I was very fortunate to live in a free country and to have parents that were Christians. My parents took me to church where the truth was taught. I was about 12 years old before I realized I was lost. I wanted to be saved; I would go to the altar when altar call was made; I tried to pray. The world had such a strong hold on me.
The nearest church, Maysville Missionary Baptist, about one-half mile from our house, was to have a revival about mid October. Before and after school and at night, I would try to pray. I wanted to know, “what could I do?”. I know now, keep praying. I was eighteen, and about to graduate from high school. Senior trips were coming up. I wanted to enter college and be in Air Force ROTC. But, my greatest desire was to be saved.
It was Wednesday night of the second week of revival. I believe I had been to the altar every night. It seemed as if I didn’t get saved this revival, I never would. Almost everyone thought it would break that night, and it did. Three of us boys, all about the same age, were on the little short altar. I was in the middle. Brother W. T. “Willy” Taylor was the pastor; Brother W. T. “Bill” Shockley was the helper. Brother Bill was on the floor on my left, praying for me. He was pleading and begging for me. It seemed at first, it was Jesus, Bill and me. Then it was just Jesus and me. I saw myself, as I was – not worth a handful of dirt, no hope, not worth saving. I said, “Lord, I can’t live like this.” I couldn’t; the load was so heavy; I was so loaded down with guilt. Shame, death and hell would have been justice. I was given mercy instead. When I regained consciousness, I was under the altar, praying, but not for me. Instead, I was praying for the only person I really despised, that The Lord would save him. He was on the altar there, and all my mind was on him. The service and revival ended about this time.
I don’t remember speaking a word to anyone, anyone at all, or anyone speaking to me. I always thought if the revival had continued one more night, that I would have told. It seems as if I just floated down the road home. My feet didn’t seem to touch the ground more than two or three times. All my family was in bed when I got home. I had gone to church by myself. They were not members there, and they thought the meeting would break. Mom asked me the next morning, “how was service”? I said, “it broke”. I thought, later on that same day that I should have told her, “The Lord Saved Me”. I didn’t tell for eight years. These were eight wasted miserable years. Even now, it makes me so ashamed to think I actually did that.
The gift of salvation is the greatest thing anyone can ever receive in this world, no matter how young or old they are. I know I will never be able to thank Jesus enough – not here, but if possible, through out all eternity.
Wm. E. Shockley
Scottsville, Ky.
