The first week of resumption for second semester wasn’t as stressful as first semester. There was no need for medical, library, and the many other registrations that mark the beginning of a session. My dad refused my moving back to school in the first week—He claimed we could not have started work fully—so I came to school from home every day of the week. I needed every excuse to stay away from home. The two weeks break had been a little short of excruciating. I felt like my parents were watching my every move.
Ifeanyi and I had plans to meet in his room when he returned to school in the first week. We had spoken only spoken on phone after the kissing incident because my dad came to school to pick me the following day.
He had told me how much he really loved me, and why I should not be afraid of loving him too. He even told me he wanted to marry me, and not just have me for a girlfriend. In most of those discussions, I simply listened. He didn’t pester me to give a definite answer to his request too.
While I was on my way to his room on Wednesday, I wondered why I was going but I felt I couldn’t stop myself.
When I got to his room, he gave me a package as my ‘resumption gift’. It had a red leather wristwatch in it.
When his roommate left, he came closer and tried to fondle me on his bed. I allowed him for a while, and then stopped him.
“Okay, I understand you want to take things slowly.” He said, with a smile, as he moved his body away from mine
“I’m not in a hurry too. I will go at your pace.”
I didn’t look at him.
“We would just enjoy each other’s company. Maybe a few kisses and stuff here and there. We won’t have sex.” He continued.
When I still didn’t reply, he held my hand and turn my chin towards his.
“We won’t have sex.” He made emphasis on each word as if to calm me, “Or maybe just once, when we are about to leave school. So, we can use it as way of keeping our commitment to each other, in case our service states are different.”
I was too dazed to say a word. I only nodded while trying not to show my disgust.
My phone rang, it was my dad. I managed to use it as an excuse to leave.
On my way home, I knew I had to make a decision, a final one.
I pick my phone and send a message to Ifeanyi.
I can’t do this. I really can’t. I’m sorry.
I saw a call from him that lasted about 4 seconds. I knew him not to beep. I figured he might have changed his mind after the call went through.
I knew calling him back was going to mean I was going back on my decision, so I didn’t—I needed to start standing by my decisions.
After moving back to the hostel on Saturday, I went to fellowship the following Sunday. I found Ifeanyi seated at the right side of the hall at the far back, while I was looking around. The preacher spoke about following Jesus committedly. He said whoever wanted to follow Jesus must deny himself, take up his cross and follow Him. He defined denying oneself as letting go of oneself. He said the only way we would ever be able to follow Jesus alright is if we let go of ourselves to Him—by giving him our good, bad, and ugly. He said the reason why many of us find it difficult to follow Jesus was because we still wanted to control our own lives.
His words knocked the winds out of my sail. All I could see was I was a sinner that needed Jesus’ help. I felt rotten to my bones.
When He made an altar call, I wanted to go out but when I remembered it wasn’t the first time, I stayed back. What was the use promising God to be who I wasn’t sure I was going to be? I was still arguing with myself in my head when I remembered the preacher’s word:THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY.
When I eventually knelt at the altar, for a while, I said nothing.
“Jesus, you know how much I have tried to follow You, and how much I have failed.” I said, when I eventually found my voice.
“Yet, I haven’t been able to get You off my mind. This time around, I am not coming to promise You I would be able to. I am just coming to give myself to you—everything you already know about me.”
“I sometimes don’t know what You want from me. And even if I do, I am now sure I won’t be able to do it.”
“I can’t promise I won’t have to come again like this, like I have come many times before. But still, I come to ask you to help me. Help me to follow You. Teach me how. If truly there is space for me in Your Kingdom, help me find it.”
My mind kept wondering where the words were pouring out from, but with every word I say, I found a sense of peace enveloping me. Each word of prayer seemed to transport me to a realm where it was just me and Jesus talking. It was like Jesus was a real Person standing right in front of me and could really hear me.
When I got back to my seat, I felt like a fresh wave had blown across my heart, and swept off the cobwebs.
I wasn’t sure of what the day after was going to look like, but I knew that, that day, Jesus had forgiven me. And I was willing to see Him lead me—or rather be taught on being willing to see Him lead me.
I wasn’t sure of how, but I felt like I was sure of Who was leading me–for the first time.
Or was I sure? I chose to think so.
Thanks again for following. This episode is the last for the week. The next episode comes next Monday. But there would be a guest post tomorrow, just like there was last week.
Also, there are 5 more episodes in this season. Which means, the first season would be ending next week Friday, after which we would take some break.
If the Lord wills, I plan to write more seasons to show the progression Esther had in her walk with God. I really don’t know how far this will go.
If you have been blessed by this story and you would love to share your own story with me, please feel free to reach me through any of my contacts. One of them is email@example.com.
Have a wonderful weekend!
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