The pastor had them turn off the lights in the tentorium. He told the story of the night — the story that could make all fear death. The story of immediate death. For a 9 year old that isn’t scary, that is petrifying. To know what a group of people fell into the open earth the same night they may or may not have given their lives to Jesus Christ. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had learned enough, my parents taught me enough. I walked up to the front right after my brother did, was taken to the back and told to sign my name up for baptism.

Was that okay? For fear to be the motivating factor in not wanting to wait any longer? I was going to wait until I got over my fear of large bodies of water, but then a greater fear took over — the fear of eternal death.