The Statement

@Hissince2013

I first like to start off by thanking my dear friend, Noah, for encouraging me and constantly remind to get this done. This story has been long overdue, and I finally remembered to write it.

I've been blessed to grow up in a Christian home, as well as being raised in the church. I've been in the church since I was in the womb. According to my Mum, I've always been a busybody, especially whenever there were worshiping as well as the pastor was preaching, whether it be a sermon or Sunday school lesson.

But this isn't the story about how long I've been in the church, this is the story of how I was brought to Christ, how I became "Always His."

Now, since I grew up the in the church, I constantly heard the importance of repentance, baptism in Jesus Name and the infilling of the Holy Ghost recorded in the Book of Acts, but at the young age of 6-11, I found it quite irritating to hear my Sunday School teachers (one of them being my own Mum), as well as my Dad, talking about it at home, and my pastor talking about it at church. It got so bad that I literally told my own mother and my other Sunday School teacher that I felt like they're forcing me to become a Christian. Just imagine your daughter telling you this at the young age of 7 or so. It would hurt, and I never realized how much it affected my mother as well as my other Sunday School teacher who was like a second mom to me.

After this, everything seemed to just get worse, slowly but surely. I became fearful of being baptized because of seeing a video of a missionary baptize someone in the water. Don't ask why, because I'm still ashamed of my silly childish self as well as the full reason behind it. But my biggest fear was being filled with the Holy Ghost.

I saw how my church responded to it. I saw how the Holy Ghost made my Daddy once upon a time cry when I was five years old. I saw how the Holy Ghost made my Mum do some very interesting dance moves, otherwise known as praise break. LOL. But I couldn't understand why it made them talk funny. So, I did my absolute best to avoid the altar at all costs. Even when my other Sunday School teacher encouraged me to go to the front, I made a way for her to not ask me. Simple, I grabbed my coat and acted like I fell asleep on the church seats. I was some kid, that's for sure.

Then, as time went on, I lost my influences who encouraged me. I lost my Sunday School teacher and her large family who had a huge impact on me growing up. I began losing the people who I grew up with, and in some sense, they lost me too. I began going out to a private 'Christian' school for the first time ever and experiencing some painful experiences as shy naive ten-year-old. By the time sixth grade came around, I was broken girl, taking what everyone said to heart because that was just who I was. I let everyone's comments affect me in some way, and I was actually considering suicide.

But that summer, something happened, that something being nothing less than a miracle. I decided to go to Junior Camp, or commonly known as Church camp for the younger children ages, twelve and under.

While I was there, I was shocked to see kids, younger than my twelve-year-old self, worshipping in other tongues, praising our Creator, and praying for others for that matter. Like the adults do at my church, I thought.

My least favorite activity at camp was the Prayer Session. I didn't know how to pray and I most certainly didn't want an hour (more like forty-five minutes) dedicated to praying. It annoyed me and I felt extremely uncomfortable whilst being there, but I can't deny that I had that I felt exposed while I was there.

The woman who hosted that segment met my eyes that day and just gave me a sweet but gentle smile, and I could never understand why. After painfully sitting through the segment, I was surprised when it was over because I felt at peace like I was at home. I didn't want to leave, even if our group's time was up. While everyone left, I came up to the woman to thank her as well as ask her a question that was laid upon my heart. When I confronted the woman she gave me a wide smile and proceed to explain to me that she just knew that I'd come and ask her a question. I stared at the woman with a shocked but subtle expression. She knew? What?!

Anyways, I asked my question and she kindly answered it for me as well as giving me some encouragement as well as an incite. She told me that before this week was up, I'd be filled with the Holy Ghost. Okay, peace feeling over. I bolted out of that room, to catch up with my group.

Who in their right mind would feel peace or calm after being told that they'll be filled with the very thing that they're afraid that very week? And don't forget that I was only twelve years old and of course I let the logical side of my mind take over and I decided to forget what she had said. But I couldn't. Her words echoed in my head all day, every day as that week began.

I was so scared by this woman's words, that I refused to even step foot into the designated alter space. I was just so startled by this news. Thankfully, God didn't let my little games to continue for much longer. An old friend of my mother's and youth leader (at the time) saw that I was standing in my pew just watching as other kids were praying, worshipping, seeking at the altar. She came up to me and asked if I'd like to pray. I was honest and said no. She proceeded to ask me questions and give me answers. After much convincing, she finally got me out of the pew and walked me up to the altar.

I didn't want to be right in the front, so I decided to stand closest to the chairs. She gave me a mini list of instructions and I decided to just do it so I could be done and over within no time. I closed my eyes and heard her breathe a word of prayer into my ear. Sometime during that period, I just got lost in her words and what she was saying. I was completely unaware that I had begun to pray softly too. The only thing I remember hearing was her encouraging me to pray louder and talk to God. So, I did. I don't know how long I was praying for, I don't even know what happened, but I seemed to have gotten lost in this dream state. I don't fully remember everything that I saw but I do mostly remember reaching for something. I kept hearing faintly in my ear to reach for the gift He had for me. Reach. Reach. Reach. I guess I was visualizing a gift of some sorts, and this gift turned into a hand. A hand that my hand was desperately trying to grasp. With little to no effort, I had grasped the hand with my own.

I don't know what happened in the real world at the time because I wasn't fully aware, but I do know that the view in front of me got brighter one moment and was completely gone the next. I only had a quick glimpse of the person's clothing of whom I'd grabbed then I was thrown into darkness. I started feeling this overwhelming joyful feeling from the depths of my gut. It was so good. I don't know how to explain it, but that it was a great feeling, an overwhelming feeling. My body became unbelievably warm. Extremely warm. I've never been so warm in my life, yet I didn't care. I was happy. I felt the smile that burst out onto my face, then I was thrown back into the land of the living.

I was then aware of the many hands that were laid upon my back, and the hands that were holding up my arms. I was beyond confused but I kept hearing encouragement and rejoicing? After a few minutes, I was aware of my tongue moving. My tongue was moving, and no matter how hard I tried to stop it, it wouldn't stop. I even tried to bite my tongue, but my tongue kept going. The sound of an unknown tongue reached my ears. The feeling of tears rolling down my face and neck. It was then that I had realized what I had reached for.

My knees caved. My body was being forced to bow down to my Lord and Savior, drowning in the love that swept over me like a crashing wave. The overwhelming feeling to fall on my knees was so strong. I heard people rushing to my side to keep me standing at all costs, but I didn't want to stand. My knees refused to cooperate, they just wanted to be kneeled. I continued to worship and thank my Savior for gracing me with His Spirit. I continued to thank Him with all that I had in me. I just kept going and going and going.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was met with the heartfelt gazes of those around me. Praying for me. Those were the eyes of some of the children I had grown up with. Those were the eyes of the people who've known me since I was a little toddler, looking at me with pride shining through their eyes. I couldn't stand for another minute, but I only had one request on my lips.

"I want to be baptized."

I wasn't going to wait till I got home, and be baptized at my church. I wasn't waiting another second. I wanted it right then and there. I begged my youth pastor to have them ask the camp directors if I could be baptized. Nobody could silence me on my request. I was beaming a smile to anyone in sight. My youth pastor called my family and I got to tell them the joyful news over the phone. My mother was in tears with pure joy. They gave me the blessing to be baptized as long as they got a video of it. Later on that very morning, at high noon. I was baptized in the nearby lake, in Jesus Name. The waves were rough that day, and I literally had two people holding me tightly so I wouldn't be swept away with the tide. That day, as I was buried in Jesus Name, I saw the waves flow over my body and I raised up with a new purpose in life with a wide smile.