EnidSong

By Enid Ning

“And that’s how I became a Christian.”

I didn’t say anything for a while, as I pondered Diana’s incredible story. Shocked and grief-stricken at the death of a close friend during what should have been a harmless beach party, this “party-girl” had sought solace and answers in the church. Although she had not found the answers she was seeking, she had been impressed by the peace of the Christians, and had soon given her heart to Christ as well.

I opened up my mouth to share with Diana as well, but all that came out was a sad mix of bitterness, hopelessness and arrogance. Brought up in a church-going family, I was still very confused about Christianity and God. Confusion was compounded by my deeply wounded pride at being rejected by one of the fellows in the church I had liked. I was at a point where I could not see myself attending church in the future.

“And that’s what’s wrong with my church,” I concluded lamely, but with as much bravado as I could muster.

Diana didn’t say anything for a while. Then, she said quietly, “I’m sorry your church is that way.”

The first spark of shame came alive in my heart at that response, although I didn’t recognize it at the time. All I knew was that Diana’s response made me feel – well, different. I stared at the highway bleakly and held tighter to the steering wheel of my aunt’s white Honda Prelude as the miles slipped away. Diana, Betty and I were on our way from Toronto, Canada to New York City to stay with a mutual friend, Debbie.

One week later, I was relaxing on a cot in Debbie’s basement in Queens, my eyes closed, waiting to use the bathroom. It was the last night of our vacation. It had been a confusing week. On emotional overload, I had unexpectedly “shut down” every evening around 8:00 p.m. Diana would then drive my car back to Debbie’s house. Her quiet acceptance was beginning to influence me more than I knew. Diana was brushing her teeth. Betty and Debbie were trying out a “Praise” tape in Betty’s new ghetto blaster.

Make me a servant, humble and meek
Lord, let me lift up those who are weak
And may the prayer of my heart always be
Make me a servant, make me a servant
Make me a servant today.

The gentle music floated above my hopelessness and despair. A curious new feeling was happening inside my frozen heart. I tried to suppress the growing inner desire to pray, but it increased. Finally, my heart almost bursting with prayer, I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. Diana, Debbie and Betty looked at me.

“Hey, you guys.” I tried to control my voice. “Let’s have a prayer meeting tonight before we go back to Toronto.”

They stared at me. All were Christians, but they hadn’t quite expected this from me.

“Sure,” said Diana. “Why?”

“I dunno,” I muttered, embarrassed. “Christian music does weird things to me.”

After we shared our prayer needs, we took turns praying. When my turn came, I prayed:

“Lord, I feel as if I’m so far away from you. I feel as if there’s a two-foot thick glass wall between you and me, or as if I’m on a cliff two miles distant from your cliff, and in between is this huge chasm that I can never hope to bridge.” I paused, and the revolting ugliness of my arrogance and bitterness suddenly overwhelmed me. I felt as if I were literally drowning in my sin. In my mind, I desperately cast about for any ray of hope, any solution to my problem, when suddenly it came to me. It was so simple! The solution had been right there in front of me all the time; it had been taught to me from childhood. Jesus’ death on the cross PAID for my sin and evil, and all I had to do was receive his forgiveness. In my mind’s eye I saw Jesus as a thin white lifeline tossed to me, and I grabbed on and clung to him with every bit of strength and determination I could muster.

“Lord, thank you for your death on the cross. Thank you that even though I can never bridge the gap, you already have. I receive your death in my place; I receive your forgiveness. Thank you, Lord, thank you! I will never be able to thank you enough for this wonderful gift!”

I sang all the way back to Toronto. We were dead-tired, and we lost our way twice, but that didn’t deter me. The prayer meeting had gone until 5:15 a.m., finishing when, at last, in desperation, I had seized Jesus as a lifeline. Right then, the two-foot thick glass wall that had separated me and God seemed to melt away, and my heart filled with the joy of God’s presence. We had slept for an hour and, at 7:00 a.m., jumped into the car to head home. Diana and Betty had a plane to catch in Toronto for Vancouver.

Full of joy, I wrote a new song when I arrived home.

Glory to God in the highest
For He is worthy of all praise
He’s the Creator of the whole earth
He lives in me, my heart always.
Once I was lost in my sin, deadened to the Son
Guilt and confusion barred my way
Then Jesus came and saved me — Worthy is the Lamb!
In Him my pain is swept away!
Glory to God in the highest
For He is worthy of all praise
He’s the Great Ruler of the whole earth
He lives in me–my King and Lord always.

I returned home to my church full of energy and joy, ready to support and forgive others their failings. How could I not? God had forgiven me the most incredible arrogance and bitterness. I could do no less. One fellow at church expressed it this way: “Enid, you’ve changed. You used to be a drag.”

Since that day, the energy and joy have never faded from my life. I believe these stem from the presence of God which came to me that late night in New York City. He has made all the difference in my life.