I came into the university hating God. I didn’t disbelieve
His existence. I didn’t argue with His works but I just did not like Him. There
was no relationship between us- at least none that I was willing to create. I knew
that coming to a Christian university would change that in some way but I wasn’t
ready to let it, not yet, I wasn’t. My father is a preacher. Almost every day
prior to my resumption, I heard about God. Almost every day for the next four
years, I would hear about God. I knew I was going to be bombarded but I wasn’t
ready to be committed to any faith. The idea of being in faith was too
restrictive. I’d rather I remained a ‘free’ man.
Like I said, my father was a preacher so I had mastered the
act of pretending I cared about God and His things. Frankly, I didn’t mind
pretending for the next four years, as long as no one was going to bother me to
‘give my life to Christ’. I wasn’t bothered that they’d call for people to come
out for the sinner’s prayer, I would simply take my off ‘things’ at that
moment. I had the ‘perfect’ plan to escape God. I wasn’t about to let anybody
tie me down. But the thing I was most ignorant about was that God’s Love allows
Him to be patient…to wait for the right moment to swoop in and sweep you off
your feet.
It was late in the evening on October 8th, 2010. I
can’t remember what brought me to the university chapel. I think, I vaguely
remember. I was hanging out with a female friend. I liked her. She asked us to
go see someone. Her mentor, she called him. So I followed, blindly. By the end
of the night, I met Pastor Iren Emmanuel, then he was still a student. We had a
little chat and before I knew it that which I feared most had befallen me. I gave
in and accepted Christ. I went back to the hostel mixed emotions, asking myself
if I was ready for this. I wasn’t.
…To be continued.