Cracked Roots and Roses 15: New

I continued my quest to know this Jesus. He was now my Friend. He was now my Savior as well! I wasn’t on the outside looking in—I was finally accepted. What a thrill! What a new lease on life!

I was now working part-time at a car dealership as a salesperson. Before the dream, I blended in with everyone else. We would stand around talking and laughing all day between deals. Then, I became the weird one. I couldn’t talk to anyone without asking them to please tell me more about Jesus. They weren’t much help, as this dealership was full of young party-goers.

I did know an older woman from Fields who always wore skirts, so I asked her. She invited me to her church. That was the first time in my adult life that I went to a church—and the first time in my life that I was actually excited to go. I could hardly sleep that Saturday night. I was going to a place that specialized in Jesus talk! I imagined being around folks who would be just as excited as I was.

Y’all know I was wrong.

I got there early and tried to sit in the front row but was escorted further back because those rows were reserved. That was okay—I just needed to hear about Jesus.

The choir sang for what seemed like forever. The children did something, the announcements took some time, and then they had everyone march their offering up. After about two hours of pomp and circumstance, the Pastor got off his throne (the chair was a legit throne) and started his message by bashing another church for being too big. Then, he hooped, spit, and hollered for another hour.

It was exhausting and disappointing. Nobody was friendly or happy. A few people spoke to me but, overall, ignored me. One woman in the bathroom struck up a conversation, and I got excited—until she asked me for money to help pay her rent. I was warned she was the “crazy” lady who targets newcomers and hits them up for cash.

After the service, I still went up when they opened the doors to the church because I figured they would eventually talk about Jesus. After I lifted my right hand and joined, I was escorted to the hall. Once in the hall, I asked the woman, “How can I learn the Bible and hear about Jesus?”

She smiled and said, “Sunday service isn’t for that. You need to go to Sunday school.”

Great. When is Sunday school?

That following week, Jeremy and I attended Sunday school. He was being kind because I knew he didn’t care, but he knew something had happened to me and wanted to be supportive.

In Sunday school, I learned so much about Precious Jesus. It was invigorating. I wanted to be baptized, so I got on the schedule and was baptized a month later. I also wanted a Bible and a few church clothes, but we had no money for these.

The Bible was the most important. I saved up for weeks and bought myself my first Bible and tabs. I remember sitting at the dining room table, carefully lining up every tab. I read my Bible every day.

I now understood.

I’m tearing up just remembering how I FINALLY understood. I filled notebooks with my new revelations and highlighted scriptures that jumped out at me. I was a new creation indeed. I smiled all the time now. I didn’t care about anything.

I was saved.

I was going to heaven, and I KNEW that with certainty.

I was still doing community service, but now with joy. On my last day of community service, a guy walked up to me and said, “Are you headed to Chicago?”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Can I get a ride?”

I said, “YES.”

I wasn’t scared of men anymore. This man was there doing community service with me and looked like a bona fide criminal, but all fear was gone. There was nothing but love left. I didn’t fear ANYTHING! I was not afraid of death—that just meant I would be with Jesus quicker.

After the day ended, he got in my car, and I drove him in the snow all the way to his destination. While driving, I asked, “Do you know Jesus?”

He said, “Nah, I mean, I’ve heard some stuff, but I don’t know Him like that.”

I said, “Well, let me tell you.”

So, I told him.

I told him about Jesus for more than an hour. He listened and nodded. I even caught a smile.

Before we got to his block, I asked if he wanted Jesus.

He said, “Yes.”

I pulled into the parking space in front of his building on the west side and led him in prayer. He thanked me, gave me $5 for gas, and got out smiling.

I told Jeremy about the first person I led to Jesus, and he got mad. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I had to do it. When the guy asked me for the ride, I felt like I had to say yes.

I was now being covered and led by a Higher Power. Perfect love indeed casts out all fear!

I would sit on the porch and tell folks passing by about Jesus. I even invited the Jehovah’s Witnesses to sit and talk to me. They did a few times, but their elder eventually directed them not to come back to my house. That was a bummer because one young lady was being won.

I was new. I was a new creation in Him. Old things were gone, and everything was new!

The church I was attending was dead, and even as a babe, I knew that. I didn’t know what it was, but I would feel agitated while there and less on fire when I left. I was being loaded down with religious rules and denominational doctrine that I didn’t agree with. They also didn’t talk about Jesus. It was always loud and drawn out.

One Sunday, the First Lady told all the women to stay behind for a meeting, so I stayed. She stood up there in her Dr. Seuss hat and pimp suit and said, “Ain’t no way you are a woman and are comfortable sitting in church in jeans. We are sanctified! We don’t dress like men.”

I was confused. Was she talking to me? I looked around, and yes, she was talking directly to me. She even rolled her eyes when I made eye contact with her. I was so embarrassed.

I didn’t have any church clothes. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs, and I just didn’t own any dresses or skirts. She didn’t ask that. She didn’t pull me to the side or try to figure out why I was always in jeans. She cared more about the law than the Man. I knew I never wanted to go back there.

That Monday, at the dealership, I stood off to the side like a leper, as usual. Most of my coworkers avoided me completely now because all I talked about was Jesus.

A coworker named Charpelle came over and asked me to lunch. She was in the older crowd at the dealership, so I didn’t really know her. I agreed because nobody else would sit with me. I was glad I went—she knew so much more about Jesus than anyone I had spoken to.

I was amazed. How did she learn all of this? I wanted to learn where she learned. Eventually, she gave me a business card-sized invitation to Living Word.

I realized this was the church my church was calling a cult. So I told her, “It’s a cult.”

She laughed and said, “Come see for yourself.”

So I did.

I went that Sunday. I walked in and felt the presence of Jesus. They were in the middle of praise and worship. It was big but small; I didn’t feel intimidated because the presence of God was tangible. All these different races of people, all with hands lifted in praise—white folk next to black folk just praising the Lord. Some people had on jeans, some had on suits, and others wore dresses. I was hugged and greeted by several people. I knew I would never go back to that other church. This felt like home.

The pastor didn’t wear a robe. He didn’t have a throne; he sat in the audience. When he taught, it was like a teacher—he would prove one scripture with two others and explain what they meant. He also spoke clearly and didn’t hoop.

This church was different. There was no mother’s board or special seating. We were all there for the Word. I had goosebumps. I sat on the edge of my chair until it was over. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Jeremy.

He came with me the following Sunday. When the pastor called for souls, he was up front before me! We both got baptized that day with about 20 others in a metal tub right there in the sanctuary.

When I stood up out of the tub, something was in my throat. It felt like I needed to shout or say something, so I held my mouth shut. After we got back into our clothes, they took us to a room in the back and went over various scriptures about tongues.

That was it. I KNEW IT without knowing it.

They prayed, then had us stand, lift our hands, and speak. I did. I felt my tongue turn over, and I was speaking in tongues. I had my new prayer language ❤️