When I met Jesus

When I was seven years old, I met Jesus. He wasn't physically there but according to my church, we met and apparently it was a life changing experience.

It was summer, I was out of school, my parents needed me to be preoccupied, our local Alliance Church was holding a bible summer school something or other, it seemed the only logical step. Being so young I don't remember much of my experience there, I remember not liking it that much because most of the kids there weren't kids I hung out with regularly at school, in fact most of those kids were kids I didn't normally see at school.

It was two weeks I think we were there, two weeks of Sunday school every day, plus the regular Sunday school on Sunday. We played games, mostly biblical themed, such as "Devil Killers", "Destroy the Heathen", and "Let's Convert the Sinner". There were normal games as well such as floor hockey, basketball, and ping pong that made us look like we fit into normal society more.

The teacher of this school was Mrs. Schmitke, I don't remember her first name, to me she had no first name, she was just Mrs. If she had a first name it would be in the vein of an Ethel or Edna...Ethel, she was an Ethel to me, she looked like an Ethel, she walked like an Ethel, and she smelled like an Ethel. I don't remember her age, but she must've been that age which frightened children for it was the age that gave her that Witch like appearance.

For years my family had been going to this certain Alliance Church, mostly it concentrated on the love that Jesus brought, especially to those who loved him back. I remember the sermon about what he did to those who didn't love him, it wasn't pretty. It was the sermon about the end of the world when Jesus would return and kill everyone who didn't believe in him, and send the ones who did up to Heaven. It got me wondering, if Santa Claus had that power would he do the same?

I also remember the sermon about Hell, particularly the lake of fire part, I didn't much take kindly to swimming in a lake of fire, especially since I didn't know how to swim, that just sounded extra painful. My brother, knowing this certain aspect of Hell tormented me the most took it as his advantage to torture me at home with an even more descriptive version of it than the Pastor made.

No sir, it seemed to me Hell was no picnic, neither was the end of the world, it became obvious to me that the only way to avoid these plagues of evil was to get to know the one man who could stop this.

I've seen pictures of Jesus, I even read about him, in church we did nothing but sing about him. I remember in particular the song "Jesus Loves the Little Children, all the children of the world." That comforted me, but I was realizing I wouldn't be a child forever, I was 7 soon to be 8, I was growing up fast, pretty soon I would lose his love and I would be like every other poor unfortunate soul, I needed full everlasting coverage to avoid eternal damnation, that's when I decided to meet Jesus.

It was the final day of Summer Sunday School Bible Camp, when Ethel Schmitke invited all the kids to meet Jesus. She understood those who didn't feel ready to meet him yet, so there was no pressure, it didn't matter for there were enough peanut butter cookies waiting downstairs to feed everyone. Those who didn't want to meet Jesus could go down early and get their cookie, the rest were to stay behind. Despite the craving of a peanut butter cookie at that moment, my little 7 year old head was too full of hell fire fear to care all that much, I waited with my other Summer Sunday School Bible Camp Brethren, we were about to meet the big cheese to make all our fears go away.

I remember the moment vividly, we were all sitting on chairs in a circle, Mrs. Schmitke and her minions surrounded us, each child got there own minion, together with them we prayed, we prayed to ask Jesus into our heart, we prayed to be saved. For my part, I remember bowing down with a minion, closing my heart, repeating the words given to me asking Jesus to come into my heart, in a matter of moments it was over. My heart was no longer mine, Jesus owned it, it was his to have, I was relieved, no more hell, no more end of the world for me, I was going straight to Heaven.

After the ceremonial meeting with Jesus, we went downstairs to have our peanut butter cookies, afterwards each of us were given a balloon, my mother came to pick me up, Mrs. Schmitke and the minions escorted us out. It was a bright sunny day, it was warm outside just like my Jesus infested heart. We were told to hang on to our balloons, suddenly a stereo with inspirational christian music came on, it might've been Amy Grant I don't remember, we were then told by Mrs. Schmitke to let go of our balloons. With that, there they went, like our newly saved souls would some day go, up to heaven, the music became louder, Mrs. Schmitke took me to my mom. "Jeremy has something to tell you", she said. I shyly said "I'm a christian". My mother was overjoyed, she gave me a big hug for she now knew that we would both be in heaven together forever.

Since that day more bible camps came and went, I remember "Circle Square Ranch", a year later when my brother met Jesus for the first time, this pretty much gave him full reign to pound on me, it didn't really matter what he did, Jesus owned his heart too, this only gave him more ways to torture me. "Now I can pound on you all I want forever since we'll both be in Heaven." I couldn't wait.

Years later my family stopped going to church, no one seemed to like saying grace at the dinner table either since it cut into eating time, so we stopped doing that too. All the bible camps disappeared too, I was starting to see through their organized religion facade, and I told my parents I didn't like going there anymore.

More things happened, my parents divorced which actually caused me to revisit church after so long, I suppose I was looking for meet Jesus again, to see how he was doing with my heart, and maybe if he wasn't using it I could have it back. I went back to church but didn't really find him again, at least not the one I found when I was seven.

I stopped going to church, but for awhile I continued to pray, like a always did since I was a kid. I prayed for peace, for my family, my friends, and for guidance. It got kinda monotonous so I decided to stop.

I still had the bible though, that document of why we believed what we believed as I was growing up. I realized I never read the bible all the way through. All those things I went to with BIBLE in the title, the camps, the studies, the meetings, all that and I failed to read the damn thing. In fact all these things I was told about Jesus, I never really looked for myself, what kind of guy was he?

I opened the book to The New Testament (Jesus' story). It turned out he was a great guy, it didn't seem like he was the kind of person who was supposed to come down from Heaven one day and destroy all mankind. He treated everyone equally even the ones who were sinners, he never seemed to be as preachy as his contemporaries made him our to be. He did what he thought was right and rose up against oppressors, reading this it was hard to believe this guy existed at all.

I thought for a moment and I closed the book, I had met Jesus before, but I now I understood him for the first time.

I still don't go to church, or pray, or say grace at the dinner table anymore. At Christmas I still enjoy the religious carols and my dad still places the nativity scene above the television as only a small reminder. Despite all this I still think about Jesus a lot, I often wonder if the guy I read about is around watching down at us, and if he is, I wonder what he must be thinking, and must be feeling, I wonder if some day I'll be able to really meet him.