Note: This starts with a poem written after the most powerful, remember-able experience of my life which happened during years of incarceration.
This blog also is a rundown of how I went from being almost Satanic to truly believing without a doubt that Jesus is true and there. Enjoy.
“Have you ever felt a miracle
Miracles can happen to all of us
But when it hasn’t happened it’s so hard to believe
You hear about these miracles but you’ve never seen
Why can’t these miracles ever happen to me?
It seems like everyone has a testimony
Of how God showed his face, why are they so lucky?
“I pray and pray all day yet I still feel lonely
I’m starting to feel like it’s just not meant to be”
But one day God came down for he felt it was time
You cried too long my child, I will show you a sign
I’m getting goose bumps now as I’m writing this rhyme
While sitting here in jail for a most stupid crime
It happened at the time I was at my lowest
He’s shown me signs before I can make it a list
I only know it now for my eye’s been opened
Before there was no chance I was blinded by sin
Today I must believe I’m not given a choice
All doubts will drop and crash when you’re hearing God’s voice
When will he speak to you that’s between you and him
But I’ve confirmed he’s real and that’s not on a whim
I’m so joyful today for I know I’ve been blessed
I know you’re seeking too maybe from a deep mess
I’ll tell you though have faith, God will show you one day
The key is don’t give up, he’ll come running your way
For me I had to cry from true desperation
A stubborn fool like me who would never listen
But now I laugh real loud and I hope you will share
The chills upon my arm when God proves he is there”
Hello, I am about to tell you the story of a miracle. A story that if told to some people that knew me, they would immediately laugh and ask you to stop joking. This is a story of how I, formerly a miniature anti-Christ, ended up being saved. But before I go about the story, there is something you must know of my past.
I was born into a christian family, and I never missed a week of church since being a baby till the age of sixteen. I went to all the meetings and learned stories of the bible, as a typical teenage churchgoer might. I was raised with christian ways, and was surrounded by christian influences. However, at one point of my adolescence I reached the rebellion stage. Church went from a matter of routine, to a matter of absolute loathing. I remember in some teenage conferences, which had hundreds of God praising kids, I would be the only one sitting far off in the corner glaring,. When saints came to try and be there for me I would rudely order them to “buzz” off. Church was not a matter of learning at that point, but of challenging. And I know for a fact that even if a saint told me all the words to change me, I would not change. It was simply impossible.
On separation from the church life, my influences started to run wild. A darkness in me soured, and before I knew it I was caught with a firearm on a college campus and was thrown in jail. Eventually, I received a nine year split sentence.
Okay, so now I find myself surrounded by police, gangsters and criminals. Gone are the normal people of society. Gone are the saints that hindered me so much. My father would send me christian books during my incarceration which, after flipping through a few pages, I would get angry to the point of trashing the book. The books were unreadable to me. I attended jail bible studies on a whim for entertainment and found myself once again challenging the chaplain and insulting everything he said which I found no sense.
The matter degraded so much to the point I became almost demonic. I would make papers with curses on them and pictures of the Devil. Many people who knew me well outside would have stared at me wide-eyed at the state I had become. I was so full of evil. One day I got in a bible related argument with someone and realized my knowledge of the word was limited, which prompted me to read the whole bible in three months for the sole purpose of challenging its words. I had ten pages of hateful challenges by the time I was through. People who came to my cell were spooked by my demonic curses around the walls. They would not even dare touch them, as the papers said “Anyone except the Dragon (me) that removes these papers shall be cursed and not be forgotten.” There was more written, but I’d rather not disclose that here.
Fact is, I was practically Satanic. The bible infuriated me, I almost got kicked out of several bible studies for my cold behaviours, and any testimony of salvation from a person received from me a mocking laugh or a glare.
How can I change? It’s impossible. No words of persuasion can even reach me.
Until one day. I remember the feeling clearly, I felt death. I felt an ocean of depression and meaningless existence on my mind and heart. I felt doom. The feeling was so ice cold that I felt it almost physically. It was a dark, dark feeling. But I was not scared, I was never scared. Yet I felt a chill. I searched for the source of depression by looking around, and felt it resonating off the very cell walls all around me. It whispered from the lustful pictures of women on my walls., to the cursed papers stuck on my door. It was as though fog was floating from the very images leaving me in the middle of a cold, dark, lonesome cloud. It was too much. It was too depressing. I yearned for light, for the feeling of warmth, for the slightest feeling of peace. I immediately diagnosed myself of having a dead spirit.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was removing the pictures of women off the wall. I removed the curse. I thought of filing it, but instead threw it in the toilet and flushed it. Many say lustful pictures cannot bring the feeling I felt, yet for me it was different. My conscience screamed that it was an issue. I removed everything. Yet I still felt no peace.
Without thinking, I began to pray. You don’t know how long it had been since I’ve prayed sincerely. Even when I prayed before it consisted of challenges and insults. When I prayed before, it was like I was scolding God. But this time, THIS time, I prayed a cry for help. I begged. I spilled my heart to God and said “I need a sign. God, please show me! I have been lost, I’ve been at this too long. Please help me. I am depressed. I need your light.”
I prayed with all sincerity. I did not just ask, I begged.
Such was the level of my emptiness and depression. I begged for a change, and a sign. And suddenly…and I get the chills even as I write this, the cell became warm. The cold chilly cloud disappeared in a flash, and I almost felt a warm yellow light coming down from the heavens, and all my deadness was replaced with a feeling of peace, and light, as though someone was telling me that everything was going to be alright. After that, I lay on my bed and closed my eyes to sleep, feeling more peace than I ever felt in the longest time.
The following day, I received an email from my father about how to deal with Satan. I was lightweight impressed. But my parents occasionally emailed me scriptures so I kind of brushed it off. At this point of my incarceration, I have been down for a year and two months. Up to this point, I had not received any visits from anyone besides family. No one other than my mom, dad, or sibling. A year and two months in, I get called to an unexpected visit.
Imagine my surprise when I see a christian woman whom I had not seen or met in over seven years. I barely remembered her name. And the most shocking was what she first said once the conversation began. She said, ” I do not know why I am here, but I just felt a need to come see you.” How fascinating is that? So she and I conversed for the duration of a visit and I learned priceless knowledge of the bible from it. Okay, that’s fine and dandy. Time to return to my cell.
I go back to 100 pod, cell 16 and try my door. It didn’t open. I sighed in annoyance. The guards are supposed to let me in after I check in! I went to the “call’ button and pressed it. As soon as I heard it click I impatiently said, “Lee, cell 16.”
The guard said, “Lee.” I said, “What?” He said, “You have another visit.”
Now I’m really shocked. It must be family this time.
Low and behold, it was a church brother.
When he sat down, I asked him if he saw the sister from earlier, and he said, “Yeah, I passed her just a second ago in the visitor hallway.” I asked, “Did you guys plan this out?” And he said that he had no idea she had also come to see me.
Now at this point, what can I say? Immediate after I prayed to God for help, he throws three solid blows to my face. At this point, how can I not wake up?
Looking back at that story, you can notice that it was not just a person’s actions or words that changed me, it was not a sudden interest in the scriptures, but rather, it was a solid, unmissable answer to a prayer made from desperation.
And my fellow reader, I must, MUST testify, that upon this amazing miracles occurrence, I felt light. I felt peace. With the temptations put away from sight, with my reconnected fellowship with God, I changed practically overnight.
What a miracle this is, what a…an impossibility. Yet it happened. I had my family resend the books I once tossed. I spoke my testimony and watched the unbelief and unspeakable joy in my father’s eyes as he heard my words and change of tone. And most of all, I felt a change in grace in my very self.
Alone I would have failed. Try and try as I might, I never would have made it.
But through prayer and a sincere open heart, God was able to come and show his power.
What more can I say? Today I find myself awkwardly telling people the very words that once sparked me to fury, telling people my story and newfound love in Jesus’ blessing. Gone are the challenges. They don’t even matter to me anymore. In fact now they almost make sense!
I truly hope that careless sinners or unbelievers will one day feel as I did on being saved. I hope they will feel my joy, enlightenment and peace. Prayers to Jesus can do wonders, but they must be sincere. You yourself know in your heart whether or not you are sincere. It does not matter how others perceive you or how you speak outloud. When your heart is sincere, God listens, and he will answer.
I am not claiming now to be perfect, or to be immune to sin. No one is. But what I mean to convey is that with fellowship and contact with the Lord, miracles happen. So one day…try it. Before it’s too late. 🙂