The year was 1947. I was nine. My family had moved to a neighborhood around the block from North Jackson (Tennessee) Baptist church two years earlier. That's where my parents sent me. Dad was unsaved, Mom was inactive. I loved going there. Lots of schoolmates were there, and the adults sort of adopted me.
I heard a bunch of Sunday School lessons, a bunch of sermons. I heard about sin, heaven and hell. Went to revivals, heard more of the same.
One Sunday morning, something happened. All those sermons came crashing in on me. I know now that the Holy Spirit opened my eyes, convicted me of my sin and its consequences. Frankly, it scared me to death. I was a sinner, under condemnation.
The Spirit reminded me all those invitations to repent, to trust Christ, to turn to Him for salvation. Now they applied to me. Down the aisle I went. My pastor asked me some questions to determine my understanding of what was going on. He concluded that this was a genuine conversion experience.
That was the day the Lord saved me. All I know is that he changed me.
It was all His work. He illuminated my mind, convicted my heart, regenerated my soul, drew me to Himself, and motivated me to repentance and faith in Him.
That was 67 years ago. I'm still a work in progress.
By the way, my mother joined that church the day I was baptized, and became active. The Lord saved my father a year later.