Robin/AZ
Tears Falling On My Feet
I came to know the Lord at the age of eight. I had a friend whose father was a pastor and went to church and did the invitation and I felt changed. My mom bought me a Bible and I was an avid reader and I was reading my Bible and so I was very close to the Lord early on in my life… for a few years.
However, the world happened and some traumatic things happened to me so it turned out that I parted ways with my parents. You know, we had a mutual parting of the ways at the age of fourteen. It was mutual. I was on my own for awhile.
And then, eventually I came back to live with them because I knew it was time and they had invited me and I needed to rest. I had been into some deep and dark things and I just needed to rest.
Now, while I was gone my Dad had become a Christian and that was what gave me the green light to go home. He was the type of father that was distant. He wasn’t there for us. He wasn’t a happy person.
So here’s the thing, I moved back with my parents and it was lovely. They had been going to a church in Anaheim, CA called Melody Land which days gone by was a huge night club converted into a mega church, a theater in the round - a circle. So I started going to Melody Land with them because, how nice, my Dad wanted to go to church. Celebration!
Well, the church would regularly give an alter call after every service. That was their policy and I was fine with it. I knew I knew the Lord so I was confident in my conviction and I knew my Mother knew the Lord and my Dad was coming along.
However, after every service I was starting to get the most uncomfortable feeling, a tightening in my chest, very unsettling. I had never had that before. Why now? And it was only during the alter call. Only during the alter call. It did not happen at any other time.
But the pain kept getting stronger. The first time I ignored it but I could no longer avoid it and so I argued with the Lord saying, “I know you and you know me and I don’t need to go and make a scene. And I don’t want to.”
This was going on for over a period of weeks. Every Sunday I would dread going to church wondering, “Will it happen again during the alter call?”
It got to the point where it was so intensely painful that I was gripping the chair. It was so very painful - my heart. It was as if it was getting squeezed. I was gripping the chair and the perspiration was starting to show and it became clear to me that I was suppose to go down there, down the aisle to the circled stage, a long walk that was very public. Maybe somewhere around 1200 to 1400 people watching.
So I am gripping this chair and saying to myself, “I don’t need to. I don’t have to.” But yet the pain was intense to the point that I knew if I didn’t go I would die. I would just die, I would explode.
“I cannot take this pain! What is the big deal?! All you have to do is to walk down there,” that is what I was thinking.
I was finally willing. Finally just to rid myself of the pain I did it. I was pulled. I ran. I ran just to stop the pain. And I did the prayer. I am on my knees and it’s all good and worshipping.
I felt someone gripping my feet. I thought that was odd. Why would someone grab my feet? I was on my knees so it was possible, but why?
I turned around and there was my Father holding on to both my feet and crying and praying to the Lord and tears! Tears were flying and I had never seen my Father cry. Not ever, not ever in his life and I knew at that instance that that was why I had to go to the alter because he would never have gone if I had not gone first. It was not for me, it was for him.
It was a wonderful, beautiful moment. Yeah! it was Christ pulling me towards that alter. I did not see Christ but I certainly felt Him.
story submitted September 2025
