“I Love to Tell the Story” was one of my mom’s favorite hymns, as it has been for me as well. Every time I hear it, I am reminded of the moment I received the message of salvation. Recently, I heard someone say something to the effect of, “Have you shared your salvation story?” While I often share the story of salvation made available to all mankind itself, I realized I have not shared my own story as much.
My story is forever entwined with my mother’s story. I am eternally grateful that God places the right people in our lives at just the right time. When I was around two or three years old, I became a “bus kid.” Well, I was not a church bus kid like one may imagine, but I am the result of faithful outreach. A Christian couple came to visit my parents at our house every week—to the point that Mom knew exactly when to expect them! Anticipating their arrival, she would go hide in a back room so she would not have to interact with them. One day, she finally gave in and told them that they could take me to church. I am not certain how long I went to church nor how that relationship ended. Being an “Army brat,” I can only presume it was because our family moved to Dad’s next service station.
Fast forward about eight years, and we were stationed in Germany. Mom’s boss had been witnessing to her, consistently telling her how good God is. At that point in her life, Mom was desperately working with officials to try to get her mother out of Vietnam. One day, she found herself saying, “God, if You are there, help me get my mother out. If You do, I will serve You the rest of my life.” Within a few short months, God began working miracles and opening doors; and against all odds, my grandmother was able to join us in Germany!
During that season in my life, I distinctly recall attending a church with my parents. I still remember the narrow stairwell that led up to the sanctuary. At the end of one service, I walked down the aisle, then a man prayed over me. I had decided to get saved, although I never uttered a prayer or fully understood what was happening.
Sometime later—weeks or maybe months—I was reading my Bible alone in my room and came across this passage in Romans 10:9-10: That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.
The Lord planted a thought in my mind. I do not remember ever uttering a word when I had gone forward in that church. I knew about Jesus. I believed in my heart that He had died for me, but now I knew I needed to tell God I believed Him. I needed to use my mouth! So, as a 10-year-old, I sat on the floor next to my bed and simply said the words, “I believe.” While I may not remember the actual date of this miracle or even the exact details, this I know: God saved me! A vivid image of this moment that I will forever cherish became permanently etched into my memory.
Whenever I hear others tell their salvation story with details about the day, date, or location, I do not get jealous. I rejoice because I can still see the image of that small bedroom, and I know without a doubt that God met me there in a way that is uniquely my salvation story.
Whatever your situation, God gave you a salvation story that is uniquely yours. Do not forget to tell it to others! The fourth verse of “I Love to Tell the Story” is a great reminder that those who are saved still long to hear how God has worked in others’ lives.
I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
‘Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.
— Kate Hankey, 1866
by Melissa Caperton