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My God and I

by DULCIE OFORI-AKUFFO  
3/20/2008 / Relationships

I was born into Christianity. Christianity in this context being the religion one automatically belongs to if their parents are not actively involved in any religion in particular, that is, from my part of the world. My dad named me Dulcie (Dulcie means sweet). I learned pretty recently from my mom that he always wanted a child with lots of hair on her head and as beautiful as she was, and when he saw me the very first time, he thought he had gotten what he wanted. I understand now why he called me 'sweet'. My middle name is Akorfa. In the 'ewe' language, spoken by the people from the Volta region of Ghana, West Africa, from where my father comes, 'Akorfa' is a word expressing the heart's satisfaction. I am the only child among my mother's three who was not named after somebody as tradition requires. My father simply called me by what he saw and how he felt.

There was nothing like going to church or being taught at home about God. The first church experience I had as a child was when the house help would occasionally take us out to listen to a now world renowned preacher who at the time had just started preaching on a large, dusty football park to anyone who cared to listen. The only time we learned songs or prayers or heard bible stories was at school; almost all schools were automatically Christian if they were not strictly Muslim.

I loved to read. My mom says I was reading her wedding bible very fluently by age four. I honestly don't remember doing that, but I remember her buying us 'the children's bible'. I guess my particular interest in her wedding bible, one that was hardly ever read, must have been her reason for buying us one of our own, the focus probably being on me. It was the most exciting thing ever to read!

I happen to be a very passionate person right from as far back as I can remember. I loved to take my time to turn things around in my mind and in my heart, looking always for something sweet and beautiful; one little, good thing even in a horrible incident or situation. I would create things in my mind and plan how they were to be implemented; everything having originality and style. I would search for answers deep within me if I didn't quite understand something. There was something inside that made me believe so strongly that I could do anything I desired to do and do it with such passion and beauty, originality and creativity, it would stand out amongst the lot. And I actually would do it! All I needed to do, for example, was to think and desire to memorize and recite a poem with several verses in let's say ten to fifteen minutes and not only will I be ready to recite it to the whole school once that time was up, but will effortlessly get every single person, including myself, so attentive and listening and feeling every word for what it is. Somehow the same thing happens with everything I do. Something inside naturally makes me want to be outstanding in my performance whatever the occasion.

I was almost always smiling; I still am, even in situations when I wasn't supposed to. In his official report concerning me for the month, one of the positive comments my boss made about me was 'she wears a smile the whole day'. I said wow! Now that was a wonderful word picture of me to encourage me. I remember times when I would get scolded for smiling all the time. That is not to say that I never got or get angry. I'm human. I did and still do. The thing is, somehow, my anger seems to disappear as quickly as it comes. Sometimes I have to make a mighty effort to get angry in order to put a message across and then I'd find a way to hide the smile creeping up on my face.

I loved stories about Jesus and God. I loved the songs we were taught in school and would sing them over and over back at home until I could feel the meaning of the song, even if I didn't get all the words right. I had this curiosity about God. I wanted to understand who He was, but until I could, I just had this total and deep respect for Him.

I never forgot the one prayer our mom taught us in 'ga', her local dialect. I thought deeply about this prayer and really believed it. It was a child's simple, bedtime prayer. It said: 'When I'm going to sleep at night, ten angels take care of me: two stand at my right hand and two at my left; two stand over my head, two around my feet and two come to cuddle me to sleep for the Lord Jesus. Amen.'

All these made me wonder more and more who this God must be. I could feel His 'specialness'. I had a special liking for Him, but I still went ahead to do all the things I shouldn't do. I would usually feel bad about it, sensing that He had seen and heard everything, but would brush it off, hoping it didn't bother Him too much. Sometimes I'd even say a 'sorry'; somehow I meant it. I would only talk to Him when I needed some help with my academic examinations or when I was in one kind of trouble or the other and He usually would answer me. It made me marvel at His patience! He tolerated me even when I thought I was too bad believe me, you wouldn't want to know, but I did some real bad stuff. Yet He would be right there anytime I would call on Him.

Some time when I was much older, I spoke against people who tried to make me stop the wayward life I was living. It was very easy for me to get people laughing at them because my voice seemed to have such power I could command a crowd! I still have that asset. These children of God meant well, they just couldn't get to me because they were either too shallow (if they were just church-goers) or too vain (most pastors). I know I didn't mean to slander God because I never lost my respect for Him. But my guilt was from ridiculing those who claimed to be his children because I simply couldn't 'feel' whatever they said even though they spoke of the truth. Their words seemed empty as though they were repeating something they had heard from church or elsewhere but didn't really know the import.

None of them could answer the usually deep questions I would genuinely throw at them. I would ask these questions secretly and truly hoping to find the truth; but I was never satisfied with their answers. I searched the bible sometimes, read and watched and listened to a few Christian stuff to find the truth but never really found it. I went totally bad and tried to avoid Him as much as I could so I could be free to do whatever I desired and not feel the guilt. I think I got to that stage; the stage where your conscience becomes completely numb to sin and you feel no guilt; where you do your worst and anything said about God is foolish to you. There's no word like morality in that world and you're free from having to worry about eternity and heaven and hell. There're no ten commandments, only one: HAVE FUN, AS LONG AS IT'S DIRTY!!!

And I did!

Only, there was this painful emptiness growing inside me as I got morally worse. I tried to fill the emptiness with everything I thought could possibly fill it: I thought I needed a man to fall in love with but somehow I always ended up a victim; sexual pleasure: I never found the satisfaction I thought I'd find; dirty money: I spent it on useless things like scanty-looking clothes, shoes and perfumes; sometimes, I didn't even know what to do with this money; profanity was the only available air to breathe. This filthy air was beginning to nauseate and choke me. It was beginning to disgust and wear me out. I would feel this strong pity for myself at the end of each day; this strange and strong uneasiness. No matter how much dirty, nauseating fun I forced myself to have, I would feel that emptiness. It felt as though I was losing something, as though I was getting finished; depleted. Everything I had acquired through this lifestyle felt as though it was not real; a mirage. I didn't feel secure with these things. I felt that they would be gone with the wind any moment and I'd be a total loser.

A day came when I decided not to go anywhere for the day. Truth is, I didn't have anywhere to go. I spent the day around the house, mostly in the bedroom I shared with my sisters. Ah! How stressful it was to hang around that house! The air always hung heavy with hatred, envy, suspicion, anger, rebellion, division; every negative thing that comes with a broken home. One just needed to find a way to escape everyday! Unfortunately, my idea of escape was leading me further and further down the alleys of hell.

I lay down on my bed and tried to sleep. I'm not sure whether I was asleep or not but I saw someone so skinny he or she was just skin and bones. I have no idea who I was talking to but in this dream-like state I asked who this person was. Well, I was informed it was me. That was my spirit-man, lean, hungry, unfed for so long a time. It was nearing its end.

Somehow I didn't dispute the answer. I wept! I cried out loud, pleading not to be that creature. I begged and begged and suddenly, I was awake still panting and weeping and still begging audibly.

I jumped out of bed and urgently started looking for my bible; the one given to me on the day I was officially confirmed into the Presbyterian Church. I dumped it somewhere the very moment I got back home from that ceremony. I found it hiding somewhere, covered with dust and cobwebs. I needed to know the meaning of what I had just seen, but how did I know that was where I would find the answer? I don't know. I just opened it and landed somewhere in the book of Isaiah. God was rebuking Israel for being a prostitute and spoke of all the evil that will befall her because she had rejected her God.

Folks, everything God said Israel was, was what I was at the time; it was as though He was talking to me! Today, I know He was and His words brought me down on my knees. For the first time, I said heartfelt things to Him about forgiveness of my wrongdoings and promised not to go back to my old life again.
And I didn't. His message was loud and clear. I turned up at weekday youth service that very same night. People stared at me as though they had just seen a strange phenomenon. I doubt if they heard anything that was said that night.

From that day they gossiped about me day and night at every gathering even with their expressions and their thoughts as though their mouths were not enough to do justice to what they were witnessing. Thank God they did! I never saw the magnitude of my moral decadence as much as I did through this period. Thank God for the strength and boldness to go through the times with my head lifted up and with a smile that never seemed perturbed even with tears running down every cheek; even when they mocked me in the face, calling me 'Madonna in the pulpit' because I decided to use my beautiful voice to sing for the God who rescued me rather than the immoral songs I used to sing to the world and its god.

I needed to recount these landmarks in the story of my life so I would realize something wonderful. Every single time I had searched deep within for an answer to something that bothered me, was a moment I had unknowingly linked up deeply with my Father. My search for good in otherwise negative situations was a reflex search for my Dad in times of trouble. You know, if God is good, then good is God, and I would find Him right there that very moment and His peace would be the reason I would smile. He's the One who always gave me that strong belief that I could do all things and do them with such remarkable grace and beauty. He made me just like Himself; the creativity, originality and style. I've always looked and behaved so much like Him, no amount of sin the devil caused me to sink in was enough to hide me away from Him or mar me in anyway. Every strength or virtue sown in me right from start which I ended up using for evil He caused me to use for good again to the glory of His name. I even began preaching to the same people I had caused to laugh at those who ever dared to preach about God; but this time, with the same passion, creativity and originality and style that has always characterized my personality - they couldn't help but listen and not doubt!

The change in my life was very radical. Overnight, I had become the exact opposite of who everyone had known me to be. I began my journey anew with God. I would learn later on that this journey was not a new one at all; that it began before He sent me forth to earth via my mother's womb; that somewhere along our journey I took the wrong turn and lost Him; that He never lost me; that He knew just how to lead me back to Himself; that the part of the story where I got lost was necessary so I would learn how not to lose Him again, so we would continue the journey according to plan; that nothing was a mistake; that all things always work together for my good; that I'm more than a conqueror; that nothing that ever happened since I was born was a coincidence; that my steps are ordered from above; that He'll always be my Dad.

Dulcie is a thirty-two year old wife and mother of four. She currently lives and works with a leading mobile telecommunications company in Ghana. Her writings are usually non-fiction and center around God, love songs and her own life experiences.

March 2008 Author Dulcie Akorfa Ofori-Akuffo

Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com-CHRISTIAN WRITERS

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