God Has A Plan For Me
‘For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth
endureth to all generations’. So says the psalmist (Ps 100:5).
Indeed because of His mercies we are not consumed. I was not
consumed in the days of my ignorance but He had mercy and drew me to
Himself. This is a rather short testimony of how the Lord found me.
Read on…
My name is Lawrence Kojo Tsimese. I was named directly after my
father’ so most of my schooling days I had signed junior as part of
my name. I had a rough transition from childhood into adolescent
life. My late parents were all Roman Catholics so from childhood I
was brought up as a catholic. I had a strong desire to know more of
my religion so I took all my catechism classes very seriously at
both levels of first communion and confirmation sacraments.
Everybody close to me thought I would one day become a catholic
priest because of my dedication to the teachings of the church.
Nevertheless there was a vacuum in me that wasn’t filled and made me
feel very empty. I thought the answer was to become much more deeply
involved in the doctrines and teachings of the church in order to
gain more understanding in spirituality.
Therefore, when I left home to an all boys catholic secondary
school, I enrolled in various church groups on campus just to find
answers to the growing emptiness I felt within. I was with groups
like the ‘Legion of Mary’, ‘Sacred Heart of Jesus’ and the ‘Altar
Boys’. I was excited, I knew that I was going to have a greater
understanding of spirituality and have greater power. But all the
prayer rituals and proclamations did not help. I was like any
ordinary person on campus. I participated in most of the ‘sins’ on
campus.
I began to question my faith when during my third year in secondary
school my mother became ill and died. The nature of her sickness
defied all known medical treatments. We knew there was something
spiritual about it because someone had cast a spell of sickness on
her and had even openly boasted about it. If only I knew what I know
today it would have been a different story. All that the catholic
Reverend father could do for her was to give her holy water to
sprinkle in her bedroom and recite the full rosary (all 15
mysteries). She did all these faithfully because she wanted to be
well to take care of her children who were still young. I was the
eldest of her 5 children (my father had other five children) and was
only 15 years old. The church that I leaned onto could not fight a
small witch’s spell and my dear mother died just like that.
Four years after the death of my mum, I suffered yet another major
disaster in my life during my second year in agricultural college
when my father also joined his ancestors. He was diagnosed with
esophagus cancer (the cancerous growth was deep down his throat) and
there was little the doctors could do for him. I was now an orphan.
My paternal family was not sympathetic towards my siblings and me.
They were much more interested in his property than in our
wellbeing. Something had to happen otherwise I was going to lose
faith in God. I felt disappointed in life.
One Sunday morning, whilst still in college, I prayed to God in my
own words and asked him to be my helper and guide for the future. I
had no one to look up to whilst my brothers and sisters were looking
up to me.
