Thursday, January 05, 2012

I was eight years old. It was a new church and I was the first to be baptized there. We had a series of revival meetings that week with a visiting preacher who made a chalk drawing while he preached that illustrated his message somehow. At the end of his sermon there was the altar call. One of the nights I felt I was being called to go forward. My father did the baptism. The water was cold and I was shivering.


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