by John Ellis
No matter how hard I tried during my twenties, I was unable to escape Jesus. During the Holy Spirit’s gracious pursuit of me, one of the primary means God used was the many Bible stories that my mom had drilled into my head when I was a child. My mom loved stories, and she loved Jesus even more. She also loved her thoroughgoing little pagan of a son, and she patiently, lovingly, and persistently told me about Jesus, using a variety of mediums. At the time, outside of the fact that I found many of the stories interesting, I thought that the only benefit was that I was money at Sunday school Bible quiz time.
By the time I had reached my twenties, I believed that I had left those Bible stories behind and had replaced them with the freedom found in pursuing the desires of my flesh. God, thankfully, had other plans. Even getting high didn’t stop the flood of Bible stories from playing through my mind as I desperately sought to escape God. And ever since I bowed my knee to King Jesus in God given faith and repentance, I’ve been eternally grateful for a Christian mother who believed that it was important for her children to learn about Jesus.