An excerpt from my book “The Journey Back Home”
It all started with a simple prayer “God, I want my own testimony.”
I sat in the back of my home church with the other kids, just like any other Sunday morning, goofing off wondering when the service would end so we could escape to get snacks at the bodega next door. Church as usual, a guest minister was invited to preach. I don’t quite remember the man of God, there was nothing distinct in his appearance to cause me to remember him but his words that day struck a chord within me and all I remember is reflecting on the mundanity of my life thus far and earnestly praying in my heart “God, I want my own testimony.” My church friends were playing around and whispering and all I could wish at that moment was to tell them to shut up but I didn’t dare, lest I missed something the man was saying; I was hanging on every one of his words. He was sharing with us his testimony, the mess where God had taken him from, what He took him through, real exciting stuff and in my mind I was picturing a tale of a brave knight, angels and demons and an all powerful God reigning from his heavenly throne. You know the usual battle against the forces of darkness, that’s the image conceived in my mind when I thought about the scripture “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood…” Giggling and noise of gum popping brake my focus momentarily, I shoot a look that says “Really?” to the culprits who looked apologetic until I turned my back.
I came from what I thought was an ordinary boring life, both parents into ministry, born into the hustle and bustle of church life, the youngest of the tribe, very ordinary. More so for me than any of my other friends, church at my age was attended out of duty as opposed to a desire to meet with God. I was instilled with a love for God at a very young age problem is I didn’t know Him much. I mean I loved God, I sincerely did, I had a Bible I think I read but I just didn’t know Him for myself. What I knew about Him was from parents and the church teaching us the fear of God that backfired to some of us becoming somewhat terrified of Him. I would say growing up, church was a mixture of Moses coming down Mt. Sinai with the Ten Commandments and the Holy Spirit coming upon the believers on the day of Pentecost- law abiding Pentecostals. Went there earlier than all and left later than most, but I didn’t mind it as much then when I was younger so long as I got to sit in the back dividing my time between paying attention and playing around.
Another round of gum popping and more whispers but it was too late for me, like an unsuspecting fish who caught the bait, I was hooked on his tale of how a God so high above would care to use a most unimpressive creature for His own glory and I thought to myself, “Even me Lord?” I sat there absorbing the message that came out with power from on high backed by shouts of Amen’s and the beat of conga drums for emphasis, just in case it wasn’t loud enough, muffling out the merengue music that played from the restaurant next door to our little storefront church. We hadn’t been in the area too long, wasn’t the best neighborhood to be in but I guess that’s the point, it was where the Good News was needed most. Low-income neighborhood where many survived through assistance from the government. Sneakers streamed the electrical poles and garbage paved the ground. Liquor bottles were often found resting outside the gates of the church more than enough evidence of a good night and that many would be missing Sunday morning service, although it was no more than a handful of people in the neighborhood that had braved to accept the “Come as you are” invitation that we often use as church goers though most of us don’t really mean it. On Sunday mornings you will find us starched, pressed, with our very best on, prepared to internally assess the character of any new unsuspecting visitor who would dare walk into the lion’s den. “Yes you can come as you are, Jesus said to come as you are,” we earnestly encourage with reassuring smiles, but it’s so hard not to put on our Pharisee hats when we see the teenager walk in with a baby on her hips, a tank top showing way too much cleavage, and another dirty looking toddler holding on to the back pocket of her torn Ecko jeans. This is what you were sure to experience at least once going to my church. This was the population that we served. These are the people that needed most to hear about God’s love, of the great hope we have in Christ Jesus and I wish I could say that we did our best to get that across. Maybe what happened was that we stopped caring about what God wanted and tuned into what we wanted- how we wanted church to be, all at the expense of losing what was most important. The last time I was there was some time ago, I had to follow what was most important.
I still remember that prayer I had made, even though it was so long ago. It was probably one of the most unselfish prayers I prayed growing up, besides the whining I did to God telling Him how it wasn’t fair that I wasn’t cool like the other kids or how I didn’t have brand named clothes like they did (don’t judge me, this was pretty important for me!). The sermon was coming to a close and the man of God led us into a prayer encouraging us to ask God to make our lives a testimony, for God to give us our own testimonies by which many would be saved upon their hearing and yes, even though I was so wrapped in my silly early adolescent drama, I had a desire to see people get saved. I didn’t develop an intimate relationship with Jesus until most recently, but I knew about heaven and hell and I didn’t want people to end up in hell. I knew that Jesus could change lives though I hadn’t experienced that transformation yet. Oh how I desired that He would do something with my life, that I would have an awesome testimony that would someday cause somebody’s mouth to drop open in shock exclaiming “Wow! If God could do all of that in Gifty’s life how much more my own?” Up until then I felt that I had nothing to say, nothing at all, Jesus was the way, I knew no other way. I didn’t have a past that was marked with a prodigal’s footprints, or a shameful family background that when brought out into the light would be converted to be something glorious…but that was then. Up until then i thought God was looking down on me from heaven scratching His head saying “Well, can you at least sing?” Yes! Wait, no. No, not really, I mean everyone can sing right? I guess the question is if I can sing good…well I was in the church choir…but that’s only because no one else would be in it. No, I wasn’t much of a singer, or an instrumentalist or had any of those cool gifts/talents where someone could say about me “She is anointed!” No, I was just Gifty, who would sit in the back, help out with ushering and grudgingly go sing a couple of songs for the sake of praise and worship time.That’s why I prayed the more earnestly. The little bit of life I had sucked. “God you gotta do something with this, you gotta do something with me!”
Looking back I can honestly say that God did in fact honor my prayers, answering definitely not how I had expected at all. A lot has happened since I prayed that prayer, not in a million years could I have predicted any of it…me finding some similarities with the golden boy “the prodigal son,” oh yes a trail of shameful, messy, not-so-proud-of moments, coming face to face with some truths that were hard to digest but experiencing freedom once accepted. I could grieve about all that was lost yet if I look at Romans 8:28 I have to admit that God is turning things around for good… in His own time it will be beautiful.
That is why I sincerely look forward to this World Race…I have nothing to lose but all the more to gain. Maybe my life story is not as boring as i thought it would be, maybe I might even be developing my own testimony that will be a blessing to someone one day. So here I stand, a brave knightess, lots of action, a fire breathing dragon? Not sure what’s next but I guess you’ll just have to keep on following to find out
Living Courageously,
Yedidah
~For every Goliath there is a David~
