My First Prayer

Do you remember your first prayer? 

I don’t mean “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep”, or “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food” sorts of prayers. I mean the kind of prayer that honestly reaches out to God, looking for an answer.

                I do. 

I must have been either six or seven, or somewhere in between, because I was standing in the driveway between the house and the barn of the old George Dickerson Farm where we lived at the time, just north a couple of miles or so from the long since razed Chester Center Township School, replaced in the middle 60s consolidation by Southern Wells High School. (http://www.swraiders.com/)

It was here I first remember seriously “contemplating” God, so to speak. 

I remember standing in the driveway somewhere between the house and the old sheep watering tank by the barn thinking, praying, or whatever one might call it at that age. I was telling Jesus that I was trying very hard to be a good boy, hoping those efforts would be good enough, but if he ever did want me to go to that alter (at the close of myriad sermons, I’d watched the congregation stand while the pastor asked penitents to come forward and be “saved”), he was going to have to make me start crying so I would know it was really him. To this day I have no idea what crying had to do with it, but I was pretty shy and dreaded the thought of going forward, so maybe I thought since I’d already have humiliated myself by crying, I may as well use that moment to go forward.

It was at the Little White Church on West Wiley Avenue in Bluffton, Indiana . . . at least two years later . . . when Jesus answered that prayer. 

Elmer Ingle was the pastor and had preached I-know-not-what, as I was busy writing, drawing, or some such thing, rather oblivious of everything until the congregation was asked to stand and an alter call was given. I remember bursting into tears, knowing I had to go forward, so I tugged on my Mom’s dress and asked her to go with me.

It was then and there I gave my heart to Jesus.

That was more than 50 years ago, and unfortunately I can’t honestly say I’ve perfectly walked the “narrow way” (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+7&version=NKJV), but I can say I’ve sensed his hand on my shoulder, gently guiding, never pushing, ever since. 

Do you remember your first prayer?