Called

Revised beginning of my current work in progress; a book describing my journey from fundamental Christianity to Atheism. This edit shows the voice of my six-year old self and narrows from several themes to one or two.

“And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.” Mark 16:15-16

I learned to read when I was five years old. One of my favorite books was a bunch of “real-life” stories about people called “Missionaries.” These people had left rich jobs and close friends to preach the Gospel to places like Africa and even China. The book was filled with descriptions and penciled drawings of half-naked people who didn’t know how to dress any better. They worshiped objects made out of stone and wood and did things like dance around fires and mix potions of animal parts together. If they kept doing those things and died, they would burn in the fires of hell forever! Someone had to go and tell them the story of how God, the Creator of everything, became a man so he could die and take their place. They would stop doing the weird rituals and wouldn’t have to be tortured in hell, if they believed in the story! In the stories, hundreds of native people were saved because they believed. One summer, I went to Camp Meeting and met God myself.

On the grounds of a local Holiness school was a building called “The Tabernacle.” It was named that to respect the Hebrews that lived in Bible times. Their Tabernacle is where God, normally an invisible voice, showed himself in real life to His priests. Ours was a large, white building with concrete floors and rows of long, wooden pews. A breeze blew through the few open doors on the sides. North Carolina got very sticky in the summer. The speakers at Camp Meeting would always point out that God did not forget His people who faithfully came to hear preaching from the Word, because it always rained at the hottest points of week-long revival meetings. The bursts of cool air made me feel like I could endure just a few minutes more of preaching. I believed that a breathe of fresh air from unexpected rain was God providing a miracle for his faithful followers. Later, money was raised to install several garage doors on each side and the miracle got bigger.

When we knelt to pray, I’d try to sneak a peek under to see the kneeling shoes of the pew behind us. Almost every time, my mom or dad would notice and shush me. One time an adult down a few spots on the row shushed me, and I felt embarrassed. Mostly we sang songs, heard other people sing songs, and then did the long-kneeling prayer, followed by a sermon from the preacher or special speaker. At the end of the sermon, is when God would touch the crowd. People would be crying and the preacher would invite them to come to the front to the altar and pray through.

One day, it had rained too early and we all sat in muggy air waiting for the missionary to finish his sermon. I don’t remember the story the missionary told but it made me feel very guilty. I shifted in my seat and felt terrible. I realized that I had had heard a lot of sermons but never accepted Jesus into my heart. I was just as bad as the sinner in the missionary’s story. Many people had left their seats the moment the altar call had been made.
“Can I go the front?” I asked my parents with tears running down my face. They looked happy and said of course I could.
I ran down the concrete floor to the low wooden altar that spanned the width of the building. At six, my arms were too short to reach up comfortably. I leaned against the wood with the top of my head and sobbed for God to forgive me of my sins so I could go and tell other people how awesome He was, and save them too. I was surrounded by a crowd of people praying loudly.

Off and on I felt the hand of my mom and dad on my back, supporting my tearful efforts. Then there were more hands, and several adults prayed over me. I could feel the surge of the Holy Spirit coming down in answer to their prayers and cleaning my body of its filth. My tears turned from self-loathing into awe and happiness. I was clean! This is how it worked! Jesus was in my heart now, his blood had washed me white as snow. I felt peaceful and powerful. I officially became a child of God and wouldn’t have to burn in hell. I noticed there were even some people down the row that had taken off their rings and laid them on the wood.

After everyone’s prayers quieted down, we all slowly went back to our seats. Some people were still running around all the pews shouting “Amen!” and “Praise God!” It was testimony time. People stood up one by one to the shouts and tears of everyone else, encouraging them to speak loudly about what God had done for them. A woman waved her hands in the air and showed she had left her jewelry at the altar so nothing would stand between her and a place in heaven. A man whooped as he said he would work harder to be a better example for his family.

When I stood up, there was a hushed awe. All eyes were on me as I declared that God had saved me from my sins. Not only that, he had called me to be a missionary. I spoke loudly to the crowd, happy to have all the positive attention now on me. People stood up and waved their arms in the air, and ran around the tabernacle. They thanked God for my willing heart. There were tears, and there were hugs; and all of it was for me. I sat down to the hugs and smiles of my parents. They were proud of me, and I felt like I’d burst with happiness. Jesus now lived in my heart. I would have the strength to share the Gospel to anyone and someday sinners across the world. I wouldn’t be possessed by Satan who made people do bad things, I was already taken by the call and indwelling of God.

-Charity Zechman