The Best Decision I Ever Made
Picture this: a 13-year-old girl sitting on a church pew on a Sunday morning in a sanctuary filled with over 300 people. Some of these people are standing, and some are just like this 13-year-old girl are sitting. Some are singing at the top of their lunges while others are genteelly reciting the words. But not this girl. This girl isn’t singing at the top of her nor is she quoting the phrases of the music coming from the choir. Instead, she is looking. While others are embracing the music that the choir is sharing on this Sunday morning, this 13-year-old girl is sitting on a pew looking at the woman who is standing and singing with all the power in her lungs with her arms raised high in front of her.
That 13-year-old girl began to question some things as she sat there observing the lady in front of her. This teenager asked her self these questions:
Why is this woman standing?
Why is she singing this song?
What does this song mean to her?
Why is she singing as if it was the very last thing she would ever do?
Is this what it means to be a Christian?
Why are these people, especially this lady, worshipping Jesus so powerfully?
What is this whole Jesus thing about?
Am I really a Christian even though I’ve always told people I am?
Is God real?
Fast forward, that 13-year-old girl is now a 24-year-old woman. A 24-year-old woman who is currently writing this blog post. Yes, I’m that 24-year-old woman, and yes, I was the 13-year-old girl that was sitting on that pew on that Sunday morning in that church service witnessing that woman that was worshiping Jesus with all her might.
I had always claimed to be a Christian growing up. Back in Ghana (if you didn’t know about my origin then make sure to go back to the About Abigail section) my mother was involved in just about every church ministry you could possibly name. I remember spending my weeknights falling asleep on three chairs in the sanctuary of our Baptist church. This was the norm for me. So in Ghana and American, whenever people would ask me about my faith or who I believed in, I would always say Jesus. I mean they always said in children’s church that the best answer was Jesus, I listened to that much.
However, with all the prayer, church plays, and Bible reading, I still didn’t feel the same thing the lady was feeling on that Sunday morning. That Sunday morning really messed me up…for the better. I began questioning so much. I started wondering why I was telling people that I was a Christian and what it really means even to claim Jesus.
Apparently, something must have happened from 13 to 24 that changed my perspective: I chose Jesus. Let me tell you how and why.
I was 15 years old, and this time I wasn’t sitting on a pew. Instead, I was standing in a line on a Friday night in a small church filled with about 10 to 15 people. This time there was lovely music coming from a choir. Heck, there wasn’t even a choir. There was a pastor who was praying. He was praying for everyone individual. (Man thinking back to that, that’s a lot of praying. 15 prayers plus your own, God bless people who God calls for pastoral leadership!)
As the line of people kept moving, I began to get nervous. With each person leaving the line after their prayer, my heart began to race faster and faster. I did the one thing I believed I could do, I prayed. I know, a 15-year-old girl who is questioning God actually prays to God. The irony is rich. I tell you. I prayed and asked God, “God, I really don’t know if you’re real and I really don’t get this whole Christian, Jesus thing going on here. Can you just please show me something? Please?”
I couldn’t continue to plead with God to show me something because it was now my turn. When I got to the front, I noticed how the pastor had a calm expression across his face. It was as if he was smiling, but you could only see it for a second. He looked at me as if he knew what was going on in my mind. He dipped the tips of his index finger in oil and placed his hand on my forehead. I had seen this before. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that there were leaders who lay hands on people the and then the person fall wasn’t something new to me. I didn’t really believe in this form of prayer because it always seemed a little too charismatic for me. But this was different.
He didn’t push me so that I would fall. No. He laid his hand on me as a father would to their newborn child, gently. But somehow…I found that as I closed my eyes a gust of wind, almost like after a storm on a beach, ran through me.
As I opened my eyes slowly, I knew something was different. I knew that God was and still is real. I wish I could explain it more in depth, but it was as if a realization of the most significant secret had finally dawned on me. It was as if I had amnesia for 15 years and just woke up realizing who I was. At that moment, when I realized that this whole Jesus thing I’ve been taught since I could breath was real, I knew that I had to make a decision.
I had to make a decision on what path I wanted to take now that I knew that God wasn’t some being the majority of the world follows to make themselves feel better. So at a crossroads, I made the best decision I could ever make for myself, I chose to embrace the very being that though I doubted him and questioned him, He never rejected me. I decided to let myself fall in love with the one that loved me before I was born. I made the decision that for as long as I have breath, the love and grace that Jesus gave me on the cross would be the essence of who I am.
Looking back to how everything played out choosing to follow the one that loves me the most and that I love the most was the very best decision I ever made. There is no choice I’ve ever made in my lifetime that I’m more proud of making than choosing to fall madly in love with my Savior.
Maybe you have a testimony of how God brought you closer to him, or you want to know how to know God in your own way. Let me know through our Contact Us section, and I will pray for you so that you may also find the answers to the questions you’re looking for.
Until next time…