Toronto, Ontario, Canada
I grew up in a Christian home, meaning that both of my parents were saved and knew the Lord Jesus as their Saviour before I was born. I was taken to the Mimico Gospel Hall in Toronto from a few weeks of age and grew up in the Sunday School. I listened to the gospel being spoken every Sunday evening. But none of that fit me for Heaven.
I had learned in the Sunday School and the Gospel that I was a sinner and was headed for Hell; I knew that the Lord Jesus had come to this earth, was taken by men and beaten, and nailed to a cross and left to die; I knew that God had punished His Son for three dark hours on the cross for my sin. But you can know all the facts and not be saved. This was my case.
I was a real procrastinator. I always wanted to be saved, but always put it off to another time. When I finally did get down to it, I tried, and tried to be saved; I prayed a prayer. But nothing I could do would save me. It was only faith in what the Lord Jesus had done on the cross to take away my sin that would do.
It was during the 1990 Seneca Series in Toronto that I finally realized this. David Oliver and Gene Higgins were the speakers that year. On that Saturday night I don't know what their messages were but I do remember the one illustration Mr. Oliver used. It is one that I had heard many times before, but this night it spoke to me. A bird takes one grain of sand in its beak from the Atlantic ocean, and it flies all the way over to the Pacific Ocean and drops the grain of sand. It then flies back to the Atlantic and repeats the task. When all of the sand has been moved from the Atlantic to the Pacific, Eternity has just begun. I went home that night and started thinking about how long eternity really was. Then I thought, what would it be like to be in Hell for eternity. The thoughts I had that night scared me. I knew I needed to be saved but at that moment, I also realized that nothing I could do could save me. I just rested on what the Lord Jesus had done at Calvary and asked Him to be my Saviour.
I didn't wake up the next morning with a great feeling inside; the grass wasn't any greener, the sun didn't shine any brighter. And I had doubts. For two years I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to make a false profession. But I was finally helped to see that feelings didn't matter, that we will have doubts. But it is only the work of the Lord Jesus, His death for us, that matters.