As a child, I had a superficial understanding of Christianity; I certainly wasn’t a Christian, though. It was only until that fateful day in 1996, when I came home from school and noticed my mother, normally a strong-willed woman who was unafraid to engage men twice her size and height, sitting at the table on the telephone with a somber look on her face. After she hung up, I sat down with her, and she burst into tears. That day, she was diagnosed with colorectal cancer, and it was inoperable. She had been given no more than a year to live.
At that moment, all the capriciousness of youth and my embrace of immortality hit an brick wall. Hard.
In between taking care of her, I spent the next few months studying my faith system voraciously. Was there any veracity to the incredible claims that Jesus made? What are the benefits of being a Christian? If I prayed hard enough, would it spare my mother’s life?
After considerable meditation and discussion with my mother, in July 1997, I made a conscious decision to be a follower of Jesus. I walked down the church aisle during the altar call and turned all my struggles over to Jesus, who, according to 1 Peter 5:7, naturally cares for me and my problems.
The easy part was the altar call. Life afterward was hell on earth. Because of my new lifestyle, I had to sever many close relationships, mainly because they were not at all supportive of me any longer. I had to quit a job I was working that offered serious conflicts to my Christian sensibilities. I even had to distance myself from several family members who simply didn’t understand my choice of submission to Jesus. At the same time, the relationship with my mother, which was always tumultuous, improved substantially. I developed many friendships in the church I attended, and they were quality friendships. I also began dating people who were supportive of my lifestyle. Fair trade-off, I think.
Ultimately, I had hope as a Christian. But more than anything, it helped to prepare for the time when my mother finally succumbed to her battle with cancer. And although she left me, I was able to move forward from her passing in the arms of someone who, according to the book of Hebrews 13:5, would never leave or forget about me.