"There has to be more to life than this," I reflected while cleaning the ladies' room in the 30th Street Station in Philadelphia, PA. My job with the Amtrak cleaning department was a humbling experience. Enviously, I watched travellers coming and going. At least they appeared headed in a definite direction. The same could not be said about me.

My Terms

The religious pamphlets strewn here and there in the washroom were a nuisance. "Nobody is going to push religion on me," I resolved, blaming my cynicism on the hypocrisy of religious people I'd met. "Better to keep God at arm's length," I thought as I threw them in the garbage. I wanted God on my terms, in spite of drugs and the homosexuality I was involved in.

Eventually, being bored, I started reading the tracts. One in particular asked, "Do you know where you're going after you die?" I didn't have an answer. But, then, so what?

Stunned

Charlie, who was nearing retirement age, always greeted me kindly at work. One morning the elevator operator asked, "Did you hear about Charlie?"

"No," I gulped.

"Charlie died last night!"

I was knocked for a loop, remembering all too vividly the question to which I had no answer: Where will I spend eternity?

Reading tracts soon became the highlight of my day. I learned the identity of the woman who was leaving the tracts and agreed to place tracts on her behalf. "Am I not a hypocrite?" I asked myself, "lost in sin but sharing with others that JESUS SAVES."

I read the Gospel of Matthew in one sitting. What I remembered most was the scourging of Jesus Christ before His death on the cross. I cried when I understood what Jesus had suffered for me. I felt so unworthy and became convicted of my inability to stand before God.

Impossibility

"What must I do to be saved?" I asked a Christian friend.

Her answer came from the Bible, "Whoever calls on the name of the LORD shall be saved." (Acts 2:21)

"That sounds too easy," I argued.

"Maybe you're right, Denise," she agreed. "It is too easy - but it's all you have to do. Salvation is a gift. You can't earn it."

"But you don't know what I'm like. I can't even drive down the street without swearing at people. I can't measure up to what God wants of me."

"Neither can I," my friend interrupted. "I could not be a Christian on my own. That's why Jesus Christ had to die for us. The Bible says in 2 Corinthians 5:21, 'For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.' Call on Jesus to save you. Take God at His word. He cannot lie."

I picked up my broom. As I worked, I couldn't get her words out of my mind. "God cannot lie." To refuse God's free offer of salvation in Jesus Christ was like calling Him a liar. It was then that I chose to believe God's word. With broom in hand I prayed, "Jesus, I want You to come into my heart right now." And He did! I had peace with God.

Now I saw my homosexuality for what it was - not a lifestyle but a sin which deeply grieved the Lord Jesus. I had to turn my back on this sin. It was easier said than done. "How can you expect me to change?" I complained to God. "I don't know any other way." The devil tempted me, "Forget about God. He isn't worth all the trouble you're going through. Turn your back and give it up. You'll never change."

My Choice

A choice had to be made - one that would influence the rest of my life. It was then that I remembered Christ's death on the cross. Jesus could have easily turned back. Yet He went to Calvary out of His great love for me. "That's it," I declared. "There's no turning back for me either. I'm going to follow my Lord and Saviour."

Dear Friend: Today Denise is married and has a family. Jesus Christ has transformed her life. I encourage you to make the same choice she made and invite the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart and life.