From my perspective, I sought Christ from a young age, wanting to know what His Father looked like, whether or not astrology was compatible with Christianity, and why Jesus died on the cross. My parents' church presented Bibles to the Sunday School children on the completion of third grade, and I read mine often...although haphazardly. As I reached puberty, I became interested in paranormal phenomena and the occult, always finding reasons to reconcile them with God as I understood Him.
My parent's church was liberal. In Youth Group, they explained that Jesus died on the cross because, like Ghandi and Martin Luther King Jr., He preached about love and social justice. Little was said about His resurrection. Nothing about His deity.
He eventually brought me into contact with Christians who shared the Gospel with me, and He began transforming me into His child. For decades, I tried to take some type of credit for "accepting" Jesus and "making Him my Lord and Savior," wanting commendation because I'd "made a decision for Him." I failed to recognize that He had had His hand on me, even as I flirted with demonic teachings like astrology, to draw me to Himself. I'll never understand why He brought me to salvation, but I now know that He did so with no help from me.