The Day I Surrendered My Life to Jesus.

At the church, my friend announced to the Pastor and the congregation that I was there for prayers. She gestured for me to come forward, and though I was always shy around new people, I walked up to what I later learned was called the pulpit. Everyone was warm and smiling, and soon they gathered around me as the Pastor began to pray. I closed my eyes, listening to her words, but nothing seemed to truly sink in. I heard voices around me saying, “Yes, Lord, thank You, Lord,” and I just thought it would be over soon and that I would feel better.

I didn’t know how long the prayer had been going on when suddenly the Pastor stopped speaking English. I hadn’t been following much before, but at least I knew it was English. Fear crept in, and I opened my eyes, puzzled and confused. Then I heard a voice say, “Do not be afraid!”

I looked around to see everyone pointing their hands toward me, praising the Lord, thanking Him, and saying, “Yes, Lord.” The fear melted away, and as I closed my eyes, I began silently repeating, “I am so sorry, please forgive me.” Tears streamed down my face, and I felt something cool, like a perfect breeze, reach inside me, as if something was lifted out. I felt light, and the tears kept coming as I continued saying, “I am sorry” over and over. It felt like I could flood the floor with my tears, and soon I sensed I was no longer touching the ground. But when I peeked, my feet were still firmly planted.

I had always felt like I was carrying tons of bricks, my body heavy and weighed down. Then, in a single moment, it was as if something reached inside me and lifted that weight away. It was the most incredible feeling, one I still think about whenever I can, and it fills me with so much peace.

After the prayers, everyone welcomed me into God’s family. I had no idea what this meant, as I had never learned about forgiveness and repentance in that way. All I knew was that, in the Catholic faith, you go into a booth, confess your sins to a priest hidden in another booth, and he gives you instructions—at least, that’s what I’d heard, since I’d never done it myself. I’ve always had a strange discomfort with being shut in small spaces—claustrophobia comes to mind.

I wasn’t a devout Catholic, but since my family practiced the religion, we were baptized as babies or toddlers, which, of course, is too young to remember. I recall praying the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary.” From time to time, I would say these prayers while holding rosary beads, reciting ten Hail Marys, then the Our Father, and repeating until the beads were complete. I always wondered when I was supposed to make my personal requests—before or after? It just felt odd to me, and I never really understood why it was done that way.

As everyone chatted, the Pastor called me over. At that moment, I didn’t realize she was the Pastor; I thought she was just a lady who led prayers at their church. When I walked up to her, I was smiling, and she greeted me with a big, beautiful smile of her own. She took my hand and said, “Young lady, today God made you a promise. He promised that you would be filled with the Holy Spirit.” I replied, “Oh, okay,” and thanked her. I had no idea what she meant, but I figured I’d ask my friend later, feeling a bit embarrassed to ask in front of everyone.

When it was time to leave, I knew I had changed. The weight I’d been carrying was gone, and I still felt as if I were walking above the floor and ground. It was an incredible feeling. As I got into my vehicle, I felt truly happy, so glad I hadn’t stayed home that day, and deeply thankful for the experience. Then a question came to mind: now that I’ve surrendered my life to Jesus, what’s next? I knew I wouldn’t have the answer right away and would have to wait until I could ask my friend the next time we spoke.

The ride home felt different. I didn’t turn on the music, just savored the memories from that moment. I was genuinely happy, and I truly meant it. Unlike before, when I could tell everyone I was happy but felt dead inside, weighed down by misery.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and even though the earlier events had been terrible, they were replaced by something wonderful.

When I got home, my mother was in the living room and asked how it went. I told her how amazing it was, how they had prayed for me, and how much better I was feeling. She was thrilled to hear that. I didn’t share all the details yet, choosing instead to reveal them little by little. I wanted to take it all in first and see where it might lead me.

That evening, I thought, ” What now? I became restless, but I did not want to call my friend because it was late in the evening, so I would have to wait until morning. However, it would be days before we would speak again.

That day marked the start of my love story with God, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m blessed not because of anything remarkable I’ve accomplished, but because of His love and mercy. He forgave me, and by His grace, I am saved!

Praise the Lord!