Skip to main content

Wes Got Saved!


A couple years ago, when Wes was 5, he began to talk to me about salvation. He would randomly say, “Mom! I just asked Jesus in my heart!”  I’d follow up with, “Well, did you hear God speak to you?” He would always say no. He’d leave it at that and then go to sleep.

My dad has always said, “If you can put them off, then it isn’t the Holy Spirit. If they come to a place where you can’t put them off, then you know it is the Spirit.” He’s done this forever with parents, so I took his wise advice.   

For the last year or so Wes has asked me, “When is God going to speak to me?” I would respond, “He will talk to you when He’s ready. Remember you won’t hear His words in your ear, you will just sense them in your heart.”

This had become quite a controversy at our house though. He would sometimes be brought to the point of tears and say, “Mom, why won’t God speak to me? I still haven’t heard him.” I would reassure him again, “Wes, God knows what He’s doing. He will speak to you when he’s ready.” This went on for months, probably closer to a year.

On Friday night, January 12, 2018, I was back home at my parent’s house and Wes said, “Will you read this book to me?” I began to read it and in short, the story was about a little girl whose heart was black and filled with sin and then she meets Jesus and he cleans her heart up, so that it becomes white. It was a great little book, I thought. But then here we went again, Wes just started weeping, “Why won’t God speak to me? I’ve been praying and asking him for so long to speak to me. When mom? When?” I put him in bed, still crying, and honestly, I was kind of worn out with it, I said, “Wes, this is a trust issue. You’re going to have to trust God. He will speak when it’s the right time. He will. Trust him.” He cried himself to sleep.

The next Sunday, we were all sitting in church together. As we were standing and singing, Wes turned to me and said, “Mom… I hear God speaking to my heart.” I just sort of stood there for a second and then said, “Well, okay Wes, go ahead and pray back to Him.” He bowed his head over the chair in front of him and prayed.”

I won’t go into all of the details, but Wes couldn’t stop talking about it all day. He brought it up with me, with my dad, with my mom…multiple times through out the day. He just couldn’t hold it back. My dad suggested for us to walk through a simple wordless book, one page each night for the next 5 nights. That is what we did and we began with page 1 that evening.

Later that week one evening, after reading the wordless book, I said, “Now that God has spoken to you, He is going to keep speaking to you.” Wes was taken back. He couldn’t believe it. “Really?” he said,  “Oh mom I’m so excited. I think he is speaking to me right now. I think He’s asking me about my day right now. He wants me to tell him about my day.” I said, “Well, that is great. I know he wants to talk to you.” He followed that with, “Mom, my heart wants to say something to God.” I said, “Okay, what do you want to say?” He said, “I just want to tell God that He is the BEST. I want him to know HE is THE BEST!”

On Thursday, we finished the wordless book, so I asked Wes if he wanted to pray and ask Jesus in his heart and he said yes. We prayed and he repeated the prayer after me. When we were done, I said, “So Wes, do you think God came into your heart tonight or did He come in on Sunday?” Without hesitation he responded, “Mom, He came in on Sunday.” I said, “Alright little man. I’m really excited for you Wesley.”

Needless to say, I have cried on and off all this week just in praise to the Lord and in celebration of his decision.

I’ll admit that I have worried a little bit with him being so young, just shy of 7, but then I also wonder sometimes if the Lord didn’t come to him early because of all he has been through the last two years. I’ve watched his father force him to go to cult meetings each weekend and to door to door false gospel preaching. But then I remember that God has had to watch him go to all of that too. I’m sure it was a thousand times more horrifying for the Savior to watch than it was for me.  Sometimes I think God might have looked down and said, “Enough. I’m calling his name today.” And he did. And thankfully, so very thankfully, my kid responded.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Divorce and the Land of Israel

(If you are here, the very first thing I want you to read is this: Writing about a divorce can be sticky. I would never want to hurt B in any way. So, please know this post is about the divorce, not about B.)     Rejection.   In the past, I’d had friends hurt my feelings. I was dumped in college. There were jobs I wasn’t offered. There were times I wasn’t invited. But that was pretty much it. The rejection I had felt in my life was, what I would consider, typical.   When I found out B had filed for divorce, I was devastated. Normal, right? I think so. I was intensely sad and cried every day. This too, did not surprise me. In fact, during those first few months, I didn’t fight it. When the sobbing began, I would stop what I was doing so I could heave it out until that episode was over. I also expected the standard emotions that sadness brings with it; disappointment, depression, grief. I wept through each of these and these sorrowful emotions became increasingly better wit

God, and our rental home.

I was still living in the home that once held our family of five.  Rooms were now completely empty, the living room bare and our bedroom was...well...void.  B and his kids had left. I would collapse at the smallest emotional trigger, a "train-wreck" as some people commonly refer to it. I shed tears daily, sometimes hourly. The failure of my marriage felt catastrophic.  Spiritual questions loomed in my mind. Could I hear the Lord? Where was he in all of this? Wasn't he here...somewhere? It didn't feel like it. And if he was, I certainly couldn't hear him. I'd been taking steps one-at-a-time for a couple months, but on one particular day, I was told I had to find a new place to live too. I was crushed. Taking the first steps were hard, but having to leave our home, this home we'd bought together, lived in together, made memories in together...the permanence of this step was overwhelming.  I could barely think straight.  In fact, all I really knew was that I

They've been disarmed.

“Eric held him down until the police could get the gun out of his hand.” My friend, Beth, told me this story about her husband, a firefighter who helped wrestle a person to the ground during an emergency call yesterday.    This troubled man reached and successfully grabbed an officer’s gun from her belt, but was immediately subdued when four people, including Eric, pounced upon him. They restrained him until they had retrieved the gun and could carefully stand up again.    The culprit was disarmed.   Everyone was safe.   I love a story of valor.   Just a day before, I’d been reading through Colossians and came to chapter 2, verse 15, “He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, triumphing over them…”   My eyes veered back to “disarmed.” The Holy Spirit seemed to be highlighting that word in my heart, giving it an intense weight. I studied it. Originating in the late 14th century, it meant to “deprive of power to injure or terrify, render harmless.” Unable to caus