By A Heartbroken Mother

Three months ago, I sat in a courtroom and heard a judge say, Twenty years! He was pronouncing sentence on my 2l -year-old son, a punishment for drinking, gambling and robbery, which ended in the shooting and near-death of a man. The sentence might have been less, but my son had a defiant attitude all through the trial, ridiculing every law officer who spoke to him. But the drowning, shocking climax came when the judge asked, “Young man, dont you believe in God?” My son Laughed aloud as he said, “God? Whos that?”

Every eye in the courtroom turned and looked at me, [went to Sunday school when [was small and had learned all about God. After I married, decided to go again and take the children, but could not persuade my husband to go; but the children and I went regularly for a year. Then I skipped two or three services and then went only on special times. Soon I joined a recreation team and competed on Sunday afternoons. I couldnt go to church and get ready in time to play and sports was so much fun. If only I had those years to live over!

Night after night since that court trial, I have walked the floor with the words, “God?, Whos that? in my ears. When I think of the wasted years of having fun instead of meeting God at his appointed place, Lam sick with shame, am trying to make restitution by urging other people to go. So many say they do not believe in making a child go to church if he doesnt want to go. But how many would go to school f they were not made to go Ask any child that question.

Guardian of Truth XXXVII: 9, p. 11
May 6, 1993