I was probably about 10 years old, give or take, and was riding my trusty Schwinn bicycle around my small town just as I often did. I came upon several kids, also on their bikes, who were more or less just congregating in the middle of the road.

I immediately recognized some of the kids as “those kids” that attended the one and only Christian school in our small county. It was located just down the road from the public schools, but it may as well have been miles away. 

I barely knew of these kids, as they rarely interacted with the rest of us who went to the county school system. To me, they all dressed funny and seemed a bit strange.

Nevertheless, I stopped to see what was going on, as there were a couple of kids I was familiar with in the group.

I don’t remember much about the conversation that took place—except that the Christian school kids were talking about Jesus and Hell. These weren’t my favorite topics, but I was curious to hear what they were saying, so I tuned in.

These kids, who appeared younger than I was, were saying that it was necessary to accept Jesus so that you could be “saved” and to go to Heaven and avoid going to Hell. I believe they even quoted a few scriptures to back up what they were saying.

I’ll admit that I didn’t like the tone of the conversation at all. It was disturbing. My mom regularly took me to one of the local churches in town, but at that time I don’t believe I had ever heard this particular teaching about Jesus.

As I recall, at our church there was some talk about Jesus being the son of God, but there was little if any mention about accepting him as your Savior as the only means to get to Heaven.

To be honest, hearing what they had to say about the gospel scared me. I had always assumed I’d go to Heaven just based on the fact that I was a “good person” who went to church and recognized that there was a God. 

It completely turned my idea of life after death upside down. Was what they were saying true? Did I really need Jesus in my life?

After a few minutes, I left the small group and continued on my bike ride, trying to put the conversation out of my mind. 

However, I never forgot what those young kids had to say about Jesus and salvation. Their words stayed with me over the years, and as I got older, I became more and more convicted of my need for Jesus as my Savior and that just a belief that there is a God in Heaven wasn’t enough for me to get to Heaven.

Things culminated in later years. My mom and I had switched churches by this time, to one where faith in Jesus was regularly preached as a prerequisite for eternal life in Heaven. 

Finally, at the age of 15, I gave my life to Jesus. It took many years, but I finally came to a saving realization in the Lordship of Jesus and the necessity of repentance and giving my life to Him. 

However, it all started back on that street with that group of kids several years earlier. That meeting left an impression on me that I’ve never forgotten.

I’m grateful to God for planting that seed in my heart even at that young age. It took some time, but the seed kept growing and came to fruition years later.

Who knows where I would be without that chance encounter on the street that day?