Preacher Boy Bill

The church altar was a very frightening thing to me at the age of four years old. The preacher would say, “If you don’t come to Jesus at the altar, you will burn in Hell’s flames forever.” However, the altar of this church was about eight feet long and box shaped. The preacher would say, “Come to Jesus, come to the altar.” He would also say that Jesus died for us and was with us. I got the idea that Jesus was dead in that altar box. I was scared of it and wouldn’t come.

At the age of five, I knew I needed to be saved. There were a few lies I had told to get out of trouble. Even at five, I knew all had sinned and come short. I had attended church as long as I could remember and knew a lot about God for a five year old. The plan of salvation had become clear to me and I desperately wanted to get saved.

My maternal grandma lived in Texas in a small town call, Ovilla. It was south of Dallas and was a very old community. Even the famous outlaws, Bonnie and Clyde, had visited the town. Grandma attended a Pentecostal holiness kind of church. She was a wonderful saint of God. We usually visited her twice a year for a week or two.

It was a terribly hot day in July of 1955. We were on vacation visiting grandma. It was Sunday and the whole extended family came to grandma’s church to worship. However, this was the day, I knew I must get saved. The conviction of the Holy Spirit was very powerful. The little white church was unusually full and had no air conditioning. The windows were open and very little breeze was felt. All my cousins, uncles and aunts filled up a few pews like hot sardines. We sat about eight rows back from the front of the church. Most people had a hand held fan donated by the local funeral home. It had Psalm 23 on one side and a picture of Jesus on the other. The women were wearing nice hats and as little as I was, it was hard to see past the fans and the hats.

Mom sat next to the center isle and I was right by her. The preacher started preaching and I got up to go to the altar. I couldn’t wait for the invitation. However, mom thought I was going out to play or get into trouble and stopped me. She gave me that killer mother look. Back in those days, if you made trouble in church, they would take you outside and spank you hard. Mom didn’t understand and you didn’t argue with your parents back then. I waited what seemed forever and tried again to go to the altar. This time I tried to get past all the cousins, uncles and aunts but mom caught me by the shirttail. I just knew I was in trouble and she gave me one last warning. However, I was more fearful of dying without Jesus as my Savior. I waited again and decided on another escape route to the altar. When mom wasn’t looking, I quickly crawled under the pew in front of us. I crawled under all seven pews. Now nearly fifty years later, I still remember the high heel shoes and people being startled. In spite of all the obstacles, I finally made it to that old fashion altar and gave my life once and for always to Jesus. Mom was embarrassed at first and angry but when she saw I was getting saved she quickly rejoiced with the shouting little congregation. Mom felt bad about holding me back, but she didn’t know I wanted to get saved. She never ever held me back in God’s service again. I had taken the knee route to salvation. I felt like a shiny new penny and a tremendous load of conviction lifted.

Preacher Boy Bill

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