Can you imagine all the Angels in Heaven rejoicing for you? Clapping their hands, singing, dancing, blowing trumpets. Just for you. Celebration and jubilation. You chose God and He smiled at you, with intense love, great happiness and parental pride.
Sunday, 8 October 2017 was the day the Angels rejoiced for me. A day of such joy, yet I’ve never really spoken about it. Why? Because if someone asks me why I choose to follow God, or what God’s grace means, or any of the multitude of questions that can be asked, I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer, and what then if my faith is ridiculed? What if people think I’ve become some sort of righteous person and don’t want to spend time with me in case I start sprouting bible verses? It’s taken me two and a half years to get to a point where I can say “So what!”, which means that the time has come for me to tell my story.
On 30 January 2016, my life became something I couldn’t imagine living (for now, let’s refer to it as ‘that day’), and I joined a group I didn’t want to be part of. From ‘that day’ on, for at least a year, anger poured from my soul. I was angry with God. I questioned everything about Him. I blamed Him and shouted that I wanted nothing to do with Him. But here’s the conundrum…I didn’t believe in Him.
On 30 January 2016, my life became something I couldn’t imagine living (for now, let’s refer to it as ‘that day’), and I joined a group I didn’t want to be part of. From ‘that day’ on, for at least a year, anger poured from my soul. I was angry with God. I questioned everything about Him. I blamed Him and shouted that I wanted nothing to do with Him. But here’s the conundrum…I didn’t believe in Him.
But God…
I had been attending Bryanston Bible Church (BBC) for about two years before ‘that day’. I didn't go every Sunday, but pretty often, more than I had ever imagined going to church! I attended the Alpha course, which left me with more questions, and I participated in the Bible 101 and 201 workshops which I found to be really interesting, but it was the sermons by Ross Lester, the Lead Pastor, that really drew me there. Ross spoke to my heart and my soul. He listened when I argued and patiently tried to answer every question I had. He became a friend. After ‘that day’ when my anger at God was so intense, the last place I wanted to go to was the church, but I was drawn there by the worship time. It calmed me. I didn’t go to the 8am or the 10am service when I would see people I knew, but alone to the 6pm service. I’d sit in the same seat and I’d listen. Then I’d either sneak out and head home or Ross would sit beside me, listen to my questions and answer them as best as he could. God knew that I needed to be there, and He found a way to get me there. My heart was still hard, but in hindsight, I wonder if it was me who wanted it to be hard. I didn’t want to soften to the world because that would mean that I was ok with how my life had changed.
Eventually, I rejoined the morning service, with Francis and our children. On Sunday, 8 October 2017 we didn’t have the kids with us, so we hopped onto the motorbike and sped off along the highway to BBC, wanting to get there early so that I could get my usual seat – 2nd row from the front on the aisle. I sit there because there is less distraction, no heads in front of me to peer around, so I can really focus on what is being said. That Sunday was a baptism day, but I certainly didn’t have a baptism on my mind!
Ross was preaching in his 2nd week of the Sola series. That Sunday his sermon was titled Sola Gratia. By Grace Alone. As I listened to him speak, I focused on every word and it felt like there was no one else around us. Ross, myself – and God. My heart was full, the tears were rolling down my cheeks. He finished his sermon and announced the time for baptisms. The band started to play and the vibe inside the church shifted ...Something inside me moved. I looked at Francis and I almost stood, but not quite.
Sometimes I receive messages from someone I love intensely. One of the first messages I received from her was about God, and now, sitting in my seat at BBC, as the excitement of baptisms filled the air, I thought of that message. The singing grew in volume, people were standing, applauding and smiling, but I sat scrolling frantically on my phone through all the messages I had received from that person. I knew that if I could find that message about God, then I’d stand up and choose Him – sounds like a test, I know, but I had to be certain. God speaks to us in so many different ways and this was Him. My heart was on fire, my stomach in knots, my legs wanted to stand but my heart waited, wanting that final sign. I was very aware of what an important decision this was. With just minutes to spare, I found the message! I turned to Francis and grabbed his arm…
From that point on everything is a bit of a blur to me, but not to Francis, so I’ve asked him to write what he remembers.
I had been watching Gwen throughout the sermon. She was engrossed! Eyes wide open and hanging onto every word. She had curled into a ball on the chair, hugging her legs with her knees at her chin. I could see the Holy Spirit wrestling in her. Ross finished his sermon and announced the baptisms. Gwen started scrolling through her phone when suddenly she turned to me and said. “I want to get baptised!” I had to do a double-take, I hadn’t expected those words to leave her lips. I asked if she was sure, “This is a big decision, it will change your life!”. She nodded and stood up but was bewildered and unsure where to go so I led her to the back of the church, out the doors and down the passage to where she needed to be. Sandy, the wife of one of the elders, was there assisting with baptisms. She knew Gwen’s story and bee-lined towards us, she put her hands onto Gwen’s shoulders, sat her down and said, “By choosing to be baptised you are declaring that the Lord is your Saviour, that He died on the cross for your sins and that He is the Son of God”. Gwen nodded and Sandy said, “Do you understand that by doing this you will have to call yourself a Christian?”
With my body shaking and tears pouring down my cheeks, I nodded again. At this point, I can imagine God’s joy, love, happiness, because which parent doesn’t rejoice when their children come home?
Not planning to be baptised that day, I had no clothes other than those I was wearing. Sandy gave me a shirt and a pair of shorts kept aside for such moments and while I ran off to change, she went out onto the stage and explained to a church full of congregants that there was someone else who would be giving her life to the Lord that day. She told everyone that the person being baptised had walked a long and tragic road. Ross heard it was me and insisted on baptising me himself.
When I got back to Sandy, the other BBC pastor, Buddi, was in tears, Francis was still awestruck and Ross had changed into clothes similar to mine. After all we had been through, he wanted to be the person to lead me into the baptism water, speak to me, confirm my love for God and then hold me while the water flowed over me – which is exactly what happened. As I walked out of the water, the congregation cheered – the same as they do when anyone is baptised, but there were others in the church who cheered louder because they knew how much this meant, that God can take the hardest heart and over time, mould and soften it. Some of them also remembered the day that I had last been on that same stage...barely able to stand, pale, filled with pain and despair.
A friend jumped up onto the stage and hugged my soaking self. He asked, “How do you feel?” and I said, “Like I can breathe”.
And the Angels rejoiced.
