I have no memory of becoming a Christian. I didnâ??t pray a prayer or walk an aisle or have a eureka moment. In fact, I donâ??t remember a time when I didnâ??t love the Lord Jesus. My Christian testimonyâ??the story of how I came to faithâ??is downright boring.
I was born in 1978 and raised in Connecticut by godly Presbyterian parents. I ate my peanut-butter sandwiches with a prayer of thanks, recited answers at bedtime from the childrenâ??s catechism, and the songs I remember my dad singing to me invariably were from either the Beatles or the hymnal.
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