a meaningless walk down the aisle

I was born on March 8th, 1941 in Malakoff, Texas to Claude and Della McEntire. I was the second of five children. As small children, we did not go to church very often. From time to time someone would pick us kids up and take us to church. My first memory of attending church was when daddy was in the Navy during WW 2. Mom and us three older children were living in a small apartment in Malakoff and a lady by the name of Mrs. Carson would pick up us kids and take us to Sunday School and church. Mom would go to church when she had the chance. My mother didn't drive so when she went, she had to depend on someone else, or dad would have to take her, which he wasn't inclined to do. My dad would go on occasion, maybe five or six times a year. I didn't go to church very often as a child. In 1953, my dad bought a sixty-acre farm in the Cross Roads community and us kids began attending on a more regular basis. While we lived on the farm I received my driver’s license, and from that time on I have been in church on a regular basis. 

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One Sunday morning, my Sunday School teacher’s dad was visiting our church from out of town. He was a preacher and was asked to preach that morning. During the invitation, my Sunday School teacher came to my brother and I, and encouraged us to walk the aisle. We followed her advice and talked to the preacher. I'm not sure what was said. He could have led us in the sinner’s prayer. I'm just not sure. I am sure of one thing. When I went back to my pew and sat down I was just as lost as when I went down the aisle. 

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I am reminded of 2 Corinthians 5:17 - Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. The same old creature that walked down the aisle was the same old creature that went back to the pew and sat down. I didn't even have the pretense of being saved. I was doing something I thought would please my Sunday School teacher and that was my only reason for walking the aisle. Instead of calling it a false profession, I call it a fake profession. I am not putting any blame on my Sunday School teacher or the preacher. They did what they thought was right. It was my decision. 

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For the next four years, I continued to attend church on a regular basis. Each time the preacher would preach on hell, I would become very uncomfortable, maybe the correct word would be scared, because I knew the profession I had made was fake. It was in August of 1958, four years later in the same church, during a revival, I accepted Christ as my savior. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe the visiting preacher's name was Bro. Barton. I don't recall what he preached on that night. The whole week, during the invitation, a group of us young people would get together at the back of the church and pray for the revival. It was that night, I came to realize if I died, I would spend eternity in hell. It was then I repented of my sins and received Christ as my Savior. Luke 13:3 says, I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish. Two verses later the same words are repeated, I tell you, Nay: but except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish. If you have never repented, then you have never been saved. After this, when I heard a sermon on hell, I just thanked God He has delivered me from that awful place. I have been saved ever since. 

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I’m not sure why that night? There was a boy in my class at school a few years earlier who was killed in an accident. Another boy that was a year older than me was killed in a shooting accident at about the same time. I have thought many times during my life about how young they were and how that could have been me. I'm not sure if I was thinking about these two young men that night, but I did realize if it had been me I would have been burning in hell at that very moment. 

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The story does not end there; I was in a dilemma. I had walked the aisle just four years earlier and I was afraid of what people would think. Because of pride I made the decision to make my profession public later. Little did I know that it would be over five years later. It was one of the most miserable five years of my life. I married when I was twenty-one years old. It was about 1 or 2 years after, while we were living in Houston, and attending Cottage Grove Baptist Church, that I once again walked the isle and told the Pastor Bro. Mark Whittington, I needed to be baptized.

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At the age of 82, a verse has become very special to me. Psalms 37:25 - I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor His seed begging bread. 

 

Another verse has become special to me in this past year. 2 Corinthians 12:9 Jesus speaking to Paul said, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Almost five years ago I was diagnosed with early stages of Alzheimer’s. The Dr. has me on medication and I seem to be doing very well. I have no idea what the future holds, but as the song writer puts it, “I know who holds tomorrow.” One thing I have learned in life, is whatever life brings God’s grace is sufficient. 

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Thank you, Jesus, for saving my soul and for your grace.

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My name is Jim McEntire, and this is MY story.