Happy Birthday to ME?
OH! Look! It’s my birthday! I am a whopping 53 years old today, and I’m excited! Why? I don’t know, but probably because I’m alive.
Yes, 53 years have passed since I was born in Chattanooga, TN. A whole lot of water has gone under the bridge since then.
But just last night, as we were heading home from Waffle House – that’s where we went for my pre-birthday dinner, I noted that, in reality, I didn’t do anything to be recognized for; my mother did all the work! She, of all people, should be celebrated!
It was long overdue, but I said, “I didn’t do anything on my own to be born; it was YOU who made the choice to have me … thank you.”
It was then that my wife said, “Then maybe we should not buy you a birthday present, but get your mom something!”
Ummm, nice, but it doesn’t work like that.
The OTHER Birthday
But then there was another birthday: the day I was born again. And the interesting thing about THAT day is that once again, similar to my earthly birth, the credit really belongs to a parent – my dad.
On a Wednesday night in September, 1973, I realized that I was a sinner in need of a Savior. Unfortunately, although I was convicted of my lostness, I didn’t know what to do about it. That’s when my daddy, my godly father, took notice and asked me what was wrong.
“I’m not saved…I’m going to hell!” I said.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. I nodded.
Then, right in the middle of a song service at 34th Street Baptist Tabernacle, my dad I snuck off to a tiny Sunday school room with tiny tables and tiny chairs, and there he walked me through a classic “sinner’s prayer.”
I was gloriously and miraculously regenerated! I was born again! I was saved!
I can’t remember if I ever actually thanked him for that day, but because of that day I know I’ll get another chance.
Below is what is written in my dad’s tattered old Bible. My new-birth certificate 🙂
Thank you, Mom and Dad.