My exposure to the Gospel came in the form of glimpses. It seems that I have travelled along my life as if I were on a train, As I traveled I would occasionally pass a building with a well lit room. I would catch a glimpse of the light and the contents of the room. Sometimes these glimpses would scare me, sometimes confuse me and sometimes delight me.

The story of my life is set in the South. I started my life as a Catholic infant, my father was from a Catholic family and my mother became Catholic when they were married. In my preteen years I joined a Southern Baptist church. Now I'm a Presbyterian. Jesus caught me somewhere in the middle.

I have few memories of the Catholic church. I remember that we attended St. Barnabas church in Eastlake, the church where my parents were married. My only mental image of mass was kneeling beside the pew before entering and my mom thumping me on the head when I was too loud. I don't know if this was a fomative experience. I do know that my head hurts every time I pass St. Barnabas!

I don't know why we stopped going to the Catholic church. Eighty-fifth Street Baptist was two- blocks from my house and was the next town my train moved through.

Growing up in the Baptist church, I had many glimpses of the gospel. The preacher was faithful to talk about sin (it seemed mine in particular) and being saved. I walked down the aisle to be saved sometime in my preteen years. However, my understanding of the Gospel was small. Jesus died on the cross for my sin was all I new....not necessarily all bad!