I was brought up in a Christian family and I have always believed there was a God and that Jesus loved me.
When I was thirteen I went to a camp in Bala. While I was there I realised that I was not a Christian. I prayed that Jesus would save me and he did.
After that time I struggled to know whether I was really a Christian or not. I lacked any sense of assurance. Then one year, in camp, one of the youth leaders from my church, Tricia, was with us and she asked me straight if I was a Christian. I told her I wasn’t sure. I didn’t feel as if I was. I was expecting something fantastic to happen to me and it hadn’t.
Tricia directed me to some verses in John 10, “my sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me and I give them eternal life and they shall never perish, neither shall anyone snatch them out of my hands.” We were out in the fields looking up at the sheep and these lovely words about how Jesus cares for me and how he will never let me go, were so real and fantastic.
At that moment, I knew I was a Christian. I was reassured that I was God’s and he wouldn’t let me go.
My Christian life is sometimes hard, but I want to give God thanks for my Mum and Dad who spend time with me teaching, guiding and praying for me and with me, and for my grandparents who have also prayed and encouraged me in my faith.