Born and raised in a Christian home, I always thought this was enough for me to qualify for the label “Christian”. My parents were both leaders in the church: my father an elder and my mother a deacon and President of the Baptist Union of Uganda Women’s ministry at that time. We regularly had family altar and everyone was given a chance to participate in leading the Bible Study. Furthermore, we had a weekly home care-group that met at our house and members of the church came home once a week to share in God’s word. My life was good enough; I thought. It was not until 1991 at the age of 10 that I came to the realization that no matter what good I or my parents or the rest of the family did, I needed to have a personal encounter with the Lord Jesus Christ. Kampala Pentecostal Church (now Watoto Church) staged a play “Heavens Gates and Hells Flames” and one of our family church friends – aunt Sarah took my young sister and I to watch this drama. This play basically exhibited lives of different kinds of people from all walks of life, how they lived while here on earth and what happened to them after death. For the first time, I came to terms with the reality of death and the fact that there are only two possible destinies beyond this life; heaven or hell. I realized that life is not in my hands and that reality could strike any time and that no matter how good I lived, this was not sufficient to guarantee my destiny with God in heaven. At the end of the play, when the altar call was announced, without hesitation I rushed to the front and surrendered my life to Christ.