The Evolution of Your Thinking Through Jesus Christ

An Impressionable Mind

Matthew 13:18 NIV says, “When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path.”

I considered college to be an opportunity to find out who I really was, with or without religion. My thoughts ran wild, and my mind opened up to new ideas. I was waiting to be rescued from the disappointment of Christian life.

My mind was awaiting stimulation; this desire opened a doorway to the Fruit of Islam. My roommate introduced me to members of the Nation of Islam. She hadn’t converted, but she had strong beliefs in the faith and took it seriously enough to change her appearance. I admired that.

Members of the FOI (Fruit of Islam) were very disciplined—something I had never witnessed before. They seemed knowledgeable, respectful, and wise beyond their years. They knew who their God was and had answers for every question about their faith.

Because of my lack of knowledge about Jesus, I was impressionable and fell under the influence of the FOI. They were always teaching, and I was eager to listen.

I thought I could find answers to the things I was unsure about in Christianity. I assumed all religions were the same, and their responses might apply to the questions I had.

Although they didn’t believe Jesus was God, He was acknowledged as a prophet. I thought it unusual that there was any belief in Him at all. Nonetheless, somewhere within the teachings, I managed to move away from Christ.

Though this faith denied Christ as the Son of God (as wrong as I believed that to be), it made more sense to me at the time than what I actually had been taught in church. Although I wasn’t learning anything about the nature of God, their methods of reaching people captivated me.

They had confidence in what they taught and clarity in their statements. However, they spent a lot of time debating what Christians believed and making people feel foolish for not knowing the Bible. I was that fool, and I was ashamed.

My time with them taught me more about the leader of the faith and a considerable degree of black history than the true nature and character of God. While it was good to learn about the historical accomplishments of my culture, it was not the knowledge I was seeking.

I felt more lost and unsure of my personal identity because I was drifting further away from the truth. I did not feel rooted in the faith of my upbringing; neither did I feel secure in what I was learning.

I had finally received answers but none that pertained to my questions. I had no understanding of God in what I was learning. Accordingly, my thoughts became confused and divided.

The only truth I was sure about was that my denial of Jesus had broken our relationship. I felt stuck between a religion that taught me all the wrong things and one that radically opposed everything I thought I knew.

Two young men drew me deeper into this faith. I believed because their actions lined up with what they were teaching that it made more sense than the Christianity I knew.

These young men had respect for each other. They had a brotherhood that could not be broken. They spoke confidently about what they believed. And they read the Quran (Islamic religious text) and the Bible because they wanted to have knowledge to speak about both.

I was captivated by a faith that acted on what it taught. Still, I did not fully commit or convert to the faith. There were strict disciplinary rules for women. I had serious doubts about claiming to be God, and I certainly didn’t feel comfortable about denying Jesus.

The depth of the word that was planted in me was in conflict with these new ideas. However, in accepting this new faith, I buried those thoughts deep inside. I knew I could be out-reasoned with clever words by the FOI. Therefore, I accepted what I heard as the truth.

One day, an argument broke out between a few of the FOI members and a Christian friend of mine. Something blatantly disrespectful was said about Jesus, and it ignited a war. The argument got really heated, and my Christian friend flew into a rage. “Blasphemy!” he shouted with great conviction.

His anger was so passionate that I could literally feel the pain. He seemed noble and fearless. It was amazing, and I secretly admired him for having the courage to defend the honor of Jesus. Adversely, I banded together in mocking the Jesus I too once honored.

I felt shame, but I didn’t let it show. In that moment, I made a public declaration to no longer be a Christian, and I had to stand by it. Mockery was not a part of the plan, but I didn’t want to be the one being mocked. I didn’t have that kind of courage to stand up for the truth. I had fear.

I even claimed to be Muslim to my family. I believed the way I was raised was wrong, and my claim to be Muslim was a declaration that the Christianity my family practiced was wrong.

During a time when I should have been growing in my faith, I was changing deities. Growing up, I thought I knew everything I needed to know to get into heaven. But my learning about another religion triggered questions about my identity as a Christian.

I couldn’t understand why other people had a basic understanding about their religion, and they could explain it to me. But I neither knew the fundamentals of Christianity nor could I explain anything that didn’t involve what to wear or what to eat on Christian holidays.