By Aimee Anderson

This is my salvation story. My life as a 14-year-old heathen looked like this:
I drank alcohol. I smoked cigarettes. I smoked pot. I had a foul mouth. I had boyfriends. Alcoholism and divorce were in my extended family. Verbal abuse was prevalent in my home on a daily basis. The only thing I kept was my virginity.

Following two years of seed planting by my grandparents and numerous prayers to the throne of grace on our behalf, my sister and I accepted an invitation to move to California to live with my grandparents.  They were baby Christians and had the zeal of the Apostle Paul. They went on their own “missionary journeys” all over the United States to visit our family members and tell them about Jesus. They were desperate to see the whole family saved from hell’s unending torture. My family and I considered them Jesus Freaks. All they talked about was being “born again.”

We knew we would have to go to church, listen to “Jesus” music, and hear my grandparents preach to us, but we were sick of the snow in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and we just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to Disneyland or to see the ocean.

Calvary Chapel Palm Springs was different than I had expected. The priest didn’t wear a robe and the people were weird, raising their hands during the music. I have no idea what the pastor preached about that day, but at the end I accepted an invitation he gave to receive Jesus, not fully understating what I had done.

After two years of hearing that we “must be born again,” I was excited to finally be “born again.” I thought it was a new thing in California, and I got it! Much to my surprise, I later found that there were Christians in Green Bay too!

It wasn’t until three months later that I could sense the conviction of the Holy Spirit regarding my sin. As I said, “Oh my God!” in my usual flippant and loud manner (with a very annoying Wisconsin accent), my heart was pierced, and I realized at that moment that I was using the Lord’s name in vain. This was my God whose name I was saying in a not-so-nice manner – crude, in fact. It was then that I understood my sin and my need to be forgiven.

The work of God is like a pebble dropped in a still body of water; hence, the “ripple effect.” God gave this picture to my grandfather regarding his conversion. God told him that because of his salvation, the gospel would reach many, many people.

My Papa is now in heaven, probably telling stories to my three babies and debating with the saints of old. I can imagine him worshipping God with his wonderful voice. It was Papa who taught me many hymns as we conducted church services every Sunday afternoon in a nursing home when I was 18. He would sing and I would play the guitar.

I will be eternally grateful to this man who risked offending all of us to share the love of Jesus with us. Through him, other family members have embraced the forgiveness and love of Jesus Christ. My father (Papa’s ex son-in-law) is now a missionary to the ends of the earth. He ministers to the underground church in China, to orphans in Myanmar, to persecuted Christians in Nigeria, and to victims of the Asian tsunami that hit last December.

The ripple effect continues.

(Originally published in The Seeds of Life, Seasonal 2005 edition – a publication of Calvary San Diego Women’s Ministry.)

< Prev		Next >