I have always been a deep thinker, possibly too serious at times. One of my earliest memories is attending a funeral with my Granny. I am unsure of my age but I was quite young.
I have no idea who had died. My Granny and I discussed my “funeral memory” years afterward, trying to figure out who the deceased could have been, but she had no idea. She didn’t remember taking me to a funeral.
One thing I do know, the funeral was my introduction to death. My mind could not comprehend such a thing. From that day on, I carried a question within me. “Why do we live only to die?” Life seemed futile and a depression settled inside me that I couldn’t shake.
When I was 6 years old, something happened that changed everything. My parents began going to church and gave their lives to Jesus. The night they were baptized in water, I sat on the arm of a church pew, stretching to see their public confession of faith. I still had some unanswered questions, but a peace came into my life. Death had lost its sting. I learned of heaven and everlasting life.
I am thankful I met Jesus at a young age. I didn’t grow up questioning the meaning of life and death. He gave this deep thinker joy and peace.
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