How I Became a Christian

My family was not a religious one. I have faint memories of going to one of the Methodist churches in my home town; mostly at Christmas and Easter. Also a Vacation Bible School or two. At some point when I was younger, we may have gone more frequently, but the times that I remember were more special occasions/holidays. My strongest memories of the church are singing in the choir, red carpet in the sanctuary, and my mother complaining that it was a fashion show every Sunday with people trying to out-dress each other.

By the time I graduated from high school (1984), I was convinced that there was no god. Evolution made perfect sense to me; Creation seemed a fairy tale. I had not knowingly experienced God moving in my life, and I had seen enough hypocritical behavior in so-called Christians to turn me off to religion for good (this was in the Jim Bakker & Jimmy Swaggert era). I proudly wrote “atheist” in the religion blank on my college admissions forms and was unabashedly rude to anyone who tried to talk to me about God.

To make matters worse, I married a preacher’s kid in 1991. My in-laws were some of the most judgmental, cold-hearted individuals I have ever known. They certainly didn’t do anything to help me change my views about Christians and God.

After my divorce in 1995, I moved back to my home town area so I could be closer to my family.
In 1997, I got a job at the community action agency here. It was an interesting experience for me. About 85% of the employees there were African-American. Being called into a meeting and finding myself the only white face at the table was an eye-opening experience to be sure. After a while, I started not to think about my skin color. (One co-worker even complimented me by saying that I was a black girl trapped in a white person’s body! LOL)

After working there for about 9 months, I started dating Dan. In one of our early dating conversations, he made a comment about God and I responded with, “You aren’t one of those born-again people, are you?” Thank God he didn’t give up on me at that point! Because of my conversations with Dan, I started noticing that the staff at my workplace did not just differ from me racially. Most — if not all of them — were Christians.

Surprisingly, they were different from the other Christians I had crossed paths with before. They were open and honest, friendly and most of all, happy. When I felt comfortable enough to ask them questions about their faith, they answered me without any shock or judgment, just an eagerness to share an important part of their lives with me.

It was also around this same time that I discovered that my two best friends were Christians. It’s amazing how you can consider someone a close friend and yet not even discuss something as important or personal as one’s faith!

As my relationship with Dan became more serious, I told him that because I loved him, I would go to church with him, but that I wouldn’t accept Christianity as anything more than “a nice philosophy.” We went to the Methodist church that Dan grew up attending — yawn! I’ve never heard such dismal music and short sermons! Then we went to the Unitarian Universalist fellowship — I was comfortable there because God was not really mentioned. Dan, on the other hand, was saddened by their disbelief in God. (We had our first major argument after leaving that church). We decided to cool it for a while, and then a friend invited us to an evangelistic non-denominational church that she attended.

We went in December 1999 and when we left I asked Dan what he thought of it. He liked it; so did I. We ended up going there regularly. I had moved from atheist to agnostic at this point. Not too long after we started attending that church, we ran into a Pentecostal acquaintance of Dan’s at Sam’s Club one day. Dan carried on a conversation with him while I pretty much just minded my business. Almost in mid-sentence, Dan’s friend turned to me and said, “You have a hunger in your heart.” He had spoken what I hadn’t even been able to tell Dan. He knew I was leaning in closer to God, even if I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. Eerie.

In February 2000, we decided to take Trevor to see the Power Team at the church — they are a bodybuilding team that shows off their super strength while delivering an inspirational message. We also took the boy that lived next door to us. I certainly wasn’t planning on getting saved that night… but I did.

Toward the end of the evening, the speaker had everyone in the audience stand up. He told us to close our eyes and put our hands in front of us. I did. He then instructed us to mentally place all of our worries and troubles in our hands as if holding them. We were to turn these troubles over to God, ask God to take on our burdens for us and forgive us of our sins. As I followed his instructions, I could feel my hands rise up as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off of them!

Anyone who has ever experienced a spiritual phenomenon such as this will know what I mean; anyone who hasn’t will think I am crazy. But I will never forget that feeling, and I have been a believer ever since then.