My Story

I figured it’s about that time to talk about the major influences of my life which have culminated (in one of many ways) the making of this website. Please proceed with grace… 

I have been a Christian for as long as I can remember. Devoutly born and raised specifically in the Charismatic Catholic faith, I was surrounded by family and friends who also ascribed to the Christian faith. If you’re unfamiliar with the term “Charismatic Catholicism,” in brief, it exists “to proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord through the power and gifts of the Holy Spirit and to serve the Catholic Church in its renewal.” For lack of better words, it’s about as Pentecostal-like as Catholicism gets. While I no longer call myself a Catholic, something I still love about my Catholic upbringing is how much doctrine I learned. And while there was more religion than relationship taught, I had a firm grasp on the significance of church history and the reasons behind its practices. However, major key: it is not enough to know about God. It is more important to be transformed by God, and this only possible through relationship.

There are at least 2 points of reference in my life that I can recall deciding to follow Jesus in relationship. You’ll hear people emphasize significance of knowing the exact date and even time. And honestly, the first time I decided to follow Jesus, I remember my mom telling me to remember the day, but I was pretty young (around 9 years of age), and so I don’t actually remember the date. But later, I would attend the inaugural  “Beyond the Grave,” a play put on by a local church based on the Columbine shooting of 1999 that essentially, like other evangelical devices such as “fright nights” and “hell houses,” graphically conveys the message of the importance of accepting Jesus into your heart before you die, lest you be cast into the flames of hell for eternity. I don’t support using scare tactics to lead people to Christ, but that night I became more aware of the implications of my personal decision, more than I was before, so I made the decision (again) to accept Jesus. Honestly, I can recall many more instances where I said variations of the “sinner’s prayer,” not because my decisions the first time or subsequent times were not genuine, but because I’d come to a new realization of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. To this day, I use my birthday as a day to renew and meaningfully acknowledge and celebrate that decision.

In 2005, my parents made the executive decision to have our family begin attending a local, interdenominational church in exchange for mass a couple times a month. Soon, we went pretty much every Sunday to that new church but would still go to mass for the extraordinary Sundays. We eventually made that church our home in 2006.

I have always made it a goal to be surrounded by other Christians, and I believe that consistently having that kind of community around me is a huge part of what has kept me so unashamedly devoted to my relationship with God. It is so vital to live in community. It’s hard sometimes, as I am an introvert by nature but become supernaturally extroverted thanks to the power of God, ha (that seems like the most fitting explanation). My main “tribe” growing up consisted of other African Christians. Most of our parents immigrated to the US to continue their careers, and we their children were considered “first-generation” Nigerian (or respective African country) Americans. There was (and still is) so much solidarity in this community. We did life, all of life, together. We prayed together, ate together, and fellowshipped together. All the time. We sometimes even got compared to one another as a form of discipline and accountability (yikes). We first-gens knew we were not like our peers at school. Our parents, obviously way past their formative years, raised us like we were still in [insert respective African country, mine will be Nigeria from here]. So we had to learn to marry our Nigerian culture in which we were submersed with the American culture by which we were completely surrounded. Additionally, there was such a fine, infinitesimal, and many times indistinguishable line between faith and culture that, in a way, helped us hold more tightly to the core values of God and family. Everyone was African. Everyone was a Christian. Everyone was family.

In my spiritual journey, independent of the influence of others, God has always shown his faithfulness through my struggles and resultant successes. I used to wonder why I couldn’t have the stories of others that involved a time of spiritual angst and/or rebellion, followed by a poignant moment of divine intervention in which my life was completely turned around. But I realize that my dedicating of my life into God’s hands every day, even at the times when I question if it even makes a difference, gives God the opportunity to preserve me from self-destructive circumstances. This dedication exposes me to experiences that only make my relationship with and trust in Him stronger. Such experiences also help my testimony when sharing my faith with others, emphasizing how fulfilling life is when I seek first the kingdom of God over everything else. That’s my story, so far!

In love and veritas,

Chioma