The Alabama Sunday School teacher kept saying to me every Sunday without fail -- "When are you gonnacceptjesusasyourlordandsavior" (all run together as one long word). I guess he wanted to ring up one more twelve-year-old toward a star in his crown of glory. Finally, my mom approached him at church and said "I have a bone to pick with you." After her little talk, he never tried to "get me saved" again. Thanks, Mom.
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