A year ago, I was not a Christian. This alone may be news for some readers, as I always went to church and was raised Catholic. But I did not really know Jesus. And I was living like it.
I loved the bar scene, the stereotypical college lifestyle, and the idea that the only thing that mattered was tonight. I prided myself on the fact that with just a look, I could get anything I wanted. My friends would joke about how I never needed to bring my ID along because all the bouncers and bartenders knew me.
I thought I was living the life.
Now to the rest of the world, it certainly looked like I had everything under control, like I was just the typical 21 year old. No one would’ve suspected that I had a problem. It’s true I wasn’t an alcoholic or serious drug addict, but inside, I was dying. Because I was searching for love and satisfaction in things that were never meant to fulfill or even tide me over.
Meanwhile, I thought I was all good with Jesus. Afterall, I went to church. I even volunteered there. But last January, things started to unravel for me. At first, it was just little red flags popping up everywhere. A conversation with one of my friends about how excited he was now that he was a Christian and having to lie about my relationship with God to him. Another friend’s comment about how a Christian rally should be so loud that the kids in the neighboring library would have to give up on studying for exams, and me thinking he was crazy. Leading one of my students in accepting Christ and being so afraid I’d be “found out.”
Then early April, something changed. The red flags started to get bigger, and I started feeling an impending sense of doom. I would wake up with it, and it wouldn’t leave all day. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I couldn’t stop questioning where I was going to go when I died. I didn’t get it. I mean I was going to church, wasn’t that enough? I was trying to cut down on my sinful habits, didn’t that count for something? I had even joined a Bible study for goodness sakes!
Cut to May 3, 2009. I’m sitting at church, not even remotely happy. Clayton King is speaking…and it’s literally hurting to listen to him speak. So he finally gets to the invitation, and at this point I’m just like over the whole thing. So I say to God, “Listen, I’m not going to respond to this. I’m not going to raise my hand, or stand up or even pray that silly prayer or any of that nonsense. You tell me what needs to happen, and I’ll go home and maybe I’ll deal with it there.” So Clayton launches into the Salvation Prayer….and I start praying it….without even realizing it.
Next thing I know, Clayton says, “If you just prayed that prayer, we want to celebrate with you…stand up!” And I’m like…”uh nope, not gonna happen. I don’t even know what just happened here so there’s no way I’m standing up in front of all these people” (I go to a very large church, so I would have to stand up in front of +1000 people). I’m having this mini battle inside, and finally I just say “F this..I wanna know that I belong to Jesus.” So I stood. At that moment, when I stood, I gave my life to Christ. At that moment, I finally surrendered to Him. AND IT WAS AWESOME!!!
Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying you have to stand up in a church invitation to get saved. I am not saying you need to say the traditional Salvation Prayer. What I am saying is that you must choose to give your life to Him. It’s not enough just to believe in Him; the Bible tells us even the demons believe in God (James 2:19). You must acknowledge that you are a sinner (it’s ok, we all are), and as such deserve a sinner’s punishment. You must accept that Jesus died and rose again for you and for the forgiveness of your sins.
