When I was about 10 years old I went to a Christian camp named Camp Brea and . It was a standard camp experience. We camped in cabins, there was a lake, and it was in the middle of a forest. Trees surround the majority of the camp with the exception of the lake and a long building with dirt parking spaces. There was also a chapel among the trees.
One day towards the end of camp I was in the chapel, a service must have just finished. I was alone with one adult camp counselor. She and I sat on a bench and talked about Jesus. She asked me a few questions about faith and accepting Jesus. At the time everything made sense and Jesus seemed present. She guided me through a standard prayer and then we signed a paper that I could bring home with me. It was a confession of my faith; a sign that I decided to accept Jesus into my heart.
The paper was lost, along with the memory of what happened. I returned to my life and didn’t think anything else of that summer camp. It wasn’t until I was telling my testimony, after becoming a Christian that I even remembered that there once was a paper and the memory existed.
Looking back on my life
I see where God did intervene on my behalf. I could have gone down darker paths or have horrible accidents. There was a time when I was far from him, making wrong decisions, and living a life focused on fun. It was because of those wrong decisions and impurity that I was led to California where I eventually found God again and gave my heart fully and truly to Jesus.
In the end He was with me, even if I didn’t know it. Even when my life didn’t reflect Him, He was in the background waiting.