The Travails Of A Young Christian

I woke up with a start, the light from the room blinding. I looked around and saw a couple of boys in my room all talking. I guess that was what woke me up.  Normally I’d do my personal devotion but there were too many people in the room and I prefer to do it with some peace and quiet. I turned on my laptop to check the time. It was some minutes after eleven and I had finished exams two days before. I was thankful to be done and relieved all at the same time.

I said a silent prayer to God for thanks because well, my God is able. I went down two flights of stairs to the buttery and well, there was a bit of a crowd. And right in front of me was a course mate of mine and I asked him to help me buy two loaves of Chelsea bread and a bottle of lacasera. He helped me of course. The relief in my mind that I didn’t have to struggle with all the other boys, I wasn’t in that state of mind.

And then my friend asked me for some of my Chelsea and I stretched it towards him and he cut half of the loaf for himself. Normally in situations like this I’d instantly get angry, after all he came to the buttery to get snacks himself, so why get so comfortable with mine? A small voice at the back of my mind whispered to me to be calm. And calm I was. I found my way back to my room and right outside the door to my room, another course mate of mine met me and asked me for some of my Chelsea. If you do the math I only have a loaf and a half of some sweet buttery Chelsea.

I stretch out the half loaf that is left to him and he cuts it into half. Leaving me with a loaf and a quarter and of course, my lacasera. In a little corner of my mine I think o well I can still live with that. And with that I enter my room to face the boys that are still there and well, the rest is history. I only remember taking a few bites of the Chelsea and I was left with some of my drink. I still had some of my bread and my lacasera and suddenly I didn’t feel too eager to eat again. Someone came into my room and asked for it and I gave it away.

It wasn’t till the departure service that night that I remembered that I had gone through the day with barely a few bites of Chelsea and some lacasera and I felt hungry. But it was the last night in school before the semester ended and there was never food unless you had gotten it earlier. I was totally prepared to sleep early after all. I was going to be home in the morning so what was a night without eating to me, but then I found (more like, remembered) a can of baked beans in my bag and so I borrowed a kettle from someone downstairs and heated it up.

A friend asks me what I’m eating for the night. They are all eating indomie. And I don’t eat indomie. L . I mention to him that I had found a can of baked beans in my bag and it was being heated up and he asks for a little bit of it to spice his indomie up. The indomie had been previously spiced with tuna fish and whatever. I guess the spicing wasn’t enough. -_-. I actually tell him no, and he gets angry and calls me selfish. My mind goes back to the event of the day and the Chelsea and I point out to him that he ate out of my Chelsea and I didn’t even eat much of it. He refuses to little to whatever I had to say and I shrug it off. I head to my room and my baked beans and I eat it and drink water.

I head downstairs to talk to a friend and as we talk I realized something. Being a Christian (I’m talking a true born again Christian) is one of the hardest things in the world; some people have described it as being impossible. You have to consider people other than yourself, giving is a kingdom rule because Christ made the ultimate sacrifice on the cross by giving his life for us on the cross to redeem us from the sting of the law and death. So who am I to withhold a few worldly possessions that eventually fade away? And there are so many other things in the picture, there are constant temptations and distractions. Nothing beats the feeling that comes from having a personal relationship with Jesus and the Holy Spirit but it requires efforts on our part.

I don’t regret making the choice to follow the Lord. I love him and he loves me and we have a personal relationship but I’m still considered new and well God is still pruning me…. it hurts sooo much, but I know I’ll come out beautiful.



I feel like a tramp, a whore, a slut. I feel dirty, unclean, like a plague. And do you know the worst part? I can’t bring myself to stop. I feel this way after I have sex with someone. I start to wonder why I did this. I feel like my tummy wants to erupt and I want to vomit. My legs feel weak and I’m unable to stand. I pick my dress up from the floor. I look at the guy on the bed. I don’t even know the guy. All I remember was I was at a club and he bought me a drink and a drink after that and a drink after that. Truth be told, he didn’t need to buy all those drinks. I was his at the first glance, and the worst part was that I couldn’t stop myself. The good thing was I was too drunk enough to remember it.

I look around the room. Untidy, with clothes littered everywhere, bottles dumped casually all over the floor. He didn’t even have the decency to take me somewhere nice. I don’t blame him I was cheap. I head to the bathroom and throw up. I notice there’s no condom on the floor. I panic a bit. I hope the idiot had the common sense to at least use a condom.

I head back to the room and shake him back to reality. He grumbled and snorted like a little pig.

“Did you use a condom?” I scream at him.

“I wanted to, but you said you didn’t want anything between us” he smiled at me with confidence.

I swing at his face with my bag. It’s quite heavy and it knocks him out and returns him back to his somewhat drunken stupor. I head back to the bathroom. I can’t think, I feel dizzy, confused, angry, and sad all at the same time. I fling my bag across the room and I collapse on the floor.

The tears flow without any prompting or control. Every fear I had of sexually transmitted diseases or pregnancy came rushing to the surface.  I was finally ruined. The tears kept flowing. I looked across the room to where my bag was. The contents of my bag were spilled across the floor.

One thing pecked at me from everything. A black book I had forgotten I put there. The Bible my mother had given me when I turned 21 two years ago. It was open. I read the first passage I saw.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

I remember my mum always preaching to me. I usually wave her off and tell her I’m going out to a party or something. I realize in that one moment that I needed my mom. I wipe my tears and I pack my bag. I take one last look at the guy and I know that this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I take a picture of him with my phone for reasons unknown to me.

I meet my mum as she’s about to leave for church. I cry and hug her. She hugs me back and cries like I never left. I tell her I’m sorry. And she tells me she loves me. She then invited me to church with her. I’ve been to church before but that day felt like the first day of the rest of my life.

It’s been three months now. I’ve given my life to Christ and I feel like a whole new person. I didn’t get any disease from the guy. I guess God had his sights on me. I’m pregnant though. And I’m keeping the baby. One day I’ll show her the picture I took of her father spontaneously. She’s going to be my redemption.