A Walk I’ll Remember
When you see a woman with hair to her ankles and who always wears a skirt, you assume she’s Pentecostal. But when you first looked at me and you only saw my short hair and jeans, you couldn’t really tell I am too. Over the years that has changed though, and now people can see God shining through me. I would like to tell you how I got there.
In 2010 I was going to church every Sunday, Wednesday, and the occasional Monday or Friday for prayer. I took part in anything and everything the church offered. I loved God so much at that point in my life. I was a girl after God’s heart and would stop at nothing to find out what God had planned for my life.
I was filled with the Holy Ghost at the age of eleven. Back then it seemed everything was going the way it was supposed to— like nothing in this world mattered except for God. Then it seemed the world wanted to change that and decided to strip it all away.
On November 1, 2010, my uncle passed away because of lung cancer. I was instantly angry with God. Every time I prayed, I yelled at God saying, “He was getting better! Why did you take him? You were healing him, and he was about to come home!” In my depression and anger, I slowly slipped away from God. I quit going to church, quit reading my Bible, and I quit praying because I was scared, selfish, and confused. And I refused any help from anybody.
This was when I started falling into the tricks of the world. I cut my long beautiful hair so short it didn’t even touch my shoulders, and I started to make bad choices on purpose. I did things I’m still ashamed of today. I was rebelling against nothing but my own anger. These choices I made seemed to influence my family, making us break apart from each other and God Himself.
As the years progressed, things never really got better or worse. That’s when I started to feel strange inside, like something was missing, but I had no idea what this something was. I started bumping into people from my old church. Every one of them told me they missed me and wanted to see me back in church, but I never went back. I just gave them an excuse and moved on.
Until one day, I bumped into my pastor. When he told me he missed me in church, it touched my heart. But yet again, I gave an excuse and walked away. That very same evening, a friend of mine from that church asked me if I would go to church with him—and to be honest—the only reason I went that night was because I didn’t have an excuse big enough. So I went.
When I walked into those church doors, I felt something like a hug. It felt like someone just walked up and wrapped their arms around me. I didn’t know what to do with this feeling, and I couldn’t get it off my mind. I sat through service that evening, just listening, and I found what I was missing.
I continued going to church every Sunday and Wednesday. I would sit and listen but wouldn’t pray because I was still ashamed of my past. Then one Sunday, I was sitting in my pew when my pastor made an altar call. I didn’t know what happened, but it felt like something ripped me off my pew and threw me to the altar. I stood there and cried because I knew after that night I wouldn’t be the same ever again.
On the next Wednesday, my youth pastor announced youth convention, and sure enough, I went. The first service proved to me that this is where I start over; this is where I finally get my strength back. Every day at youth convention I prayed to God asking Him to use me and my life to touch people. That’s when I ran into Pastor LJ Harry who asked me to write this article. I knew God was answering all my prayers. So I took advantage of this opportunity to show people no matter what this world throws at you, God is always going to be there to help you up when you fall down.
This walk made me who I am today. I have never been happier—all thanks to God.
I am a girl from a small town in Palmyra, Missouri. I want to go to Urshan College to become a youth pastor just like mine. I also enjoy cooking.