Fiction

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“So, when were you saved, Margot?” Randall asks me in front of our Sunday School Class today.

I sit relaxed in my chair and look around the table. While we are waiting on our teacher to come back with some copies he needed to make for our lesson, the rest of the class has been comparing notes on who got saved and when. They are looking to me for an answer.

“Which time?” I ask.

They all sit stunned and confused at such a reply. Randall adjusts his chair and taps his pen on the table. A couple of others pull their bibles to them or unfold their hands. Most seem in general discomfort.

Randall speaks up, “Margot, you can only be saved once.”

Calmly, I smile at them all and start to explain.

“To be saved,” I begin, “is to admit that I am a sinner. Then, I must believe that Christ died for me and came back from that same death for me. Then, I must confess this belief that Christ is my Savior. Is that correct?”

Everyone around the table nods in agreement.

I continue, “I remember surviving a childhood illness that was so horrible the doctor said I would die. I remember hitting a telephone pole at seventy miles an hour and being spared from an early death. I remember missing a flight to Tucson only to find out the plane I was supposed to be on had crashed. I remember the tears in my husband’s eyes as he lovingly said his vows on our wedding day. I remember the birth of each of my healthy children. I remember the day I was able to lead my dying father to God before he drew his last breath. I remember the family that appeared in the grocery store parking lot one day needing food and I had two of everything in my bag because of a buy one get one free sale. I remember the look of gratefulness on their face when I handed them the food. I remember getting laid off at a job I hated only to get the job of my dreams a month later. I remember my bills getting paid even when I had no money. I remember never being hungry. I remember overcoming addiction. I remember the day my husband was killed and the comfort of my friends and family. I remember never being alone.” I pause and look around.

Then I continue, “Yes, I walked the aisle at age twelve and cried at the altar. I was saved that day. However, as I look back on my life and recall how God has been there every step of the way, I realize how thankful I am to Him for His presence. To recognize God’s presence in all circumstances is one thing but to be able to thank Him for His control in our lives is another. I have known God most of my life and many times I have been saved. So, when you ask when I was saved, I’ll tell you that it is about more than just one day.”

No one really knows what to say now and I imagine I’ll be all the talk in the parking lot after worship services today. None of it matters though because I rest assured that God has prepared for me a place in Heaven.

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