My journey as a disciple of the Lord Jesus began when I was 15. I had been a rather devout churchgoer, following my mother’s Methodist tradition, and I and my siblings were taken regularly to Sunday School from the time we were toddlers. Also, I had been educated at Wesley College, the only Methodist school for boys in Sri Lanka, where I enjoyed the weekly lessons on Scripture.
But by the time I reached my teens an awful realisation began to dawn on me. Despite my best efforts and genuine respect for biblical truth, I found that I was no match for the power of temptation and sin that exercised such control over me. Along with this I discovered that I was increasingly afraid – afraid of people’s opinions, afraid of my own weaknesses, afraid of the future, and greatly afraid of death.
Brotherly love
I now know that during those two years God was preparing me, first to sense my own desperate need for deliverance, but also to treasure the experience of his grace when I finally opened my heart to receive his offer of so great a salvation. It happened quite uneventfully one afternoon.
