#1 of 1,000 Ways to God – Meet Julie Wells

Meet Julie Wells. I’ve known her for 30 years. Below is her story. Before you read, I thought we’d throw together a small intro video. She’s an amazing Woman of God with a powerful voice! Most importantly, her “way” to God is authentic. The Truth is in her story.

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I grew up in a family of ministers. Yes, a family!  My grandfather was the founding pastor of our church and several others.  My grandmother was his greatest ally in that she sang, played piano, gave unsolicited exhortation, and was an integral part of their daily radio program. My Dad became the pastor of our church, and my Mother was a solid foundation for my Dad.  It wasn’t uncommon for newcomers to ask my Mother, “So, what do you do? Sing? Play the piano?”  To which, my mother would respond, “No. I don’t do any of those things. I minister to my husband, so he can minister to you.”

On Monday mornings, my family would gather at my grandparent’s house for a huge breakfast. It was like a Monday morning meeting, and the family would discuss what things were going good in the church, and talk about how to improve or handle certain situations…all of this over homemade biscuits and gravy of course.  Sermon topics were thrown around and, naturally, friendly debates about scripture. Sprinkle all of this with minister’s conventions, youth camps, Sunday school, children’s choir and what you have is a very clear “way” to God. “Jesus Only”….that’s what we called ourselves.  Sometimes we would use this phrase in lieu of a distinct denomination.  “Jesus Only” means that we believe Jesus is the only way to God. So, I knew from a very young age how to get to God.

On Sunday evenings, I would scurry out of my pew and get to my grandmother as soon as she would leave the platform from playing the piano.  I loved sitting with her because she always had a pillow and a blanket underneath her pew.  She would make a bed for me on the front row!  Even though I was entirely too big to be wallering around like that, she let me lay there.  I think she felt sorry for me that I spent so many hours at church on Sunday with school starting early on Monday. I would sleep during the sermon, but always wake up for the alter call because I had a great seat for an interesting show! In our non-denomenational, spirit-filled church, one never knew just how interesting the show might become.  People might rejoice with dancing, spinning, and hopping.  Or they might weep with great emotion and bury their heads into the carpet. On more exhilarating nights, worshippers would raise their hands, speak in tongues, and get slain in the spirit, in which the worshipper is so overwhelmed by the Spirit of God that they fall to the ground and may lay there for quite some time.

As I grew, the Spirit of the Lord began to beckon to me as I watched how people responded to His presence.  I was open to it because I was comfortable. Comfortable in the church, comfortable with the people, and certainly comfortable with the ministers. So, on one particular Sunday, I felt the presence of the Lord so strongly.  Many times I had heard the “sinner’s prayer” repeated in church, but I had never been so strongly impressed to accept Jesus.  I’m sure I may have prayed the prayer before, maybe in Sunday school or in church as a corporate body.   But on this night, I felt a strong drawing to the altar.  So, I left my front-row bed and followed the pure love tugging my 5-year old heart. I knelt at the altar like a big girl, and started to think in my mind what I should do now that I was kneeling there.  I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard my grandmother’s voice asking me if I wanted to receive Jesus as my Savior.  I shook my head “yes”, which seems like an automatic response, but my heart was connecting with God as I was feeling Him with understanding for the first time. I felt loved, I felt special, I felt safe, I felt comforted, I felt confident….I felt the way.  Her comforting voice said, “Just like you have doors on your heart, Julie, open the door and let Jesus live inside.”

Fast forward twenty-four years.  The year is 2002.  My grandmother had long since gone on her way to be with Jesus, and my grandfather, age 93, had died the night before. I was sitting on the back step of our porch.  My grandfather died at 3:00 am, and I had been up since then.  It was a beautiful Spring morning, and I was peering up through the trees to the sky….just wondering.  More importantly, I was feeling such a comforting Spirit of God.  I’m so thankful that I have been taught how to lean into His presence for comfort in trying times. So many thoughts….so many memories…so many feelings. Our family was preparing for his funeral, which had been expected after a long struggle with kidney failure. Suddenly, I heard a little voice call, “Mommy? Mommy…”.  My 4-year old daughter was up.  I knew I had to tell her that her Old Papa (as she named him) had gone on.  How do I tell her this?  How do I introduce her to death?  When her goldfish died, I flushed it down the toilet and replaced it.  Not such an easy task today.

I go inside, pick her up, and whisper, “Good Morning, Sweet Girl.”  “I’m hungry,” she says.  So we both sit down to a healthy breakfast of Lucky Charms and Sunny D. We are chit-chatting during breakfast, but I’m really thinking about how I’m going to talk to her about saying good-bye.  I know she understands about heaven, and I know she understands a little bit about death. Just a few weeks earlier, my other grandmother had been in the hospital.  On the way there, Lexi asked me, “Is Granny going to heaven.” Instinctively I knew that she was asking if her Granny was going to die.”  “Oh no, sweet pea.  She’s a little sick, but the doctors are helping her feel much better, “ I say with much confidence.  So, when we enter the room, Lexi is quite.  After some coaxing, she climbs up on the bed, gets close to my grandmother’s face and says, “Granny…you’re not going to heaven,” to which my grandmother emphatically replied, “I’m not?!  Then where do you think I’m going?”.  We chuckle.  I explain.

After I stick our breakfast dishes in the sink, I ask Lexi to come sit on my lap.  I talk to her about her Old Papa.  I remind her that he has been very sick.  We talk about the beauty of heaven.  I tell her that Jesus is waiting for us there, and that there are streets of gold, a crystal sea, and no sun because the glory of God is so bright it lights the day. I tell her that Jesus has decided to be gracious to Old Papa and bring him to heaven where he will not be sick anymore. She asks, “Can he come back?” “No,” I say, “He will not come back to earth.”  I can see her little mind thinking this over and trying to make sense of it.  My heart is breaking for her.  It’s a shame that any child has to contemplate the permanency of death.  I hate to tell her this, but in some sense the promise of no death in heaven warms my spirit.  In heaven, no child will ever have think about the frailty of human life. No one will need to prepare them to separate from a precious grandparent, a needed parent, or even to separate from their own body.  How do parents handle conversations that are so much more difficult?

We are having a quiet moment, and I see this information sinking in.  I’m wondering should I talk to her about the difference between a body and a spirit?  She’s only 4 years old.  Can she understand that?  Is this too much information at once?  Maybe later?  When…the silence is broken by this wonderful question.  “Mommy, how do you get to heaven?”  My heart is so joyful in realizing that this is a God-ordained moment for me to witness the unending salvation of Christ to my only child.  It was hard for me to refrain from crying just thinking that God would allow me this opportunity.  I talk to her about the scriptures we learn in our Awana Cubbies class.  A = All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.  C = While we were sinners, Christ died for us. I talk to her about God’s forgiveness, and His promise of heaven for those who invite Jesus to be their Savior.  Then, an old thought comes to mind…. “Just like you have doors on your heart, Lexi, open the door and ask Jesus to live inside.”

For generations, this is the way that we have explained salvation to the children in our church family. What a gift to share it with another generation! Our prayer to find the way to Heaven starts with “Dear Jesus…”

God Bless,

Julie Wells – Julie Wells Ministries

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