D
Destiny504
Guest
I haven't always been a Christian, but I suppose no real Christian has. Funny thing is, I have always called myself one. I have been called many things in my life, a student, a lifeguard, a friend, but all of these titles were temporary. Eventually I will stop being a student and a lifeguard, and I already have people who no longer call me friend. But Christian has always been a title of mine, a label everyone assigned to me. The problem is, to a 4-year-old, it just means that you go to church, and are a good person. I wasn't a Christian then, I was a little girl who liked Sunday School. It didn't mean anything else.
I went to a small Christian school in 4[SUP]th[/SUP] Grade. I learned a lot more about the Bible, and about Jesus. I was a “good kid”, I sang in chapel, I prayed before meals, I knew all of the Bible stories by heart. Even then, I just thought being a Christian meant being a good person. All of the traditions and prayers had meaning, but I just didn't see it, I couldn't understand it. Only once did I begin to realize the power of prayer.
It was a Tuesday. My dad had been in a car accident around 2 A.M. My mom took me to the accident, where I remember seeing the car, and then some man sitting with me, because my mom was in the ambulance with dad. My mom came back, and we followed the ambulance to the hospital. When we got there, my grandma and aunt took turns talking to me and my mom separately. I finally got to my mom, who was crying. I asked her if I should go to school or not. “You don't have school today. It is Sunday” My aunt took me out of the room, and my grandma and a doctor went in the room with my mom.
I went to school that day. I went to chapel, where I tried to sing, but fell to my knees and cried. I thought my dad was dead. I knew I couldn't cry in front of my mom, but now I couldn't control it. My teacher brought me into the hall, and she just sat with me as I told her everything, and continued to cry. I heard her pray, and I started thinking about God. I wasn't mad, I just thought “God, please take care of Mom"
My dad was okay, and eventually, things went back to normal. I knew that what happened that day was nothing short of a miracle. But even after that, I didn't really know who God was. It wasn't until high school when I actually consider myself to have "been saved" as some call it. I was with my fellow freshmen, and I complained of a headache or something, and a friend put a hand on my shoulder, and it was gone. I thought nothing of that though, but later that same girl told me the story of her mother being physically and mentally ill and recently put into a nursing home, however, she was not sad, she was hopeful and had faith in God. My entire class came together, and prayed with her, and something clicked. I cannot truly explain that moment, but that is when I realized that these people believed in something truly powerful, and that their own compassion came from someone.
Later on in the day after asking a lot of questions, I sat with the teacher I now call my mentor. She talked with me and helped me see that all along, the love and compassion of my peers and everyone in that school was a reflection of the Love of Christ. It was that day I truly became a Christian. I feel as if the label changed that day too, as if it was no longer something someone gave me, but something that defined me, set me apart. That is how I became a Christian instead of just thinking I was one.
I went to a small Christian school in 4[SUP]th[/SUP] Grade. I learned a lot more about the Bible, and about Jesus. I was a “good kid”, I sang in chapel, I prayed before meals, I knew all of the Bible stories by heart. Even then, I just thought being a Christian meant being a good person. All of the traditions and prayers had meaning, but I just didn't see it, I couldn't understand it. Only once did I begin to realize the power of prayer.
It was a Tuesday. My dad had been in a car accident around 2 A.M. My mom took me to the accident, where I remember seeing the car, and then some man sitting with me, because my mom was in the ambulance with dad. My mom came back, and we followed the ambulance to the hospital. When we got there, my grandma and aunt took turns talking to me and my mom separately. I finally got to my mom, who was crying. I asked her if I should go to school or not. “You don't have school today. It is Sunday” My aunt took me out of the room, and my grandma and a doctor went in the room with my mom.
I went to school that day. I went to chapel, where I tried to sing, but fell to my knees and cried. I thought my dad was dead. I knew I couldn't cry in front of my mom, but now I couldn't control it. My teacher brought me into the hall, and she just sat with me as I told her everything, and continued to cry. I heard her pray, and I started thinking about God. I wasn't mad, I just thought “God, please take care of Mom"
My dad was okay, and eventually, things went back to normal. I knew that what happened that day was nothing short of a miracle. But even after that, I didn't really know who God was. It wasn't until high school when I actually consider myself to have "been saved" as some call it. I was with my fellow freshmen, and I complained of a headache or something, and a friend put a hand on my shoulder, and it was gone. I thought nothing of that though, but later that same girl told me the story of her mother being physically and mentally ill and recently put into a nursing home, however, she was not sad, she was hopeful and had faith in God. My entire class came together, and prayed with her, and something clicked. I cannot truly explain that moment, but that is when I realized that these people believed in something truly powerful, and that their own compassion came from someone.
Later on in the day after asking a lot of questions, I sat with the teacher I now call my mentor. She talked with me and helped me see that all along, the love and compassion of my peers and everyone in that school was a reflection of the Love of Christ. It was that day I truly became a Christian. I feel as if the label changed that day too, as if it was no longer something someone gave me, but something that defined me, set me apart. That is how I became a Christian instead of just thinking I was one.