I remember the first time I said, “Oh, my God.”
It was the spring of seventh grade. My friend, Jessica Mensah
had reached her breaking point with the torturous junior high boys on our school
bus and shouted, “Oh, my God!”
She immediately gasped, covering her mouth. She fell to her
knees, praying for forgiveness, praying for the Lord to have mercy on her soul.
I thought about those three letters for days. I couldn’t get
them off my mind. G-O-D. Not Go-SH, Go-D. I kept wondering what these letters
would sound like coming from my own lips. After weeks of tempting opportunities, I decided to find out. This was the time.
My parents were out back on the patio, so the coast was
clear. I went into my room and shut the door. For extra security, I shut my
blinds. (As if that would help keep the thunderous sound of my whispers from
escaping.)
I whispered slowly and carefully, ”Oh… my… God….”
D-D-D-D-D.
That “D” echoed from the vaulted ceiling in my purple room
and pierced me right through the heart. I felt my body sinking straight to the
depths of hell. I begged and pleaded for Jesus to spare my wicked, sinful soul.
Did I really deserve the fiery pits of eternal damnation for uttering three
simple letters??
After all, I was only saying “dog” backwards…
