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Rated: E · Essay · Religious · #1233647
At Church I was Touched By the Hand of God.
Have you ever denied the presence of God in your life? Most people at some point in their lives have. I was raised from a very young age as a Jehovah's Witness, and as such had very little knowledge of the true word of God. The Bible was just a teaching aid used along with their publications such as the Watchtower, which is studied intently every Sunday. The only time they use the bible is when they are quoting a scripture. Around the time I was thirteen or fourteen I started doubting many of the things I was being taught were the truth such as the existence of Hell and whether or not we go to Heaven. I believed those "false teachings" simply because I had read them from the bible, but since I thought the jehovah's Witnesses had the truth I simply pushed my feelings to the side. I joined their preaching service, got baptized at 15, and participated at every meeting. My life was going great in their minds. My mother on the other hand was not a Jehovah's Witness, and she knew their lies. Every time I'd see her she would push upon me the things I thought were apostasy. I'd just block her out of my mind and tell her she was crazy. Jehovah's Witnesses do not celebrate any holidays and I often wondered why since their only real excuse was that it's not in the bible so we wont do it, or the "branch" says we're not supposed to. I'll tell you why, because they want your money! The Organization of Jehovah's Witnesses is a very greedy and self centered organization. They do nothing for anyone inside their religion let alone all the less fortunate people on this earth.

When I finally got free of their gripping hold I wondered if there even was a God, and if there was, how he could be so cruel as to trick me for so long. I got very interested in witchcraft and magic and at one point even conjured up an evil spirit that terrorized me for longer than I can recall. I had finally reached my rock bottem and needed to work my way up. My little sister, who I may mention is now going through the phase I just recently got over, mentioned a church that some of her friends were going to so my mother and I decided we'd check it out. Sitting in the audience that sunny Thursday morning I felt better then I had ever felt before. I felt welcome, home. The closing prayer touched my heart and when he asked anyone that wanted Jesus to come into their heart to raise their hand mine shot up without a single thought. It was as if by a separate force. When the prayer was over a very nice middle-aged woman came up to me and introduced herself, welcoming me into the Church of God. I thanked her, holding back the tears that were quickly swelling. After she left we went home.

I hadn't thought about what had happened that Sunday for the next few days, but come Thursday and I had a letter from the church congratulating me for my decision.
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