Feels like I am finding my footing... A testimony.

It’s been a while, and I’m not even sure where to start the update, but I guess, like every normal person, I should probably start with a greeting?

Hi, how have you been?....

Yeah, that doesn’t sound natural even to me as I’m writing this. Oh well, let’s not do that again!

So, allow me to fire off honorable mentions of updates before I get to my point today. I survived the year of chaos, I graduated, completed my pageant reign, checked two other things off my bucket list, and I guess, in small and simple words, I finally found my footing with God.

And in more expanded terms, that is what today’s post is about. God. And my relationship with Him. A small testimony, if you will.

While I don’t think I have ever really been too far away from God, for a girl who was born into a family of believers, I had to find God myself, in my own complicatedly simple way. But through the rollercoaster of it all, God is good!

While starting from ninth grade might be too long of a story for one post, allow me to give you the CliffsNotes version for context.

Somewhere between 8th and 9th grade, in my attempt to create a space in school for young girls like myself who were going through the confusing time of puberty, entering the stage of menstruation cycles and experiencing a sudden influx of catcalls and body comments, a space where I could speak to my fellow comrades about the confusing realizations of our young teen lives, I stumbled into a deeper responsibility.

The space intended for girl talks turned into a safe space for girls who had, and at the time were actively, experiencing harassment and assault in school from older students, classmates, and, worse, teachers. And since my self proclaimed justice loving, future lawyer teen self was never one not to speak out I started to fight. Call meetings. Make legal threats to teachers, administration, and the school. Really, anyone who would listen.

And like they say, when it rains, it pours.

I witnessed domestic violence when one of my then-favorite uncles struck his wife while I was at my grandparents’ house. I was never really so far away from DV to be naive to its existence; that wasn’t the shock. The shock was knowing that what I saw as one of the most thoughtful and loving relationships was actually hiding a darker evil.

And I wish I could say I marched out, questioned my uncle, and demanded justice. But as my 14 year old stood shell-shocked, staring at my then-favorite uncle and aunt-in-law behind my grandparents’ house, and stared at her resigned face, I hid myself deeper into the corner.

It took me years to really forgive myself for that one.

And so with immediate shame afterwards began my outspoken words at home as well.

It was during this time of fighting in what felt like every space, while trying to figure out the ropes of high school, maintaining my academic pressure, and experiencing harassment myself, that I was often deemed a feminist.

I wasn’t familiar with the term, and as it was intended as an insult I didn’t really take it in. But after finding out that a teacher who had assaulted a few of the female students was finally fired, an upperclass girl said to me, “I guess the feminists win this round.”

And when I was recounting this victory to my mom later that day, my mom finally told me what a feminist meant and shared Chimamanda Adichie’s videos with me, a Nigerian feminist.

And that marked the day I claimed a term that was so often thrown at me.

I was a feminist because why wouldn’t I be? I was fighting for equality, dignity and safety. I found hope in its solidarity.

Now, looking back, I wonder if it was because “feminist” was the first identity that I claimed for myself and critically invested in before I even evaluated my other identities, especially the one I had in Christianity, that influenced my later denouncing of God and claiming I was an atheist.

It didn’t last long, and for that I thank God and His loving kindness and mercy, really! But it was a huge step for me because I had always been a 'God’s girl'. For as long as I could remember, I had been the annoying friend, or even child and sister, that insisted on the right ways, going to church, and family Bible study.

I had 'no chill' as I was told. Then I just wasn't.

But as they say, God can use all things for His good, right?

My declaration of, “I do not know a God that is so unfair to women, who deemed us second-class citizens,” led me to actually investigate the Bible and understand the true meanings of His words.

How lucky. How blessed I was that God didn’t give up on me when I did.

And so I started to learn 'surrendering'. One of my favorite words till this day.

And while after months of back and forth, prayer (I know, not sure who I thought I was praying to if I was claiming I was an atheist), and Bible study, God replaced my anger with curiosity and strengthened my helplessness with love. And that is the danger in the security you find or even look for in other identities, they are paper thin.

I didn’t have all the answers, but I knew without a doubt that I was loved. And so I came to the conclusion that the God who loves me this much, to give His only Son, would not order me to a “life of slavery.”

After all, what Father wouldn’t wish the best for His daughter?

That much I was sure of.

I wish I could say that was the last time I was lost.

While I never stopped believing in God and always thought I maintained a strong prayer life, with university came another challenge.

And what the devil could not destroy, he distracted.

I am reminded of the Parable of the Sower in the Bible, in Matthew chapter 13. As a child growing up being the “no chill girl,” my relationship with God was like the seedling that was in rocky ground. I received His word with joy, like the seedling that sprung up quickly but fell away when difficulties came.

And Just when I felt like I found my way, university came, I got distracted, then, a week turned into two, that turned into months, and suddenly three years went by before I could bring myself to church. Missing from service, I slowly started to find myself negotiating with the borderlines of sin because I forgot who I was and Who I was meant to prioritize.

My relationship was like the seedling that was raised among thorns. The busyness, desires, and ambitions of the world were choking it. As I put everything else as a priority, I was pouring resources into thorns that fought for competition, and before realizing it, I was dying and I didn't even know it.

And again, God, in His many mercies, saw my death before I did and took me off the road to death I was walking on.

He said, “Daughter, this is not the plan I had for you.”

So now, as I live the life that my Father oh so painfully redeemed, a life I was not worthy of, a life that I still stumble through and am continually shown patience in, allow me to have no chill.

A few weeks back, someone commented to me, “It’s not that serious, Feli. God will forgive you,” in an attempt to have me change my stand on something.

When I wouldn’t, that person went on to comment, “I guess if God was as good to me with travels and so many highlights and acceptance, I too would be serious about God. Feli has got to be God’s favorite because even when she is trying to fail, she succeeds.”

While it threw my group off at how bitter that comment came off, and had one of my closest friends springing to speak up in my behalf, no doubt in an attempt to prove how painful the behind-the-scenes of the past two years really were, the close calls, the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, the emergency rooms, I cut her off with a smile and a look, proceeded to simply say,

“I guess you’re right. I don’t want to play about the God that never played about me.”

It really was in that moment that I wondered how painful it must have been for God. For a Father to watch His daughter struggle through the life she fought the steering wheel of.

I thought about the many painful moments, suddenly grateful for God’s interference to protect me from worse.

And for God’s love that never gave up on the stubborn daughter and her idiotic choice to do it all on her own.

So, I am not ashamed to admit I am a Christian.

Before I am anything else, I am the child of God, bought through the blood of Christ. I am who the Bible says I am.

I guess I have no chill in saying that is my first identity, and that is my whole identity.

Not a feminist.
Not a lawyer.
Not a pageant queen.

A child of God.

And while I am still figuring out what that means, learning what it means to glorify God in all things I do, I am nowhere near perfect. In fact, I wonder if I may be an example of the opposite.

I am weak. I am naive, clueless, full of fear, and in most things, impatient.

But as I learn to lean, trust, and let go to the God who is Strong, Wise, All-knowing, and the source of courage, it feels like I am finding my footing.

It feels like I am home.

And so, I guess the prodigal daughter returns.