As a teenager I heard a sermon in which the guest speaker said she “didn’t believe in conversion experiences.” A friend who was with me tried to soothe my immediate ire by saying that the main point was that true Christians have a change in behavior.
Perhaps that is what the speaker meant, but I was deeply upset by her statement, and I could not articulate my reasons. I do so here, today. It is personal, and not something I have shared much, but I want you to know how important and real the love of Jesus is to me.
Not all conversion experiences look the same
It is important to note that despite how much this woman’s teaching disturbed me, I do not assume a Christian who cannot remember a specific moment of conversion is “not saved.” Perhaps they were too young to remember – my own father is one who accepted Jesus at such an early age.
Or perhaps they made a small and seemingly insignificant decision but did so in obedience and faith, and God worked in their hearts quietly until one day they realized they were wholly devoted to Jesus but didn’t remember the moment it started. I met someone on a mission trip whose love for Jesus began with the simple step of attending church one day.
Timothy is possibly a Biblical example of someone whose conversion either came very young or was the result of years of obedience (II Timothy 1:5).
But conversion experiences are real
That said, conversion experiences are a common feature in the stories of Biblical Christianity. Consider Peter and Andrew, who were called by Jesus to follow and immediately dropped their very livelihoods to walk with Him (Matthew 4:21-22). Or the prophet Samuel, who responded to God’s audible call when he was just a boy (I Samuel 3:1-10). Then there was the Philippian jailer and his entire household, who responded to the gospel presented by Paul and Silus with immediate repentance and gratefulness to God (Acts 16:31-34). And most notably, the Apostle Paul, who was literally knocked to the ground with the force of Jesus calling Him (Acts 9:4)
And those are just a small number of the Biblical conversion stories. To disbelieve in conversion experiences is to disregard a significant portion of the Scripture.
True Conversions Result in Changed Character
Regardless of whether conversion comes slowly and quietly or suddenly and with a thunderclap, true conversions are followed by a changed life. An emotional experience will be accompanied by external behavioral changes coming from an internally changed attitude, or the experience was nothing more than emotionalism masquerading as spirituality. This is stated explicitly in James 2:17: “Faith without works is dead.”
The simple truth is that loving Jesus changes us, and claiming to be “saved” because of a prayer at the altar one day is meaningless. What is meaningful is to fall in love with the Savior, to do so daily and ever more deeply, and to be transformed into his image as a result of the time we spend with Him.
And that is why I know my conversion experience was real, and why I was so bothered by the speaker so long ago. The moment at which a person turns in gratefulness to the Savior matters, because it is the start of a relationship with our Creator. The change is the evidence of an authentic encounter, and the encounter is real.
My personal testimony
I know that my “conversion experience” was authentic and valid. It was emotional, true, but even more God immediately changed me in a lasting way, and I am forever grateful. Further, He continues to change me, continues to call me to a deeper connection with Him.
Raised in a Christian home
I was raised in a loving, Christian home to parents who valued church community, serving others, hard work, and education. Some of my earliest memories include playing in the church nursery, sitting on my Sunday school teacher’s lap during the sermon, and giggling when the very tall pastor pretended to be Goliath and fell to the ground with a huge THUMP at the end of “only a boy named David”. At only 5 years old I sang “Jesus Loves Me” in front of the whole church. (Well, I was supposed to – I think I cried and I don’t remember if Mom eventually got me calmed down enough to sing.)
The point is that between church and the stories my parents read to me, I have known the Bible stories and believed in Jesus for as long as I can remember. But it was not a transformative faith; it was simply a child’s acceptance of her parents teaching, and while that can protect us from many evils in life, it is not a saving faith.
Torn by the sinfulness within me
Like many children, I had good qualities and bad. To this day my mother says I was a compliant and sweet-spirited child. Other adults also thought me sweet and obedient and helpful. Yes, I was well-behaved much of the time, but that was the innocence of a child, the blessings of an even-temperament, and the consistent and fair discipline of attentive parents. My sinful heart was not so sweet, and it was getting worse with age, not better.
I primarily struggled with anger and resentment, specifically toward the brother only two years younger than me. When I wasn’t angry with him, he was my best friend, and we played happily for hours. But I would often seethe with rage and resentment toward him for reasons I cannot even remember. What I do remember is the violence of my anger.
At my worst moment, we were alone in the upstairs hallway. I took him by the shoulders, barely touching the base of his neck, and shook him back and forth. Inwardly I fought a battle between how much I hated him and wanted to choke him and how much I knew it was wrong to hurt him. Fortunately, my conscience won out and I walked away, but I knew at that moment something inside me was broken, for this wasn’t the first time I had felt such things.
I was only 7 or 8 years old at the time, and I was afraid of my own anger.
The salvation prayer
One year – I think it was the summer before third grade – we went to a church family camp where we played and made friends and enjoyed entertaining children’s services. I must have had a great time because I have a lot of disjointed but happy memories of things like rope bridges and playing doctor and running down long trails.
But one memory stands out. The children’s service that day was a presentation of the gospel using colors in some way, and at the end they had an altar call.
I know what you are thinking… that I accepted Jesus into my heart this day in the classic child’s conversion story. But that’s not what happened.
I peeked during prayer and saw my brother down front, praying. I immediately realized he would go back to the cabin and tell mom and that HE would be the first one “saved”, not me. He would get all the attention and approval and I wouldn’t. And that was unthinkable.
So I made my way to the altar and “prayed,” copying the words of the leader’s prayer, but knowing full well I was just going through the motions. There was not a repentant bone in my body at that moment.
When my brother ran back to mom and dad to tell them his story in excitement, I ran hard to catch up, desperate to arrive when he did. He was ahead of me by only a few yards and blurted out his story – at which point I said, “me, too!” I felt a slightly guilty, but there was no way I could let my brother show me up. Still, I remember seeing my mom’s face and wondering if she could see right through me.
My brother’s conversion was real, and he started to treat me with more kindness after that day. That, of course, only made me resent him more.
Confronted with God’s love
But God knew exactly how to reach me. He had given me a love of and skill in reading that was far above average, to the point that when my parents grounded me, they took away my books, not my toys. My favorite books were “The Bible Story” books a set of children’s bible stories written for about 4th or 5th grade level. At some point I started from the beginning and just read straight through, for love of the stories, not love of God.
Some months after that children’s camp experience, on a warm summer Sunday with a perfect breeze, everyone in the house was taking a nap but me. I am not sure exactly how old I was, but I was alone in my room, which was a nice treat because I shared it with my little sister at the time. I was relishing the quiet and warmth and the coziness of my bed. And I was raptly reading my Bible story books.
That day I read several stories regarding Jesus’s last days, and then I reached the very familiar story of the crucifixion. My heart broke as I suddenly realized the enormity of Jesus love for me. I knew I had an ugly, sinful heart, full of anger and resentment. I knew that hiding it from my parents was deceit. And I knew the sin in me was scary and dark. The more I tried to stuff it deep inside me, the more it ate away at me.
I knew that the very ugliness of me was what God wanted to change. And I knew Jesus died so I could be changed. I wasn’t motivated by fear of Hell or by a desire to go to Heaven. I was a child who loved life and the sun and the sound of the wind in the tall pines. Nothing seemed more perfect than those afternoons of quiet reflection and peace, so no misty vision of the afterlife affected me.
No, I was overwhelmed by the fact that God could love me when He knew all the ugliness inside me. I was heartbroken that Jesus loved me so much that He died so He could fix my heart and let me know God. And as I sobbed and begged Him to forgive me, I didn’t “ask him to come into my heart”, as the childhood prayer often goes.
I begged Him to change me, to take away my anger and resentment, to clean it of anything that wasn’t worthy of Him, and to make me like Jesus. In that moment I committed the rest of my life to Him and asked Him to help me love Him like He loved me.
Changed by God’s love
And He changed me immediately. I was washed with the conviction and peace that God had forgiven me and that He loved me. I had a quiet joy that eclipsed the warmth of the summer sun. I was calm, and I just knew things were right between me and Jesus.
And the overwhelming rages I felt inside toward my little brother vanished. I did continue to get angry with him – very angry, even as a young adult. But I never again wanted to hurt him. I stopped hating him. It was just normal sibling stuff that with time and maturity we grow out of.
My mom has told me she knew when I became a Christian. I’m sure she saw the change in me. I suddenly loved Jesus myself, instead of just believing because my parents said it was true. I was happier and enjoyed my siblings more. And I was filled with the desire to tell others about Jesus.
Obviously, I didn’t become perfect that day, and I’m certainly far from sinless today. But I know that God is real, and I know that Jesus loves me, and I know that when I love Him something happens to me – I soften, become less fearful, less prideful, and more compassionate. God is actively at work in my life, and it did start with an authentic conversion experience.
So that is why I was so upset that someone could teach from the pulpit that she “didn’t believe in conversion experiences.” While I know not all altar prayers are authentic, and I know not everyone experiences a crisis moment like I did, I also know that being confronted with the love of Jesus can be highly emotional, and any confrontation with the love of Jesus changes a person.
I am not “saved” because I “asked Jesus into my heart.” I am safe in God’s keeping because His love reached down to me, and I answered in brokenness and gratefulness and love, and He started changing me.
God’s love is always transformative; it can never be separated from the call to holiness. And He calls all of us. He calls you.