I remember very clearly the day I was “saved”. I especially remember the drive back to my apartment with my then-girlfriend (now my wife). But more than anything I remember the week after I was dunked.
A church deacon came to me and asked me to take up some task in the church. This particular time it was to sit out in the parking lot during the service and make sure that the cars stayed safe. But the requests kept growing both in time and money required.
What it left me with was a feeling of betrayal. The entire time I visited that church as a pre-Christian I was told that I just needed to accept Jesus and everything would be good. Now I was being told that I also needed to donate to the church in addition to the 10% that God required me to give, join a class or even better teach a class, and help out with other tasks around the church. Worst of all I was told that I should do so happily because it was “for God”.
No. I felt lied to. I felt that they had told me of the simplicity while leaving out all the other works, the entire time telling me that works wouldn’t save me.
