Other editions of book Your Salvation is Jesus' Passion

Nervousness that usually accompanies on-the-fly decisions resulted from twelve year old Jeremy’s addressing his curiosity. Every day as he walked home from football practice, he’d hear the most beautiful piano music emanating from a two-story bricked house. He’d look up the hill from the pavement as he passed, wondering…who can play that way? One day, he had had enough. Instead of passing in front of that house, he decided to find out for himself who was playing the music. Walking half way up the steps, Jeremy realized that the music stopped. Chickening out, he checked himself. No good, dude. Get out of here fast! But when his feet hit the pavement below, the music started up again.Then Jeremy decided that he’ get to the bottom of this music now for sure—and resolutely walked all the way up to the porch—not stopping until he rang the doorbell. Waiting…feeling like an idiot…he shuffled his feet back and forth in front of the door. Suddenly the door opened. Jeremy jerked his head toward the open door only to face the scowl of a Black woman! “Um,” Jeremy said. Then his feet shuffled himself back and forth some more. What’s wrong with you, dude? Say something! He breathed out a big sigh looking into the woman’s brown eyes. What are you looking for, dude, her forgiveness? She broke the awkward silence with, “May I help you?” But her face wasn’t at all kind. She was MAD! Jeremy stuck out his arms, palms up trying to explain, “I hear the most awesome music.” Peeking inside, he continued, “Is that your piano?” He pointed to baby grand, and his smile lit up his who face.All Rita noticed were his striking blue eyes. Unable to prevent her heart from melting, she figured that there is a reason this young White guy with red hair rang her doorbell. She determined to discover out why. “What is your name, and what is your story?” She demanded, crossing her arms across her chest waiting for his reply.“Uh, my name is Jeremy. But I don’t have a story,” he said looking into her eyes and raising his eyebrows.“But of course you do! Everyone has a story, Jeremy,” she stated flatly. Remembering his raised eyebrows motivated her to learn more. “Why not come into my parlor, Jeremy,” opening her door wide. “My name is Rita. Now we’re friends.” Jeremy stalled, nervously glancing to his right and left. Why not, he figured, and stepped one foot across her threshold. No turning back now! Neither Jeremy nor Rita would change the meeting that altered their destiny that day. But what fun both had after that day!