My Salvation Story (Part 1 of 3)

This is my salvation story.

I came to sincerely know the Lord in 2008. I guess I technically grew up in the church. I was born and raised in the Celestial Church of Christ (Cele). A “church”, with origins in Nigeria. We faithfully went to church every Sunday. I can recall early morning family altar prayers at 6 am that really really got on my nerves. We’d spend hours at church in service and then hours after while the adults participated in various meetings. Sundays at church were easily 6-hour days. I think this is why my friends from this church became family – even until today. When I finally experienced the presence of God, it became clear to me that although I claimed to be a Christian, I wasn’t.  I didn’t fear God, I was afraid of Him.  I didn’t know Him, I didn’t know His word…real talk, I’m not even sure I understood what Christ came to do. I always joke that I couldn’t even quote John 3:16. I’m so happy that it all changed for me and I want to share my salvation story with you.

Early Church Experiences.

I remember Bible Quiz competitions I was proud to participate in and win. I was always great at memorization so it was easy to recall things like Jesus being traded for 30 pieces of silver and that it rained for 40 days and 40 nights in the time of Noah.

I remember the summers at church consisted of weekend practices for talent and fashion shows. One of my big cousins would come to pick all of us up and we would pile into her little car. One year, I was in a group that danced to Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody” and rapped Mia X’s verse on “Make ‘Em Say Ugh” ( and I totally just rapped the whole thing in my head 😂). Yea, I know.

I remember some Sundays, adults got in heated arguments. Those arguments turned into bloody fistfights when discoveries of adultery were uncovered. I remember an aunty throwing a brick through her husband’s car window, and women fighting like people off the street. Heck, even I got into a few fights at church.

I remember in my teenage years, I attended dancehall reggae parties at the church hall that got really wild. I thought I was having the time of my life. My older cousins would let us drink. They’d come with their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends. Sometimes the Wolis (prophets/prophetesses) would be having service right next door. I remember watching old Dancehall Queen videos, practicing so hard in my room so I’d have the moves to show off at the next party. Being able to dance well was a BIG part of my identity back then.

I remember being molested at this church. I think I was about 4-5, maybe 6 years old. I used to wonder what happened to the guy, he told everyone I was lying. But I wasn’t. Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers and if they believed me. No one…not my parents, not my siblings, not my friends….no one spoke about it. I did end up talking about it with my sisters when I got older. I haven’t had the courage to bring it up to my parents. Not sure what I’m afraid of.

I remember my dad beating us with a wooden plank for not saying Hallelujah loud enough during service. My dad was a Shepherd (similar to a Pastor in most churches) and had his own church at one point. I don’t remember what age we stopped going to his church, but we never went to church as a family after that. It was always me, my siblings, and my mom. And then my dad somewhere else.

I remember my dad’s girlfriend? Mistress? I’m not sure what to call her. But I saw her last year at a wedding after not seeing her for over a decade and that was upsetting to me.

I remember sneaking off to Popeyes to buy slushies for $.35 during service.

I remember learning to jump double dutch in the church hall.

I remember being super excited to get hand-me-downs from my older cousins.

I remember having crushes.

I remember sleepovers with a VERY select few.

I remember feeding the homeless and being moved that one of the church aunties chose to cook and give back in this way for her birthday.

I remember that community being my entire world.

Remembering brings a flood of emotions. It’s hard for me to believe many of these things happened. I found myself texting my siblings “hey, do you remember _____ happening?” just to make sure I wasn’t tripping. I wonder if anyone around me truly knew the Lord or if I was just supremely distracted…blinded. I feel a little sad. I feel…happy…that my experiences didn’t end there. I struggled a bit with how much I should share, but when reflecting on my salvation story, I felt it had to start here…with these memories.