Walked with Jesus

Around the age of 12, I became interested in Jesus. I had heard of him my whole life, having come from a Christian background. However, I was “introduced” to him in a teenage Sunday School class. I honestly cannot remember the circumstances of what was said to me, nor what was happening. All I remember is the feeling of “connecting” with his presence.

He wasn’t at all the way I had imagined he would be. He was like a real person, and the coolest thing was that he really enjoyed talking!

I will admit I was lonely as a teenager. I didn’t consider myself to be very good looking and I definitely wasn’t “cool” or “with it.”

My closest sister at that time was one year younger than myself. She had joined a very tight clique of girls, once she entered high school. I was more of a loner. There were the occasional boy friends and girl friends, but I never had a close friend growing up. My sister had been my friend. We had been almost like twins.

I wondered if my sister was embarrassed to know me, because she seemed to avoid me as much as possible at school. I now see she probably was just enjoying a normal teenage peer group experience. Once the bus took us to high school, she didn’t know me. On our way home from high school, she would know me again. But it seemed to me that we were drifting apart, and I missed her. The one thing we did share fully was The 4-H Club, when we each had our own sheep to raise, breed, and take to the fair. And that was quite a fun thing.

At that age, I loved to read and draw. Eventually I saved enough money from baby-sitting and cleaning neighbor’s homes, to buy myself a horse and saddle. I loved to spend weekends riding into the unknown, all by myself.

At home things weren’t too bad. But it was very lonely walking the corridors of high school, going from class to class.

Once in awhile I would think about Jesus. And it was interesting that every time I did that, I could “feel” his presence near me. It was as if he were walking with me between my classes.

Sometimes he took my hand. Other times we had conversations. This was all secret, of course, and no one else ever knew. It was special, and it was all very nice. I honestly cannot remember much of what was said.

I had learned in Sunday School that Jesus would come to us whenever we most needed him. All we had to do was Ask.

He was pretty cool. He seemed youngish and modern, although he looked quite like his pictures. He wore a beard and had long dark hair. His robe was a natural white linen kind of fabric. He wore sandals and he was Jewish. I LOVED him. And I will say that I have had a special fondness for Jewish people, ever since.

His voice was soft-spoken, yet he loved to talk and even tell jokes. He was an excellent listener, always understanding. There was an edge of Excitement to everything he did. It was as if he were Eager to come to me, and couldn’t wait. There was an Intensity to this quality in him. He also had a way of turning things that were sad into happy thoughts, showing them in a different light. He was very ALIVE.

I remember walking from class to class, slowly taking my time, because we were together. Once we had arrived, Jesus would smile and open the door for me. Then he would leave.

This was the Jesus I knew and walked with.

I have never really told anyone this whole story before.

He wasn’t someone sad and suffering.

He was full of Joy, Love, and Anticipation. His Love and Joy kept me going. It was just what I needed. He was and always will be, My Friend.

If I were to try and remember something Jesus told me long ago, it would be something like this: