When your lost you can always be found

"I..do," I say.

I tell him about my problems and my fears. My fear of trusting people, my fear of trusting him. How I was scared he would always let me down.

I rummaged through my night stand and found a Bible. I started to read.

I realized that God must have been testing my faith.

My brother's death was supposed to make me stronger, but I failed and got weaker.

That night I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up before anybody else and hailed a taxi. I had taken a shower and dressed in a nice spring dress so I was comfortable.

The taxi pulled up to the church and I paid the driver. I was at the church we had attended the first week we were here.

It was small but was nice and homy inside. I quietly edged inside and slid into a seat at the back. This church was english so I understood everything.

The pastor was preaching about our image. He said that it is not true what we have heard that "nobody's perfect" and nobody can be perfect. But in reality we were all made to be like Him, and He was perfect, so we should be perfect.

I wish I was perfect.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the end of the service, the pastor had altar call. I hesitantly make my way to the front. The pastor smiles down at me and gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Lord, we thank you for this young lady who stands before us this morning. She seeks you and we pray that you will hear her prayers. We pray Lord, that you would forgive her for any faults or sins that she has commited in her life and help her to also forgive. I pray that she will change her ways and-"

He looks at me.

"-forgive herself and know that her prayers were heard that night and that the Lord did what was best. We thank you Lord and pray that you would welcome..."

He pauses.

"I-Isabella." I stutter.

"-Isabella with open arms."

I dont know how he knew any of that but I felt the tears coming. They came and came until I was full out bawling. I felt a hand rest on my back and smell the familiar scent of Pastor John's cologne.

"Do you confess your sins?" He asks.

"I..do," I say.

"Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?"

"Yes, I do." I respond. I'm crying harder, if that's even possible.

"Then be saved." They let me go as I let the rest of my tears go.

Pastor John wraps me in a hug while watching the other pastor pray for someone next to me.

Through my tears I see Troy. His hands are up and he is crying. I can't help smiling.