Growing up in the church, I sadly saw its many sides. Growing up in a “being saved is not any fun church”. Well, in my eyes, it is how I felt. Growing up, I always had a consciousness of God, but still thought I was OK. Yes, I knew that heaven was real and hell was too.
I still remember sleeping in on a particular Saturday. When I woke up, no one was home. Well, of course, across my mind, I thought the rapture had taken place, and I was left behind. I was crying until I heard my grandmother, whom we call “Mother,” come in through the back door; she had been hanging clothes outside. To my relief, it wasn’t too late. However, life went on, and I still did not come to God. To tell you the truth, I was afraid of dying. I was too scared to go to sleep every night because I felt like I was going to die. I could not sleep anywhere in the house because I thought a car, a train, a plane, or something could crash and kill me.
On one of those nights when I could not sleep, I was around 12 years old. Bed home, I heard a voice as clear as day asking me a question. “When will you be saved?” I answered back and told that voice all the things that I wanted to do: graduate, go to college, get a good job, and get married. I calculated up, being the math whiz I thought I was, and proudly said at the age of 27. Then, I heard the voice say “okay” and then leave.
Around age 14, one of the guest Elders at the time (Now Pastor) asked all the young people to come up for prayer. We already knew what was about to go down: as the young people went up to the altar, our mom, grandma, etc., told us to, and they began to pray for us. Then, that all-important question of the day, “Do You Want to Be Saved?”, came up, and, of course, everyone said YES, as we had in past times just to move the service along. However, when it was my turn, being the pertinacious individual that I am, and mad, I said No, I do not want to be saved right now! Well, you know, the Extra Virgin Olive Oil hit the ceiling fan and ran like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments. (Sorry, that was a little religious humor) They did not throw oil on me; they rebuked me and laid both hands on me.
However, I always felt I would be saved one day, but I wanted to do it of my own will. In the past, we said yes, and by Monday afternoon, we would be as if it never happened. This was one of the reasons I said no. Besides, that is still the funniest Sunday I will ever remember.
I was wide open to many things that a young person should not have been exposed to, but I had a grandmother whose prayers kept me from going too far and destroying myself. I tell people, I did not have a textbook conversion, yeah, no walking or running down the aisle for me. My childhood church hosted the youth convention in June of 1998. So many churches pack the place out. I had never seen so many young people on fire for God. This newfound excitement changed my outlook on my life.
As I contemplated, the spiritual warfare raged in my head, it lay to rest on the realness of God, which haunted me in a good way my whole life. Now, at 16, that question arose again in my bedroom when I was 12. Instantly, that overcapacity, the fire marshal is just a phone call away from the church when silent, and it was just me sitting all the way in the back of the choir stand. What happened next is as great as the ones who came down this path before me. I opened my mouth and said, “If you are who you say you are, and not just something my grandma talked about and someone I could talk to, then I’m tired of living like this!” That is all I said. Immediately, it felt like an ungodly weight, which I never knew I had fallen off. That night was the start of my best life.