The Very Place


So he built an altar there to the Lord, who had appeared to him. – Genesis 12:7


Every few years or so, I like to go and visit a very special place.  When I was a teenager, I heard the gospel preached in a way that I understood, and in a way where I was very convicted.  I chickened out on getting saved because all my friends were in the room surrounding me.  I was absolutely terrified to go to sleep that night without being saved.  I called my youth pastor and he picked me up and drove me to Stamp Creek Landing in Salem, SC.  If you pull around the loop and stop where you can see the big tree closest to the lake on your right, you are in the very spot that I gave my life to God.


Yesterday, I was hanging out with my little man . . . well, not so little anymore.  Anyway, I took him to Pat’s Cash & Carry for possibly one of the best hot dogs in the southeast.  I told him that when I taught at Salem, I came here all the time.  Of course, he loved the hot dogs and thought it was a really cool place.


Then, I drove him to the landing.  We parked at the very place my youth pastor parked 28 years ago.  I told him that I can’t imagine where I’d be right now had I never called my youth pastor and asked him to come and get me.  I told him there is no way I’d be the dad that I am now. I told him that it didn’t really seem like anything great happened to me, but it was like a new birth.  I had hit reset and started growing up all over again.  I started a new spiritual journey where I began to actually know God.  Looking back now, I can honestly say that He has done so much in my heart, mind, and life.  I don’t even want to think what life would have been like without Him.


My little man just said, “I’m sure glad you came here all those years ago.”


“Me too, man.”


“Me too”


About wednesdaymorningdevotional

I am just a nobody from Salem, South Carolina. I have been a math teacher now for 23 years. I have been publishing devotionals every Wednesday morning for about 10 years now. Thanks for stopping by.
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