When I was 11

When I was 11 years old, we had a revival at church. Now, this wasn't anything new, we had always had revivals at church for as long as I can remember, and I loved them. It meant I could sit in the back of the church and draw comics with my friends, and this year, I was ready. I had been writing a comic all year, about an anthropomorphic cyborg potato that controlled fire, had like mechanical Phoenix and could absorb powers from other anthropomorphic potatoes, just like Megaman! Gosh, I miss being at an age where creativity just happened, even if it was awful, it just happened. Anyway, so I'm getting ready to continue this 100-page monstrosity when my dad tells me the news. I can't draw during revival. I'm too old for that. This devastated me, I had been looking forward to this for an entire month now.

But, Dad did tell me something else. Clift West was the guest speaker. Now before this, I had heard Clift, but I didn't remember much about him. It had been awhile before he last spoke at our church. I didn't enjoy the other speakers much, but everyone seemed to enjoy Clift. Dad told me to really listen to his sermons, to really take it in. I remember dad saying something about how Clift was a good storyteller, but nothing prepared me for that moment.

Now, before I start, I need you to understand something. If during this, I sound cynical, like I'm making fun of or if I hate church or religion. Know that I don't, I love my religion, I love my home church and even the denomination I'm a part of. (If I didn't, I'd go find another.) I have my problems with all of these, but if you know me, or spend more than 2 minutes on this website, you know I have problems with everything and I sometimes can be a little vocal about them, to the point it sounds like I hate everything, but I don't. I'm just a little passionate about things, and I know everyone can be better, they just need to be reminded of that fact as well, but if I sound like I'm attacking anything. Know this is exactly what 11-year-old Josh thought.

Church happened like normal, nothing fancy. My papa (the pastor our church) opened up the service with a greeting or maybe Nana did. I think my dad (Children’s pastor) read a verse from the bible before the offering. I'm sure someone I'm related to sang a special. The praise team (My uncles/aunts/and cousins) played four of the twenty-some songs they always did. Plus, the added ones that we saved just for revival, honestly those were my favorite. (Have I talked about just how tightknit my family/neighborhood/church/ friends/home-life is? Cause its all the same people.) Church started just like normal, but everything changes shortly after.

Now, this isn't my first rodeo, I've been going to church for almost 11 years now, and I missed very few days. (I was born on a Sunday afternoon because I couldn't disrupt morning service) So I knew the speaker would walk up, give us a quick line that sums up his entire lesson, read a verse then go into his points, hit four or five, then give an altar call so we can go home. Well, things start a little different, after the normal talk about being back after so long, Clift starts with a story. Not a bible story, a real story, nothing from 100 or 1,000 years ago, but something that happened in his lifetime, and this wasn't some short quick little joke. Sure it was funny, but ultimately it had a lesson at the end of it. And it tied right into this message.

I will always remember this moment, not as a come to Jesus moment or a 'life-altering experience' but a moment of self-discovery. See, before this, I loved movies, books, TV shows, videogames, comics, graphic novels but I never understood what my passion was; Storytelling.