 I can't remember the year, but it was eight or nine years of age. I remember it was on a Good Friday. I'd watched a picture, a movie about Jesus on television. And when it was over, I knew that he had died for me. I can't explain that. I just believe the Holy Spirit worked in my heart, and I was convicted of my sin. I got down on my knees in my bedroom at my parents' house, and I said, Jesus, if your death didn't benefit anybody else, I want it to be worth it for me.