My Best Decision
Our story begins in 2017 in Springfield Virginia where a 13-year-old girl was sitting in a church pew on a Sunday morning. On this particular Sunday, the church is filled with at least 100 people worshiping with the choir. Unlike the teenager, the people in the crowd who are singing on top of their lungs or gently reciting the words. But not this girl. This girl isn't singing at the top of her lungs or quoting the phrases of the music coming from the choir. Instead, she is looking around. While others are embracing the music, our teenager is sitting in a pew looking at the woman who is standing in front of her. Unbeknownst to the woman, on this Sunday, in 2017, in a Suburban Church in Springfield, Virginia, this woman impacted the life of this 13-year-old girl.
The teenager began asking questions within herself. Questions that she would spend three years seeking answers for. Questions like:
Why is this woman standing? Why is this woman singing this song? What does this song mean to her? Why is she singing as if it's the last thing she would ever do? Is that what it means to be a Christian? Why are these people, especially this woman, worshiping Jesus so profoundly? What is this whole Jesus thing about? Am I really a Christian? I thought I was. But, is God real?
Fast forward, that 13-year-old girl is now a 28-year-old woman. The woman currently writing this post. Yes I am that 28-year-old-woman, and yes I was the 13-year-old girl that was sitting in the pew. On that Sunday morning, in 2007, I witnessed the beginning of my best decision.
I had claimed to be a Christian growing up. Back in Ghana my mother was involved in just about every ministry you could name. I remember spending my weeknights falling asleep on 3 chairs in the sanctuary in our newly built Baptist Church in Kumasi, Ghana. (This was the norm for me.) Whether in Ghana or America, when asked about my faith, I would answer, Jesus. (They did say in children's church that the best answer was always Jesus; I listened to that much.)
However, after growing up in church for years, I didn't feel the same thing the lady in front of me on that Sunday morning was feeling. That morning messed me up, for the better. I began questioning many things afterward. I started wondering why I was telling people that I was a Christian and what it meant to claim Jesus.
Apparently, something must have happened from 13 to 28 that changed my perspective completely. That is, I chose Jesus. And let me tell you why.
2 years after the questions began, I wasn't sitting but instead, standing in line on a Friday night in a small Church filled with about 10 to 15 people. There wasn’t a choir this time. There was a pastor who was praying for everyone individually. ( Thinking back to that was a lot of praying! 15 prayers plus your own, God bless people who are called for pastoral leadership.)
While standing in line, I started getting 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 at the time, I prayed. (I know, a fifteen-year-old girl who was 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 thing. The Jesus thing I don't understand. Can you just show me something? Can you show me that you’re real?”
My prayer ended there because it was now my turn to be prayed for. Looking back, I remember the calm expression on the pastor's face when I looked up at him. It was as if he was smiling for a second. He looked at me as if he knew what was going on in my mind. He dipped the tip of his index finger end 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 laid hands on people. I had heard of people falling before. I didn't believe in this form of prayer because it seemed too charismatic for me. But this time, it was different.
I wasn’t forced. He didn't push me so that I would fall like I had seen before. No, he laid his hand on me as a father would to their newborn child, gently. However, when I closed my eyes, a powerful gust of wind, ran through me, as if it was a stormy night on a beach. I lost my balance and stumbled backwards.
When I opened my eyes, I knew something was different. I knew that God was real. I wish I could explain it in depth. It was as if the realization of the most significant secret had finally dawned on me. It was as if I’d had amnesia for 15 years, and just woke up realizing who I am. At that moment, when I realized that the whole Jesus thing I'd been taught for years, was real. I knew I had to make a decision.
With some of these questions answered, it was time for me to make a decision on what path I wanted to take. I knew that following God wasn't something to choose to make yourself feel better. At a crossroads, I made the best decision. I chose to embrace the one who never rejected me despite my doubts. I decided to let myself fall in love with the one who loved me before I was even born. I made the decision to hold onto the love and grace the Jesus gave me on that cross over two thousand years ago
Looking back at how everything played out, choosing to follow Christ is indeed the best decision I've ever made. There is no choice I've ever made that I'm more proud of than falling in love with my Savior.
I would like to share this with anyone whose had those same weird thoughts about Jesus:
He loves you and it shows in everything he does for us. Seek out that love and let him take over. It may not come easy, but this was never meant to be easy. Knowing that he loves me and you is more than enough for me to live my life striving to be more like Christ. Of course we all go through trials, but his love is always there to guide us through them.
Until next time…
-🌿 Abigail
