The Courage to Become | Crystal Ngumezi
The Courage to Become Set Apart
I had the courage to become set apart back in 2014, but allow me the opportunity to share with you how I got there:
I’m a Texas native with a Nigerian background. You don’t hear that often, now do you? I was born and raised in Houston, TX with a Nigerian upbringing; both my parents are from the country of Nigeria in West Africa, making me a product of immigrants. Growing up in Texas with Nigerian roots made for a very interesting childhood experience, one that I feel shaped me into the woman I am today. I learned that being different was okay, and that being different made me stronger and more qualified for the life that God had set up for me. My parents taught me that discipline and hard work would serve me well in the future, and as a young business-minded individual today, I can honestly say that it has.
Growing up, I always had a knack for mathematics and creativity, so when I was about 17 years old, I made the decision to pursue Mechanical Engineering as an undergraduate degree. In 2013, I received my B.S. in Mechanical Engineering from the University of Texas at San Antonio. During my undergraduate experience at UTSA, I was able to travel the country and intern for various companies during my summer breaks. After graduation, I received the opportunity to work for a notable fortune 500 company in Fort Worth, TX, as a manager in training, where I later became a full-time technical manager. In my young career, I’ve had the privilege of serving in 2 different managerial positions for 2 different companies. However, I can’t attribute my professional success to my own deeds. It has truly been the work of God moving in my life that provided me with these various opportunities to build my professional portfolio at such a young age.
With all of this being said, back to 2014, where my real story began:
In 2014, I made the radical decision to quit my day job and move back home to Houston, TX. I made this decision in order to pursue my purpose and to follow Christ. Sounds pretty crazy huh? Not quite.
At the time, I was doing pretty well for myself in my career. The money I earned was great, the benefits were awesome, and I was well taken care of as a younger employee.
So you might be left asking, “Why did you quit then?” Well, I’m happy you asked. The problem was that while working in my career, I experienced many internal struggles.
It was like I was at war with myself. I knew that God had a great calling on my life, but I didn’t know how my job and career at the time lined up with that calling. This internal war I experienced on the inside, along with many other battles I was facing simultaneously, led me into a state of mental depression. I literally became sick as a direct result of not following my purpose. I thought I would have been able to cope with this mental illness, but as I continued my work in that field, my depression became worse, and my desire to leave became stronger. When my depression started to affect my work, I knew I had a very important decision to make.
I knew the cause of my illness, and I knew it was severe. What I didn’t know was how I was going to make the critical decision to quit my job, and ultimately to leave my career. What made this decision even harder for me was that due to my success as a training manager, my job offered me a high raise and promotion. Talk about a test! Despite this tantalizing offer, I made the ultimate decision to decline and resign as a manager at that company. I chose to follow God’s will for my life and walk away from my career.
This was not an easy decision to make.
Moving back home was not in my plans - but it was in God’s plans. My friends and family were all in awe of my decision, but I knew that God was leading me. Despite the opposition I faced as a direct result of this decision, I had the courage to become Set Apart.
In The Bible, the term “set apart” means to be separated from what is common and deemed normal - to be chosen. The decision I made to leave what was familiar to me demanded my total surrender to what God had planned for me. I didn’t understand what I was walking into back then, but I knew that my life was radically about to be changed forever.
Now I know that for some of you reading this story, you may find the decision I made to quit my job quite questionable. It was a drastic move, but as a believer, I can truly attest to the fact that the decision I made back in 2014 saved my life.
Jesus saved my life, and he healed me from my mental depression.
Back in 2014, I made the decision to no longer live for myself, but instead to live for God and his purposes for my life. Through my radical obedience to God’s will, I found my true identity in Christ, and I experienced supernatural healing on multiple levels.
One of those levels being my mental health. The healing process I experienced as a direct result of following God’s will was not an overnight thing; God led me out of a state of depression and fear, and into a state of peace and serenity, through months of restoration. Because of my depression, I had forgotten what it was like to live free and victorious. The one thing I had put all of my trust and energy into - my mind, my smarts, and my intelligence - had ultimately failed me. I didn’t see a doctor, and I wasn’t prescribed any medication - God healed me. After God healed my mind, he began to heal my spirit, and ultimately the rest of my body.
In 2015, I began my spiritual walk with the Lord, and encountered various tests and trials along the way. I had my experience of dead ends, faulty relationships, and disappointments, all in an effort to show and to teach me how to follow Jesus the correct way. I’ve had my fair share of bumps and bruises along this journey, but God has always been in my corner cheering me on. He never gave up on me and he always encourages me to keep on fighting. When I would experience situations targeting my fleeting depression in the past, he would come through for me in ways I can’t even tell you. I am now learning how to trust and depend on God in every way. Due to the tests and trials I have experienced, I can honestly say that I have become a stronger woman and an ambassador of Faith.
And today I am joyful and blessed to be here. I can truly attest to the fact that God is faithful, and that He rewards those who diligently seek him. I’m still young and in my prime, but I can truly say that God has begun a good work in me. I can see the fruits of his work. He uses me to mentor young women, and to minister to people I would have never met otherwise. I’m now mentally, spiritually, and physically healthy, and I have peace in my life - not a worldly peace - but the peace that surpasses all understanding.
Whatever you are going through and whatever season you are in, know that God has a plan for you. He had a plan for me, and I would have never found it had I not sought his will. Don’t let fear rob you of experiencing and enjoying a great, purpose-filled life. It’s never too late to make the decision to follow Christ.
My hope in sharing my story with you is that you will take what I have experienced, and use it as fuel to activate your own personal desires to live in the life that God has called you to. I pursued purpose and it changed my life.
Thanks for reading, and God bless you.
Essay by: Crystal Ngumezi
From Crystal:
I have a blog on my online website, crystalngumezi.com, that I use to encourage people to live healthy lives, offering healthy recipes and ways to easily prepare them, along with posts encouraging women to live in the fullness of the Proverbs 31 woman, and informative tips for people pursuing purpose.
I also publish weekly devotionals on my other website, lifeloveandinspirationblog.com, where I teach Christians about Jesus, spreading The Gospel.
Apart from my personal websites, I’m a freelance writer on MyTrendingStories.com, where I write articles relating to business, news and technology. I’m also working on a non-profit organization for young women, which will provide them with professional mentorship and professional development training, scheduled to launch next year.
You can follow me on all social media platforms @crystalngumezi, and follow and like my Facebook page @CrystalNgumeziBlog.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
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The Como Mamas
Originally published on 10-23-13
Sometime in mid-March, I was working at ACL and SXSW acts were rolling through the venue. The ticket for this particular night read, Soul Review. I thought, “Cool. I like soul music.” And I had a glimmer of hope that Justin Timberlake would swing by.
At 8pm when the house lights went down the venue only had about 100 people in it. It was a meager start to the night as the venue fits about 2700 music lovers. As I surveyed the crowd I thought, “Maybe Prince is playing down the street or something.”
I scanned the acts on the ticket and since I hadn’t heard of any of them, I didn’t pay much attention. As ACL spans four floors I spent a lot of my time running around chatting and checking with staff on each floor. As I was running around my boss, Tom asked “Have you been inside the venue yet? You’re going to love the act on stage.” As soon as I found a good breaking point I made my way inside the venue and was immediately blown away.
The room was dark and cold and filled with the unforgettable voices of The Como Mamas. As I surveyed the stage I thought, “Only three ladies, no instruments?” I had heard similar sounds from movie soundtracks before, but never in person. The group is made up of three lifelong Gospel singers from the small town of Como, Mississippi, and they were magnificent. Their voices cut straight through the fluff and went directly to my bones. Their voices were gripping. I was mesmerized. I inched my way toward the front of the stage and got lost in their voices. I took photos and videos but nothing compared to the real thing.
When their set was over and the crowd of what was now 200 people had finished applauding, I decided to make good use of my all access pass and go backstage to tell them how awesome they were.
I walked straight up to my favorite of the three singers, Ms. Ester Mae, and I introduced myself. “Hello, my name is Catia and I work here. I just wanted to tell you how powerful and impactful your performance was. Listening to your voices is very moving. Good luck with…” I thought it was be a quick congratulations and I’d be on my way. But before I turned away she grabbed my hands in hers.
We were outside her dressing room and folks were hurriedly working getting ready for the next band, but somehow all that faded away and I felt connected. I didn’t yet know what she was going to say, but I knew that I was going to pay attention.
My small soft hands sat in her encompassing rough hands. Her hands felt like they had been productive for decades. She was tall and was of bigger build and dressed in her Sunday best. Her long corn rows were pulled back in a ponytail and she was smiling so big I could see her gold capped teeth. No one would have questioned her being backstage but she was wearing her artist badge proudly.
Once my hands were in hers and our eyes locked she said, “Thank you so much for that. You know, I’m 62. They came into my church and discovered me 4 years ago. All my life I’ve been singing in the church, for the church and just now, my dreams are coming true. Tomorrow, they are taking me on a plane to New Orleans!” She was beaming. Ms. Ester continued, “I’ve been praying my whole life to God. You just keep working hard for what you want. Don’t lose faith in yourself or in God. When you’re ready, your dreams will find their way to you. Don’t be afraid of hard work.”
I was blown away by her words of wisdom. I knew that this was not an ordinary occurrence.
Ms. Ester definitely looked like she could cook a southern meal and give a great hug. And since we weren’t near a kitchen, I asked if I could give her a hug and she agreed. It was such a mama bear hug. I could feel her love even though she didn’t know me from Adam.
Did she know Guapo and I were about to hit a rocky patch? Did she know I was going to jump into writing full time? Did she know that I was training for a marathon? Did she know I was working two jobs and was really tired? There were so many balls in the air; I had no clue how life was going to be come May. How did she know I would need to hear her words? She didn’t, but God did.
God sent her to me to say, “Keep your head down, work hard and don’t lose faith.” The words, “I’m 62 and I’m just walking into my dream,” pop into my thoughts when I get impatient.
There are signs all around and they come to us in different packages. The universe is constantly talking to us, guiding us along. However, the signs from the universe won’t always be obvious, most times, they’ll be subtle. We have to be open and aware enough to receive them. We have to have open hearts, open minds and be quiet enough within ourselves to notice the messages.
If we are constantly numbing ourselves out with food, alcohol or even activity we will have a hard time reading the signs along the way, if we see them at all. James Earl Jones is not going to show up at our doors telling us what our next move should be, neither is the Wizard of Oz.
Some days a door will open and a door will close and that’s as much change that will happen. Some days there may be a road block along the way redirecting us, and some days the universe may send us Ms. Ester. Most times the signs are so small that we may not even give them any significance, but they are there. Pay attention.
Justin Timberlake was a no show that night, but I got something much better, a hug from Ms. Ester and a message from God.
Ms. Ester, may you continue to touch people’s souls the way you touched mine.
What it Feels like to Worship
Originally published on 9-15-13
Sunday Morning
It’s 9:58 AM and I’m just getting to church for the 10am service. I’m dressed in a pink tweed dress and some nude patent leather heels. I was too lazy to blow dry my hair, so it’s up in pony tail. I reason with myself that God’s just glad I’m here.
I park in the middle school parking lot across from the low income housing units and walk swiftly up the cracked side walk. As I pass fellow 10 a.m. church goers. I think, “Hello, I hope you’re as excited as I am.” But instead of speaking, I just smile. I have my big brown vegan approved tote in hand, and since I have been coming to Greater Mt. Zion a year and half I know what to pack. Every Sunday I bring a pen, notebook paper, a check book and lots of tissue. Once in a while I bring in my phone so that I can record snippets of the choir, so I can listen to them at my leisure. As I get closer to the building I hear the welcome music coming through the outdoor speakers, which I quite enjoy. It’s like the amuse-bouche, compliments of the chef.
I am politely greeted by a woman in her mid-40s, “Hello and welcome to Greater Mt. Zion. Enjoy the service.” I think, “You bet I will!” I am handed a one page weekly bulletin and my eyes scan it. My heart says, “You need to be more involved.” My mind says, “You travel too much.” I convince myself that my level of involvement is enough and I am ushered in the sanctuary.
I take my seat, tuck my over-sized tote under the pew and before I can even look around to analyze the new outfits in the room, I am engulfed in voices, a buzzing of love. I sit in the first few rows and so I am not farther than 10 feet from a full experience. The 20 person choir is singing their first song. Before I can catch their melody, I can feel that each of their hearts is wide open and full to the brim of praise and thanks. Their cup runneth over so does mine.
The spirit of the Lord is here
The spirit of the Lord is here
I feel it in the atmosphere
The spirit of the Lord is here, oh
The spirit of the Lord is here, oh
The power of the Lord is here
The power of the Lord is here
I feel it in the atmosphere,
The power of the Lord is here, oh
The power of the Lord is here, oh
Everybody blow the trumpet
And sound the alarm
because the Lord is in the temple
Let everybody bow
Let all the people praise Him now
The Lord is here
I close my eyes and the joyous voices raise me into a cloud of what can only be described as love. I think, “This must be what heaven feels like.” Their ability to praise Jesus with such pride and fervor seeps into me and soon my heart is open and full. So full in fact that now it has to find a release. Finally, my eyes well up and steady streams of tears start to roll down my eyes. Any negative feeling that was floating around in me is shoved out by love and gratitude. I can only reason that this strategy will work in everyday life. The more I praise and give thanks, the less space there is for anger, jealousy or even self-pity.
The voices of that fill the old Baptist church are untrained and yet, they sound spectacular. The parishioners’ voices are loud and there is palpable electricity in the room. If a bystander walked by the church and saw it elevating, I wouldn’t be surprised. The 27 year old male soloist convincingly sings, “We’re going higher…higher! The presence of the Lord is here, the presence of the Lord is here, I feel him in the atmosphere, the presence of the lord….IS HERE,” and everyone is so jazzed and my hands are red and stinging from clapping with so much excitement. The color coordinated choir is swaying from side to side and movin’ and groovin’. They look sharp! “I really want to be part of the choir, singing is not my strong point, but maybe I’ll try one day.”
As we near the end of the song the instruments drop off into the background, as to let the believer’s voices be heard more clearly. I feel so much emotion that the lump in my throat is growing with every note. Now we’ve been praising and dancing for 6 minutes and Greater Mt. Zion is filled wall to wall and floor to ceiling with powerful souls who are praising God. It is magical! I am so overwhelmed that I cover my face and cry into my hands. I think, “I am lucky to have found this church home. I am so lucky to have found God.” God is here, I know. I know for sure, God is here.
The church pews and extra patio chairs and balconies are filled with parishioners of all ages. The 200 person congregation is filled with followers who have more than me, less than me, who are different than me and the same as me saying, “Thank you, Jesus. I praise you. Thank you.” We are all just proud and grateful to participate.
The first song is now over.
An hour and a half later, church wraps and I walk out feeling energized and rejuvenated. I feel loved and I know I have contributed to my foundation. I know that the last hour and half was spent not in prayer for things to come, but in prayer of gratitude. On Sundays, I don’t ask God for anything, I just give thanks for all he’s already done. After Sunday service, I know I am a better advocate for humanity. I feel whole.
Heaven must feel like this, I know. I know, Heaven must feel like this.
I wish so much to put each of you in my pocket and bring you with me to church. I think you would love it! I wish I could give you the gift of God’s love and peace, but I know better, only you can do that for yourselves. I love loud joyous celebrations, so Greater Mt. Zion works for me. I encourage you to find what works for you.
Greater Mt. Zion
Originally published 7-15-12
So here’s the thing, I’ve never been a church going person, but have always been a praying person.
I’ve always hesitated to use God in everyday language in public but never hesitated to talk about God privately.
I don’t have an all-encompassing belief system, even though I was raised Catholic and can wear a rosary like nobody’s business, I won’t declare to you that I am a certain religion and embarrassingly I recently learned the difference between the old and the new testament, but I will declare that I believe in a higher power that both love and guides deliberately.
It has taken me 29 years to really seek out a church and faithful community, a community that I can lean on from each Sunday afternoon to the next.
A few months ago, as I was contemplating my love life – the only issue I allow to keep nagging at me, the other day I bought cocktail napkins that say, “My life is perfect I’m looking for a problem to drink about.” - I just felt like I didn’t have any more answers. There were no more people I could ask for advice; I had become a frequent flyer in the self-help section of Barnes and Noble and Oprah was just not coming through like she used to. I had exhausted my life lines. Then life surprised me as it does from time to time and my girlfriend casually mentioned she had found this great Baptist church on the East side of Austin and she described it as different and exhilarating and chock full of good music. I agreed to go more as a cultural experience or Sunday activity; little did I know how much of an impact it would have on me.
The next Sunday, I woke up and put on my Sunday best, a dress my mother and grandmothers would approve of, and I headed to church.
As I walked into the Greater Mt. Zion Baptist Church in East Austin, I looked around and realized, there were no: crosses, no altar, no place to kneel, no hymnals in the pews, no white people. Huh? No white people? Correct. It’s a Baptist church in east Austin and it’s glorious. Ladies wore adorned hats, there was choir that was joyful, there were dance performances, there was a band, a preacher, and more hugs than anyone could ever need.
The service was uplifting and energizing. We sang, clapped, danced and hallelujah-ed our way through a two hour service. (All this was foreign to me as Catholic’s rock it out in 45 or less and the most movement during mass is when you turn to your neighbors to shake their hands and wish them peace.) It was lovely and fun and beyond fulfilling. I cried and laughed and held hands with strangers. At times during the service I marveled in the universe’s timing. I knew I was thirsty for something more, but I didn’t know just how thirsty and I certainly didn’t know for what. When I walked out of church I felt like I had been showered in “feel good.” I felt like my life’s direction was a little clearer.
I realize this introduction to religion seems fine and dandy and I don’t know if I’ll ever be religious per se, but I think if people can gather to pray for a better world and better lives and they can lift each other up in the process, then that’s a beautiful thing.
I’ve attended regularly in the past few months and I’ve realized I was hurting and that I’ve slowly been healing. My church is a hospital for hurting people.
I hope in whatever church or group you’re a part of that you both give and receive empathy, hope and love and purpose.