Tonight I sit alone in my study.  All around me are the treasures from years gone by, each with its history of cherished memories.  Old books, some of them dating to the early 1800’s, fill three bookcases lining the north wall. Their pages recount battles fought and won and sagas retold.  The aroma of age hangs in the air, both from memories of old tales and from the tangible reminders surrounding me out of my own distant past.

A shiny silver teapot, its spout aimed as if to fire a round across the bow of my ship, sits atop an old fashioned woodstove, rustic and blackened with the fires of many seasons.  An old leather chest with wooden straps and brass latches sits nearby, as handsome as a highly decorated war hero.  Ernest Hemingway surveys the study from his picture on the South wall as if waiting to offer writing advice.

Just two days ago I rediscovered another old treasure: my childhood Bible.  It is torn a bit on the binding and its dusty cover has taken on the hue of antiquity.  Barely discernible are the crooked, once gold letters stamped by a nine year old boy in the lower right hand corner of the leather binding many years ago. 

“Jeremy.” 

Tonight I opened the old Bible for the first time since I was a teenager.  The first page reads, “Presented to Jeremy Saxton, from the First Baptist Church, June 26th 1966.”  This is the Bible I read when my mother told me, “Jeremy, you’ll find all the answers to your questions in that Book.”

My family and I attended the First Baptist Church all the years I was growing up.  Every Sunday morning Mom put a roast in the oven.  Dad and we boys dressed up in our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and wingtip shoes.  The old, robin’s egg blue 1956 Buick took us all to Sunday School, where I learned much about Jesus’ great love.

The regular church service held its own kind of excitement.  I loved to sing and I loved to watch the people nearest to me.  One gentleman, tall, dark, and mustachioed, sat directly in front of us.  He sang with a deep baritone vibrato.  When I got old, I decided, this was who I wanted to be like and look like (he must have been all of 35 years old at the time). 

We stood to sing an old hymn out of a well worn hymnal.  My attention was fixed on the distinguished man, listening to his rich voice.  Dad nudged me in the ribs.  “Jeremy, don’t stare at people,” he whispered.  Ah, yes, pay attention to the pastor, just like the distinguished man was doing.

The Pastor was a kindly gent.  But one thing I did not understand.  After his interminable sermons, he liked to step down from the platform, stand in front of the congregation and hang his head.  I thought this quite odd.  Did he feel bad about the sermon he had just preached?  Maybe he was sad about something else.  I would ask Mom once we got home.

Smells embraced us at the front door of the house, the delicious aroma of pot roast, onions, potatoes and carrots all ready to be served up to a hungry family.  I hung out in the kitchen, sitting backwards on a chair and head resting on my arms, waiting for a chance to squeeze in a question between the rattle of pots and pans. 

“Mom, why does the Pastor stand in front of the congregation hanging his head?  Is he sad about something?”

She set down a saucepan and smiled.  “Sweetie, he isn’t sad about anything.  He stands there so people can go to him for prayer or to be baptized.”

“What’s that?”

Mom leaned thoughtfully against the counter, dabbing her dishrag at a scrap on the countertop.  The saucepan was back on the stovetop.

“Baptism is where you take some classes which teach you about being a follower of Christ and when you are done with the class the Pastor dunks you in the baptismal pool.”

“Why does he dunk you?”

She smiled again.  “People do that to show the rest of the Church that they have chosen to follow Jesus.”

“Is that something I should do?”

“Yes, when you feel you are ready.”

Trouble sleeping began shortly after those life shaking questions and answers.  I developed a new fear: What if I should die before I was ready?  I lay awake for several hours most every night.  What about this baptism thing?  And what would happen to me if I should die during the night?

Mom was easy to talk to about such things, so I went to her again for the answer to my worry about dying. 

“You won’t have any trouble getting into God’s heaven if you’re a good person,” she assured me.  I knew I had not stirred up any real big trouble for anybody and I had learned about how wonderful heaven is in Sunday school, so I shouldn’t be worried.

Right?

Wrong. 

I continued to toss and turn with worry each night.  There must be something more to this going-to-heaven stuff.

At the risk of making a pest of myself, I found the courage to bring up the subject of death to my Mom again.  She and I sat on the big sofa.

“You have good questions, Jeremy.  Sometimes I’m not able to answer you very well, but you’ll find all the answers to your questions right in the Bible.”  Then she asked, “Do you still have the Bible you received in Sunday school?”

I looked at my mom curiously.  “Yes….”

She moved a little closer to me on the sofa.  “I want you to go get it and read the first four books of the New Testament.  Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“The Bible will give you the answers much better than I can.”  She gave me a quick hug and I scrambled off, finding my Bible on a bookshelf in my bedroom. 

I was now into my thirteenth year of life and on a hunt for God and the way to His heaven.  The cover on the Bible was still stiff from newness and lack of use as I opened it up.  Enveloped in the sweet smell of new leather, I began my search.

The first night I managed to work through all the ‘who-fathered-whom’ in the first chapter of Matthew.  I fell asleep that night with a little peace.  At least I was looking for God and if I should die tonight, He would probably take that into consideration.

Each night I worked through a chapter or two and fell asleep after praying the Lord’s Prayer, as my mother had taught me. 

Time was passing.  I searched every word and phrase for some hidden clue to eternal life.  It must be in here somewhere.  God, show me!

I read all the way through Matthew, Mark and Luke.  Finally, in John chapter 3, I discovered that Nicodemus had the same questions I did.

“He came to Jesus at night and said, ‘Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs you are doing if God were not with him’” (John 3:2).

Hey, I believed that too!

“In reply Jesus declared, ‘I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again’” (John 3:3).

Huh!

“‘How can a man be born again when he is old?’ Nicodemus asked.  ‘Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother’s womb to be born!’” (John 3:4).

My thought exactly!  Anticipation filled my heart.  Maybe I’m onto something here?!

“Jesus answered ‘I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit.  Flesh gives birth to flesh but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.  You should not be surprised at My saying, you must be born again.  The wind blows wherever it pleases.  You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.  So it is with everyone born of the Spirit’” (John 3:5-8).

At this point, poor old Nicodemus was still in a fog, but me, I was finally starting to understand what it was all about.  You are first born from your mother’s womb in the flesh.  When you make a decision to become a follower of Jesus Christ you are then born again, not of the flesh, but of the Spirit.

I continued to read.  The more I read God’s word, the more His love chipped away at my heart’s deeply rooted fears.  Jesus continued to explain eternal life to Nicodemus, who was sure to get a clue soon, and I listened.

“For God so loved the world that He gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world” (John 3:16-17). 

I don’t know about Nicodemus, but I know I got it!  God loved me enough to send His Son Jesus to die on the cross for me.  Either I die for my own sins and go to hell, or I could let Jesus’ death substitute for my own death.  My part was to accept His gift of salvation through substitution, to not only believe in the existence of Jesus Christ, but also to believe His words and promises. 

For days on end I read the Word of God.  Faith replaced fear.  I read past the first four books of the Bible and as I did, I learned about God’s enduring love and His high hopes for me. 

He loved me enough to warn me that “being a good person” is a literal impossibility.  I discovered that in the book called Romans.

“There is none righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:10).

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ” (Romans 3:23-24).

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

As a thirteen year old boy I remember thinking, Okay, I think I understand so far.  God sent His son to die on the cross for me, because I couldn’t ever be good enough to enter into heaven on my own.  God sacrificed His Son on the cross in my place to pay for my sins.  God is offering me a gift, the gift of eternal life in Jesus Christ.

I was feeling fairly confident at this point, and sleeping better of course.  But there was a nagging question.

“What do I do now?”  What rite existed, the performance of which would confer eternal salvation upon the penitent one?  I kept reading, finally discovering the “how-to” in Romans 10. 

“If you confess with your mouth, Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.  For it is with your heart that you believe and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved” (Romans 10:9-10).

Ah.  There was nothing to do, just a belief to be held in the heart and a confession to speak with the mouth.  It didn’t happen all at once.  Several days passed after reading Romans 10.  I hid in my bedroom many times, sprawled across my bed poring over all the words I had read in the Bible, and then reading them all over again.

Home alone one afternoon, it struck me hard that God wanted me to talk to Him about my fear of dying.  In the middle of the living room I fell to my knees and began to talk to God.  I will never forget what I said to Him that afternoon.

“God, I’m scared!  I lay awake at night afraid to go to sleep.  Lord, I’m afraid of dying.  I don’t want to be afraid, I want to be sure of my place in Your heaven.  God, your Bible says for me to confess that Jesus is Lord, so I do that now.  He is Lord and I now place my trust in Him and what He has done for me on the cross.  I’m sorry, God, for all the things I’ve done wrong in my life.  Please forgive me and make sure I get to heaven when I die.”

Friend, when I ended that prayer, the knowledge that God had heard me, coupled with an indescribable peace, settled over and through my entire being.  All fear was gone in an instant and replaced with peace, joy and belief in God, who loves me more than I could ever know.

And I will bet you dollars to donuts that there was a five foot two little lady praying for her young son in the very next room, all through my reading of the Word of God in those days.

“This is how God showed His love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1John 4:9-10).

My new friend, I am here to tell you that God loves you as if you were the only one on earth to love.  His Son Jesus hung on the cross for you as if you were the only one to die for. 

“For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).  If you are having trouble sleeping, if you aren’t sure where you are going to spend eternity, if you are struggling with life’s choices and burdens, I have a Friend I would like you to meet.  His name is Jesus and He didn’t come to condemn you but to save you.  Listen to what He has to say to you, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30).

I believe today is a good day to place your faith in Jesus Christ.  He loves you and greatly desires a relationship with you.  If you would like to take the time now to commit your life to Him, just pray the same prayer I did from your heart and know that God is listening and He cares deeply for you.

Friend, I want for God to be able to use you in much the same way He has used me and in even greater ways than I.  I’m rooting for you and so is a mighty and loving God who is willing and waiting for you to give it all up to Him.

“For I know the plans I have for you,
declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you declares the Lord, and will bring you back from captivity”
(Jeremiah 29:11-14)

~~~~~~~

My study has changed some since I began this chapter.  A beautiful handcrafted wood desk now occupies a prominent spot.  My father Paul Saxton built it.  The first fire of the fall season has been stoked.  The silver teapot whistles cheerfully.  Ernest Hemingway hasn’t uttered a word and alongside me on the desk is the old Bible I received at Sunday school so many years ago.  It has prompted wonderful memories, and is filled with God’s word which is just as powerful today as it was for me thirty six years ago.

Do you know where your Bible is?  Why don’t you go get it and read the first four books of the New Testament.  If you are anything like me, four books may not be enough.