts and nice shirts came to the sale. They just looked around and made some small talk and then when they saw that we had 4 kids living at our house, they invited us to come to church and gave us a phone number to call if we needed a ride. They also went through the plan of salvation with us, but we didn't understand what they were talking about so we just went along with what they were doing and saying. We didn't think about going to their church for awhile but about a month later, we decided to call them and we started going to church.

The first day we went to church, we rode the church van and went to Sunday school. On the way out of Sunday school, the teacher stopped us (me and my cousin Emily) and talked to us about Jesus. I didn't really understand what she was talking about but I wanted to be polite so I stood there and listened and nodded when she asked me questions. One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the church making a public profession of faith that wasn't true...but somehow I thought that it was. After that I got really involved in going to church, on youth trips, etc. because that was what I thought was expected of me.

Around 2 years later I went to a camp with the youth group. During that week, God really started to work on me. On the second day, we had a tornado within a few miles of camp and I realized how afraid to die I was. I was afraid to die because I knew I would not go to Heaven, I'd go to Hell. Despite that, I was too proud to do anything about it and just went on my way. I pretended that I was okay until the last preaching service of the camp. The speaker preached hard about Hell and about salvation and what Jesus had done for each one of us. I sat there with the Holy Spirit basically yelling at me and just held back tears. Towards the end, the preacher said the words that I will never forget. "If you church bus crashed on the way home and you died, where would you go?" I KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that I would go to Hell. I could no longer hold back tears, but I didn't let anyone see me cry. When he gave the invitation, I stood at my seat because I was afraid that people would look at me and say that I had lied the whole time that I said I was saved. I was just too proud to admit that I had sinned and that I needed Jesus in my heart. After the invitation, I finally decided that I HAD to accept Christ at that time. I immediately found one of our youth workers and broke down crying and telling her that I needed to get saved. She led me through the familiar verses of the Roman's Road and I fully accepted Christ and what He had done for me. I prayed and cried and asked and thanked Jesus and God for their wonderful mercy. Then, the youth worker prayed and we hugged and I said hello to Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.

Boy am I glad I did! It was the best decision I've ever made and ever will make. If you haven't decided to make Jesus your Savior, please talk to me ASAP! Don't go another day with Him as your Personal Savior and best friend.

Thanks. Why can't you share yours? Are you afraid of what we will think? I am sure that you have a good testimony too, don't worry about it.

A testimony is a story of what God has done for you in your life. The biggest thing is of course salvation. You can write about when you became a Christian. Other things can include when you witnessed to someone, when God called you to do something, etc.