My daughter Rachel ran into my room and burst out crying, “I’m so sorry, Mommy…” This was the second time in one week she had confessed her sin before I found out what she did. The first time was a few days previous, when she told me that she had stuffed some math pages behind her bed so she wouldn’t have to do them.
“What did you do now?” I asked her through her tears.
“I cut the beaded doorway with the scissors.”
Walking to the kitchen, I saw two strands of the beaded doorway cut. I was visibly disappointed, because our entire family had enjoyed going in and out of the doorway, swishing the beads. I had found that at a yard sale over the summer, and the odds of finding another one for $3 were slim to none.
She wailed, because perhaps she had liked the doorway the most. She and I walked into my room, and I sat down with her. My daughter has a knack for getting into trouble.
“The reason you do bad things is because you don’t have Jesus living in you. You can’t help but sin,” I said. “Would you like to have Jesus in your life, helping you to do what’s right?”
“Yes,” she said. I could see that she understood her depravity for the first time. I presented the gospel, which she had heard before, but somehow never appropriated to herself. I said that Jesus died for her sin.
“But I wasn’t born back then,” said my daughter.
“Jesus died for your sin before you were born. He paid the price for the sin of everyone who would believe in Him. Your sin deserves death, and He died so that you could have a relationship with Him.”
She wanted to know how to ask Christ into her life. I was so excited, I called my husband. “Can I lead her to Christ without you? She’s ready.” My husband said to do whatever God was leading me to do. So I hung up the phone and led her to Christ.
Every year when Rachel gets her MRI for the lump on her back, I never know if she will need surgery and die. Every year I have to put her on the altar of my life and choose Christ above my daughter. And every year I wonder when the age of accountability is, and that if she were to die, would I know that I would see her again in heaven.
Now with tears streaming down my face, I don’t have to wonder any more. And for this I am truly grateful.
