My sole, slow journey to salvation

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Alex Taremwa

Until the Sunday of October 2, 2016, I had  last stepped foot in church – by choice – on Boxing Day of 2007. Often  I went to church either by compulsion or obligation.

My absence from church for close to a decade should in no way be confused with my agnostic approach to religion. I am convinced that my relationship with Christ is a personal  matter.

However, over the years I have been judged, unfairly or not, as a pagan, an unworthy creature  who shunned Church fellowship and should be condemned to hell fire.

Although I acknowledge being a sinner, I used to believe  that by  doing all the good I could, I was still  worthy in the eyes of God.

In fact, I always  told my “judges” that they will be shocked on Judgement Day when they  see me walking through the VIP entrance (if such a thing exists) into Heaven.

I heard the voice of Jesus

So on Sunday of October 2, 2016, I freely made my way to Nkoyoyo Hall. That morning the choir outdid itself. Their voices were soaring far beyond the clouds, and as they sang the hymn “I  heard the voice of Jesus,” I was deeply touched. It was my first time to hear the hymn  but  it made a lot of sense.

Rewind  to the evening before and  how  I  got to Nkoyoyo. I felt like  I had  heard the voice of Jesus. I vividly  remember how I hurriedly  left  The Standard  offices that Saturday at 6.45 pm, to catch the Liverpool game screening.

Riding  on the boda boda, I heard  the voice of God. It  was not as  loud as portrayed     in the Bible where people fell off their feet.   Rather it   was in my heart – a request of sorts – for me to make  it to church the following morning.

In disbelief I purposed to sleep late that night so I could wake up past   church time, but surprisingly, I was up by 6:30 am the following morning. What excuse did I have now?

In Nkoyoyo Hall I sat in the front row and closely followed Rev Samson Maliisa’s sermon drawn from St Paul’s Letter to the Romans, Chapter 2.

“There  is no such a thing as super Christianity,” Maliisa   said,  adding that, “We all need divine help on a daily basis. We are all potential  candidates of God’s wrath and our judgment shall depend on what we have done – not know or believe!”

I could not agree more. I felt a strong  magnet pull  me  to  the front when the altar call  was made. As I rose from my chair I said to myself, “Well, it’s about time!”

The  special moment I always heard people describe was now mine to savour, as everyone stretched their hands out to pray for me, and every part of me felt free. That is undoubtedly the happiest day of my 25 years’ existence.

alex.taremwa@yahoo.co.uk 

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