How I Started Attending Church Services
On many occasions, Sundays come as lazy days and many people just want to sleep off the day or spend it at some park or leisure centre. This is contrary to scriptural demands for observing Sunday as a prayer day. The challenge rests more with teens as they try to find their identity and want to keep themselves in control of everything and one way of knowing that one is in control is defying norms set by the society. It is not that teens do not understand the concept of going to church; it is just away of having people know that there is some development of self-governance taking place. However, there are those teens who instead of struggling with people over going to church, find church attendance and involvement in church activities as a great way of escaping from the controls f the world and just being free on their own. All this comes to the realization as the need for freedom as a driving force for teen’s choice of church attendance or refusal funny realizing. I have been a victim of both sides and that makes my understanding of the situation faced by most teens in making this choice very familiar and dear to my heart. I never understood why people struggled so much to make the church preparations until the day I met a reason to clear my mind from doubt.
I failed going to church for several months and my parents became distraught about the issue. I did not seem to care and even when my friends could no longer keep up with my unbecoming behaviors, I still went on. Suddenly, I realized that things were not right. I was being hooked into drinking and smoking, my friends left me and I felt all alone. On this particular Sunday, I was still sleeping after a long night out with my friends. I was woken by a startle from my mother and as usual, I told her to leave me alone. Her pestering just made me angrier with her and I shouted demanding that she leaves my room. She asked me to be submissive sometime and learn to love Jesus as she turned and left the room, tears coursing down her cheeks. I did not care about the tears all I cared about is struggling with Jesus when he did not care about my being fatherless. I felt in my heart that if Jesus existed and cared for us he should bring my father who had long abandoned us. I was hurting so much and all they could tell me was about going to church.
As I stayed in bed for the next ten minutes, I felt all alone and felt that I needed to see my mother and make sure that she was no longer crying. I knew she had already left for church and felt wounded as I was, so the best thing was going after her. Thirty minutes later, I was at the door of the church. I found the preacher going through the sermon of God’s love for his children. How he constantly called his children home and that he welcomes them with an open arm. This hurt me and I just wanted to pull mom out and talk to her. Standing by the door, I looked at the alter and saw a picture of Jesus staring right at me. An usher came to invite me in but I defied her offer, I felt transfixed on the spot and could not stop staring at Jesus. Tears coursed down my cheeks, I saw teens my age participating in the service, singing and dancing. I was about to call out for my mother when the priest called out for me to get in front.
The first idea that came to my mind was running away, but I felt so weak and numb that I realized that running was not an option. I looked ahead at the priest and saw him smile at me in such a warm and loving way. No one had ever smiled so genuinely at me and it pierced my heart that I covered my face out of fear. The whole service had stopped and all eyes turned to me. It felt like all of them had found their peace and I was the only one left out of the joy they experienced. I needed the same feeling, I needed peace and love and my heart ached at the thought of how lonely I had been lately. Then, as I was still standing there, I felt an arm touch mine. It was the priest; he had come for me to welcome me to the house of the Lord. For the first time, I was not scared the touch gave me reassurance and I realized that I needed more. He took me to the front and settled me on a seat where I sat blankly for the rest of the service. There was no more pain but gladness that I could belong in the church and be happy like the others. I knew it would be hard and long and I was ready to give it my best. All those who knew me at the church hugged me with love and the most memorable hug came from my mother. Since that church service, I have never missed Sunday service and I participate in church genuinely.
