There have been, on occasion in my life, and I am sure in yours, certain moments in time when a word or group of words cannot be uttered. Oh, we may attempt to muster the effort – maybe even use facial expressions as a type of “visual aid,” but try as we might, words fail us from time to time! In my life it happened twice. My name is Lino Zarrillo, and this is my story.
My name is Corey Petroske, and this is my story. I was raised attending a United Church of Christ/Lutheran church, whose membership mostly consisted of middle-aged to senior-citizen Pennsylvania Dutch members. There were some other young kids, but they didn’t stay very long. So, obviously, I didn’t feel like I fit in.
My name is David Manohar, and this is my story. I was born and brought up in India. Though our family was not Hindu, I had many friends who were Hindus and one good friend who was a Muslim. I grew up in a church-going family, went to church regularly and was active in Sunday school and other church activities. I considered myself a good Christian and did not have any concerns about my spiritual condition.
My name is Jim Hall, and this is my story. I was never encouraged to read the Bible when I was growing up. My mother was very faithful in attending the Roman Catholic church. I attended the services with her until I began high school. Then I was allowed to choose for myself, whether I went to church or not. Since I saw no purpose for attending, I stopped going.
My name is Becky Fetterman, and this is the story of how God drew me and saved my soul. I was born into a Catholic family in Omaha, Nebraska. We always went to church. When I was quite young, I remember one service in particular when I felt “holy.” I thought it was a good feeling to have and that somehow by this feeling that I had felt God’s presence.
A business degree, a good job with advancement opportunities, continuing education at the company’s expense, a new sports car, travel, good friends, parties, a loving family, high morals, and faithful church attendance. This described my life until a dear friend shattered it with some truths from God’s word.
I was born on October 3, 1977, to Dan and Francine Cefola. From that moment, even though I didn’t know it, I was condemned to die. The reason is because about 6,000 years ago, the first man and woman disobeyed God and became what the Bible calls sinners. From that point on, this sin has been passed on to everyone who has ever been born.
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