On Ellen’s fourth birthday, she received a Children’s Bible from her parents. Looking through it, even though she couldn’t yet read, she appreciated how Jesus’ words stood out in red ink. She lingered on the colour prints of Jesus’ passion and resurrection. Her fingers traced the outlines of his guileless face, his outstretched hands.
Up until now, he had mostly been an imaginary friend, a name in a song . . . Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are weak and He is strong. She’d learned in church that Jesus was the Saviour of the world and someday he would come and sweep everyone up into the sky and they’d all fly with him to heaven.
She lay in bed thinking about all this, her belly full of sweet cake. She pictured the streets deserted, her own house echoing with the absence of her parents, and shivered. The Children’s Bible lay on her night table.
Then three shadows entered her bedroom.
Sauntering to her side, Keanan asked in a muffled voice, “Do you like your new Bible?”
“Yes,” Ellen whispered.
“Did you see the pictures of Jesus on the cross?” hissed Bonnie, creeping up behind Keanan. “And rising from the dead?”
“Uh huh.”
“You better ask Jesus to come into your heart right now, Ellen,” moaned Charlie, nervously. He put his hand on one of her knees, squeezing.
“Why?”
“If you don’t ask Jesus into your heart and get saved . . .” Keanan took a slow breath.
“You’ll go to hell!” finished Bonnie. Even in the darkness, there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
“I will?”
“Yeah, it’s hot and fiery and the devil lives there. He has horns and a tail.”
“Yeah, you could even go to hell tonight if you died while you were sleeping!” Charlie gulped. His eyes were shining with tears. His beloved Ellen, gone to hell.
Ellen wasn’t sure if going to hell would be any worse than not getting to live past four years old. She already liked being four.
“Don’t you want Jesus in your heart?” sneered Bonnie.
“Well,” said Ellen. “Sure I do.”
“You have to say this prayer to get him in there. To get saved from hell,” said Keanan eagerly.
“Okay.”
The three older siblings intoned: “Dear Jesus – ”
“Dear Jesus – ”
“I repent for all of my sins –”
“I repent . . . what’s repent?”
“It’s sorry, you’re sorry!” Bonnie snapped. “Just say it.”
“I repent for all of my sins –”
“Please come into my heart –”
“Please come into my heart –”
“And live in me –”
“And live in me –”
“And take me to heaven when I die.”
“And take me to heaven when I die.”
“Amen.”
“Amen.”
Without much in the way of congratulations, Keanan and Bonnie crept out. Charlie stayed behind, taking Ellen’s hand.
“It’s so good you have Jesus in your heart now, Ellen! You’re saved from hell! And when Jesus comes back, you’ll get to go and live in heaven forever and ever, like me and Bonnie and Keanan and Mom and Dad.”
When he’d gone, Ellen turned over and smiled a small smile. She began to think of Jesus, her special friend, her saviour. It made her feel warm.
And wouldn’t you know it, I watched as Jesus joined her right then. Often he waits until a person is a bit older and less coerced by the fear of eternal damnation. But here was this little streak of red flame, darting in between Ellen’s narrow shoulders, playing around her heart and her face. He did not say anything; he rarely needs to. My invisible holy spirit bird is the one who does most of the cajoling and worrying.
Ellen felt her heart swell. She pressed her hands to her chest, feeling us there. She smiled a secret smile.
Within a few months, of course, she’d almost completely forgotten about the magical prayer on the night of her fourth birthday. She was busy with other things.
To me, however, Ellen’s decision to invite Jesus into her little heart was the first significant step she’d taken towards knowing the source of her life. And even though I was aware that she would run away, slip, fall, and break, many times over, I trusted Jesus enough to hope he’d help me bring her back where she belonged.