10/09/2026
Here is the testimony of one of our church members.
The Second Invitation
​I sat in the pew on Sunday listening to the pastor talk about Nicodemus in John 3, where Jesus looks a respected religious leader in the eye and tells him point-blank, "Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again." During the sermon, he also shared a story about a man who had been a deacon for forty years. This man taught Sunday school, served faithfully, and did every single thing right on the outside, but he finally had to admit to himself that he didn't actually know if he was born again. He had to swallow every bit of his pride, walk down that aisle, and make it right with God. Sitting there hearing that, I realized I was looking right into a mirror—and for the first time, I had to trace my steps all the way back to where it all began.
​When I was ten years old on a youth camping trip, our youth pastor went down the Romans Road with us and asked if anyone wanted to be saved. I sat there watching most of the other kids raise their hands, pray, and talk with him, and I remember thinking to myself, "Maybe I should do that too." So I did. But I wasn't experiencing a true change of heart; I was just a quiet kid following the crowd, doing what everyone else was doing because I wanted to fit in.
​That pattern of distance only grew as the years went on. After getting hurt by the church, I spent a decade smoking pot and staying away entirely. When I finally walked back into church a month sober, my main focus was just filling every hour of my time so I wouldn't have time to get high. I threw myself into absolute overdrive—teaching Sunday school, leading ushers, serving on committees, leading prayer, writing devotionals—doing whatever it took to keep my head above water. It was draining, but I thought relying on God to get through the work meant everything was fine. Looking back now, I wasn't following Jesus. I was just running hard after sobriety, using church work to cover up a foundation that was completely hollow underneath.
​That's the trap though, isn't it? It is so easy to convince yourself that because you're holding a Bible, teaching teenagers, leading prayer, or writing devotionals that everything inside must be fine. But God doesn't care about our titles or our busywork if He doesn't actually have our heart. So when the pastor asked for hands on Sunday, I couldn't put mine up to say I was sure. And when he gave that second invitation for anyone who needed to be born again, I finally quit hiding behind my resume, swallowed my pride, and walked down to the front.
​Looking back across my life, the pattern was finally clear. At ten years old, I was chasing the crowd. When I came back to church, I was chasing after sobriety. But today, I can say without a doubt that I am chasing after Jesus. Laying down my reputation and letting go of what people thought of me was the best decision I ever made, because standing before God with a real relationship will always beat trying to show Him a religious resume.
