I was raised Roman catholic. A staunch one for that matter. So staunch I had made up my mind to become a priest by the time I was joining high school. How I ended up a married father of two is a story for another day. Growing up in a pious household was filled with all the bells and whistles you would expect. We prayed, we honoured every church tradition, Lent was adhered to to the letter, Christmas was about the birth of Christ, I did all the expected rituals of a growing Christian boy, joined the Alter boys group, volunteered in Church… I could go on and on but you get the point.
I was a good boy, no question there. In fact my Dad used to pride himself in saying how drama free I had been as a Son, and how I had set such a good example for my siblings. But then again when you come from a relatively humble background, your one ticket out is your Academics, so anything that threatens that ticket is shunned, and shun I did. In high school adolescence hit, and with it the stereotypical confusion exacerbated by peer pressure. So I riffed and raffed here and there. Nothing dramatic except for the one time my friend and I were caught sneaking out of school by the uptighter than uptight Chemistry teacher. Despite our repeated pleas, he still reported us to the head teacher, who proceeded as per protocol to send us home to bring our Fathers. I had had such a clean behavioural record up to that point, I think my Dad was partly relieved that I had it in me to bend some rules here and there. He took me out to a hotel for dinner and the next day dropped me back in school. We went through the charade and off I was back to class.
I gave my life to Christ in Form Two of high school. Whether I fully understood what I was committing to at the time is debatable. Remember I was a roman catholic. A staunch one. But something about that preacher and the things he was saying moved me to tears. So when he made the altar call, I didn’t even hesitate, I went right up there, got prayed for, cried some more, then they took us to a back room and told us a lot of things related to the choice we had made that day. That very evening I rescinded by call to salvation.
One of the things they had asked us to commit to was a daily consumption of the scripture through Bible reading. I didn’t own a Bible. So that evening just before Preps began, I went to the class of one of my compatriots in Salvation to borrow his. He took his sweet time to dig it out of his desk and by the time I was heading back to my classroom it was already Preps time. I stumbled into the Teacher on duty who that very morning had been supervising the Alter call. I think she even stood behind me when the Pastor was placing his hands on me lest I fell like some others had. She asked me where I was coming from, and why I was late. I told her the truth. I even had the bible in my hand to back up my story. She didn’t buy my story, called me a liar, and gave me 3 strokes to go with her accusation. I was heartbroken. I ran back to class, tears rolling down my cheeks, and made a decision at that moment that I couldn’t be part of a movement where betrayal and unbelief was rampart at such high ranking scales. So I quit Salvation.
Fast forward to 18 years later. After a lifetime of good and bad decisions, and a behavioural clean sheet that had accumulated enough black spots to turn my Dad into a pragmatist, I rededicated my life to Christ. It has been nearly two years now. I will start with the good. The Bible promises that when you give your life to Christ through embracing his death and resurrection as the eternal truth, then among the many goodies you get will be a Peace that surpasses all human understanding. It also promises that God gets to fight your battles, and no matter what treachery you face, you need fear not for his omnipotence is now on your side. That part has been amazing. I’ve experienced a Peace I had been pursuing for so many years at times it feels unreal. It’s really hard to put it to words. I’ve experienced miracles, not the hyperbolic ones, no, real life miracles that cannot be explained in any human way. I’ve gotten to study the Bible like I never did before and oh my my, I so wish i had started that journey many years back, for that Book truly has all the answers to life’s big questions.
Now for the not so good part. The part i’m still trying to figure out. In my Worldly days, if I could call them that, I was Mr. Fun times. I pushed the seams of hedonism to a point where pleasure seeking became the centre piece of my existence. Life is too short not to have a good time, I believed. Work Hard, play Harder was the clarion call of my social fabric. The problem with this is that you can’t sustain such a lifestyle without its evil sisters who go by the name of narcism and manipulation, while courting controversy and scandal. Relationships were frayed. Money was wasted. Opportunities to soak in meaningful life milestones were lost. One of my life’s regrets is barely remembering the first two years of my first born’s life, because I was too busy playing the Workaholic cool Dad who had it all. But say what you may about life on the wild side, the one thing you cannot deny is that it is a whole load of Fun!
Being a Born again Christian came with the need to really filter out the unhealthy side of Fun from the Healthy. Here’s the problem, nearly 95% of those activities didn’t make the cut, along with the Fun mates who came with those activities. And the remaining 5% was what used to be at the bottom of the Fun pyramid. You see my predicament? So i’ve had to relearn how to have a good time without putting myself into sticky situations, or how to not do Alex time at the detriment of my loved ones. This article is fairly anti-climatic as the answers to the question above still elude me. And if i’m being honest, some of the answers that have so far come to me are not really tickling my Fun bones. So aluta continua.
