There was one boy in particular that I became obsessed with. On our first date, he brought me to church. It was a Christmas program. I had fun and he brought me to church regularly after that. We broke up and dated again and broke up and dated again. We flirted. We messed around. The relationship began to model what I watched my parents do growing up. It was not healthy.
Once when we were at church, we were not dating each other. In fact, I think I was already dating someone else. I ran through relationships like toothpicks. There was an invitation to give our lives to Christ and accept Him as Lord and Savior. I accepted...again.
Throughout my childhood, mom would take me to some church or another. But God was distant to me...like my father. But during this particular invitation, I sensed there was something more that I was missing.
I went up front and prayed with one of the pastors. I was filled with the Holy Spirit and began speaking in other tongues. There was a power that I had never known before. It gave me a shimmer of hope. Something had changed inside of me. All of a sudden, I wanted to live.
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