Every Easter, I am reminded of the one reason I came to Jesus and started walking as His disciple. I have been walking with God now for almost six years. Prior to this, I was a New Ager, deep in the occult and worshipping creation, calling the "universe" my god. I studied many false gods, practised tarot, the law of attraction, and spent many hours in hypnotic states of meditation.
So — how did I end up devoting myself to Jesus Christ?
Prayer. I asked God candidly to reveal Himself to me, to reveal the truth to me. I had practised fruitless things in an attempt to heal myself to no avail, and was in fact making my mental health worse. The New Age tells us that we are responsible for our own healing — that if we think positively, we will attract positive things into our lives. A terrible burden for someone suffering from chronic depression. I was told to spend more time meditating, which looked like hours upon hours of observing introjected, dark, depressing thoughts and worries spin around my mind whilst being completely helpless and unequipped to do anything about it, having this promise of “enlightenment” and “peace” held in front of me like a carrot on a stick. Now I attack those thoughts with the word of God in the mighty Name of Jesus, and I actually feel a tangible peace that is beyond all understanding. (Philippians 4:7)
God answered me. I felt the peace I had been searching for so many years to obtain, when He graciously responded to my prayer and showed me first-hand why Jesus did what He did upon that cross 2,000 years ago. He gave me a peace that is beyond all understanding. He healed me.
I knew Christians, but I didn’t go to church. They prayed for me but judged me. They said Jesus loved me, yet treated me horribly. But there was one person who stood out — my Godmother. She never once ministered to me, never pushed religion or legalism down my throat, never condemned me. She simply loved me.
She had an aura about her that was magnetic. She truly reflected the love of God in my life, and she has always been an anchor in my faith. She was the reason I decided to come to the faith — I knew she had something I needed, and she was a woman whose footsteps I wanted to follow. Little did I know, she was walking in the footsteps of Jesus.
I discovered her love for God at her funeral, where one of her poems was shared. Every Easter I read it, and every Easter I am reminded to focus on loving my neighbour as myself, and loving God. (Matt 22:37-39)
Hail! Season of Eastertime
The blooming of oak and ash and lime
The returning of the summer birds
The singing of His holy words
For Christ He died upon Good Friday
And rose again on Easter Sunday
Rose to show the Lamb of God
The holy way the way He trod
His Father did not hear His pleading
When on the cross His feet were bleeding
His hands, His head, but most of all
His heart was breaking
Oh! Still I hear Him call
Then suddenly all the land went dark
The cocks did not crow and the dogs did not bark
My Lord had died but the memory lives on
The Son of God, the Saviour of man.— Margaret Elizabeth Heseltine
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