Life of Henry

The first time Henry Covington accepted Jesus as his personal savior, he was only ten, at a small Bible camp in Beaverkill, New York. For Henry, camp meant two weeks away from the traffic and chaos of Brooklyn. Here kids played outside, chased frogs, and collected peppermint leaves in jars of water and left them in the sun. At night the counselors added sugar and made tea.

One evening, a pretty, light-skinned counselor asked Henry if he’d like to pray with her. She was seventeen, slim and gentle-mannered; she wore a brown skirt, a white frilly blouse, her hair was in a ponytail, and to Henry she was so beautiful he lost his breath.

Yes, he said. He would pray with her.

They went outside the bunk.

“Your name is Henry and you are a child of God.”

“My name is Henry,” he repeated, “and I am a child of God.”

“Do you want to accept Jesus Christ as your savior?” she said.

“Yes, I do,” he answered.

She took his hand.

“Are you confessing your sins?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you want Jesus to forgive your sins?”

“Yes.”

She leaned her forehead into his. Her voice lowered.

“Are you asking Jesus to come into your life?”

“I am asking him.”

“Do you want me to pray with you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

It was warm outside. The summer sky was reddening to dusk. Henry felt the girl’s soft forehead, her hand squeezing his, her whispered prayers so close to his ears. This surely was salvation. He accepted it with all his heart.

The next day, a friend of his got a BB gun, and they shot it at the frogs and tried to kill them.