How I came to know Jesus

A Childhood Between Two Religions

I was born and raised in Benin, in a family where my mother was Christian and my father was Muslim. In our family, when parents belonged to different religions, the father's religion was expected to take precedence, and everyone was expected to follow it. Yet, we attended neither church nor mosque.

As far back as I can remember, I asked myself questions such as: Who created us? Why are we on earth? What is the meaning of our existence? But the answers I received were not enough for me. I was told that God had created us, but I wanted to go beyond that answer and find out who this God was.

The Desire to Wear a Cross

From a very young age, I wanted to be a Christian. When I was about six years old, I wanted to wear a cross with Jesus crucified on it. I no longer remember exactly what sparked that desire. Perhaps it was because I saw people wearing them at school. What I do remember, however, is how much I wanted one.

One day, a small cross with Jesus crucified on it came into my hands. I was happy to have it, but there was one little problem: it had no chain. With the limited resources of a six-year-old, I took a piece of plastic string from a floor mat and made something like a cord. That way, I was able to attach the cross and wear it around my neck.

I wanted to wear it to school, so I put a sweater over my uniform to hide it. But my mother noticed it and told me that if I wanted a cross, she could buy me one. Those words stayed with me. However, since my father's religion was expected to take precedence in our family, my mother would have had to discuss it with him and obtain his permission before buying me a cross. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to do so, as she passed away a few months later, when I was seven years old.

I knew I could not ask her for the cross because it did not align with her religion. I could not buy one for myself either, because we were not free to purchase our own belongings. So, the cross I wanted so badly remained out of reach at that time.

But the desire itself never went away.

After my mother's passing, we began attending church on Saturdays. For the little girl I was, it felt as though my dream was finally beginning to come true: I could go to church, just as I had always wanted.

However, the services were conducted in Fon, a language I did not understand at the time because I spoke only French. So I was there, but I did not really understand what was being said; sometimes, I felt as though I was simply showing up. Despite that, I was happy to go, and I thought my desire to become a Christian was finally beginning to take shape.

But after a few months, we stopped going. I remember asking why we no longer attended. My father explained that, as Muslims, we were not supposed to go to church. All I knew was that the opportunity that had made me feel closer to what I had longed for since childhood had not lasted.

A Discovery That Left a Lasting Impression on Me

After my mother’s passing, I had to learn to grow up without her. As the eldest, I also had to learn to take care of my sisters, even though I was still a child myself. My father, for his part, had to take on the responsibility of raising three girls on his own, while carrying his own grief. Even though we were not always particularly close, and even though some periods were difficult to live through, I recognize the value of the education he gave us, especially the principles, discipline, and sense of responsibility he passed on to us.

Despite this, I sometimes felt alone. My two sisters, who shared common interests, were closer to each other, and I did not always feel like I belonged. It was during this period of loneliness that I turned more and more to something I had always loved: reading. That is how I discovered an old Bible that had belonged to my mother. It was damaged and incomplete, but it contained passages from Genesis, Exodus, Psalms, the Gospels, and the Acts of the Apostles, among other books.

I began reading whatever was available. I discovered the story of creation, then the Gospels, and learned who Jesus was, how He had lived, and how He had died so that we could be saved. I read the passages I had access to and often returned to the same ones. What fascinated me was being able to read them again and discover things I had not noticed before. I did not yet know how to explain what I was experiencing, but I enjoyed reading and trying to understand.

Nevertheless, I could not read it freely. At home, we were expected to practise Islam, including performing salaat, the five daily prayers, and reading the Quran. My father did not want to hear us talk about the Bible. So sometimes, I had to hide to read it because I knew there would be consequences if I did otherwise.

At times, I felt caught between two realities: what was expected of us religiously and what I was beginning to discover for myself in the Scriptures. I did not yet know how to reconcile these two realities, but I knew I wanted to keep reading and understanding.

In fact, that old Bible was not my first encounter with the Scriptures. Before discovering it, there had been a small New Testament at home. I believe it had been distributed by The Gideons International. I particularly remember a section about “help in times of need,” which referred readers to Bible passages based on the situations they were facing.

It was through those references that I began reading certain Psalms. I particularly remember Psalm 41, which I associated with relief in times of suffering. I would read it when my mother was ill, hoping that God would heal her. I did not understand everything I read, and I did not have the biblical knowledge I have today, but I had faith in my own childlike way. I simply wanted my mother to get better.

I Found a Friend in Jesus

Through these readings, I was discovering the One represented on the little cross I had wanted so badly to wear. If someone asked me today which Bible passage made me decide to follow Jesus, I would not be able to point to a single verse. I would rather say that everything I discovered in the Scriptures nurtured my desire to know Him.

As I continued reading, Jesus became my friend. He became the One I could turn to at any time, whatever the circumstances. I could talk to Him about what I was going through, even when I did not have the words to explain how I felt. I could share my sorrows, thoughts, and questions with Him.

During that period when I often felt alone, this relationship became an important part of my life. Psalms 23 and 91, in particular, reminded me that I did not have to go through the darkest moments of my life as though I were alone.

I cannot say that I already understood everything involved in following Jesus, but I knew I wanted to know Him and continue following Him. I also read every document I could find that was related to God and spirituality because I wanted to understand more. I did not always know how to distinguish what was true from what was not, or how to interpret everything I discovered. So I wanted God to guide me through it all, and I especially read Psalm 32:8: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My eye.”

Discovering My Name in the Bible

Among the aspects of my story that took on a deeper meaning later was my name.

When I was about nine years old, my father wanted to give our names a more Muslim sound. This was achieved for my two sisters, but not for me. He had considered replacing my name with Houldayath, but eventually abandoned the idea, partly because I had already taken school exams under the name Houlda. So my name remained Houlda. At the time, I could not yet understand the significance this event would later have in my story.

In 2015, one of my classmates told me that my name appeared in the Bible, in the Book of Kings. Her remark left a lasting impression on me. I wondered how that was possible, given that my father was Muslim. At that point, I did not know the origin of my name or who had given it to me. So I looked up the reference and discovered that Huldah was a prophetess whose story is told in 2 Kings 22 and 2 Chronicles 34.

I did not yet know all the details of her story. I had simply discovered that my name was also the name of a woman mentioned in the Scriptures.

Later, I learned that my godfather had apparently given me my name and that I had been baptized in a Protestant church as a child. However, I do not know the reasons behind that baptism. Looking back, I cannot help but see this discovery as part of the path God was preparing for me. I do not claim to know all His purposes, but this story makes me reflect on how He can give particular meaning to certain aspects of our lives long before we understand their significance. All of this leads me to reflect on my identity and how God sees me: I am who God says I am.

I Wanted to Be a Christian, but I Had to Wait

At home, we were expected to follow our father's religion. When I told him about my desire to become a Christian, he replied that I would only be allowed to go to church once I was an adult.

So I waited. I continued reading, searching, and asking questions. I simply had to wait until I could attend church as I wished.

When I turned eighteen, I thought I would finally be able to go to church, just as he had told me. But in reality, things did not turn out to be that simple. His decision had changed: as long as I lived under his roof, I could not go.

A year earlier, we had begun to be required to attend the mosque, especially during Ramadan and Tabaski celebrations.

I began to wonder whether, after all, what mattered most was believing in God in one's heart, even if I could not go to church. So I continued to wait, nurturing my relationship with Jesus mainly through prayer, without yet being able to live out my faith in the way I wanted.

I did not know how long this situation would last, but I wanted to believe that, at the right time, God would allow me to live out my faith openly and attend church.

January 2023: A New Chapter in Canada

In January 2023, I arrived in Canada.

This move marked a new chapter in my life. Away from the family environment in which I had grown up, I could finally consider fulfilling the desire I had carried since childhood: going to church.

I began looking for churches in the small town where I was living. There were not many, but I still tried attending a Catholic church. Then, in February 2023, I visited a Pentecostal church that one of my classmates attended.

That first visit marked a turning point in the way I viewed attending church.

Of course, faith is not limited to attending a place of worship. We can pray, read the Bible, and seek to know God in our personal time with Him, even without being part of a church. But I also came to understand that there is a difference between being unable to attend church and having the opportunity to do so.

For me, going to church is not simply about being in a place of worship. It is about listening to the Word of God, learning alongside other Christians, sharing moments of prayer and worship, asking questions, and growing within a community that is also walking with God.

During this period, I began to learn more about the Holy Spirit.

Through my Bible reading, I had learned about God and Jesus, but I did not yet truly know the Holy Spirit. I knew He was part of the phrase “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” but I did not yet understand who He was or what role He played in my relationship with God.

As I continued on my journey, I began to understand His work in my life more clearly. In particular, I became aware of how He was working within me and helping me deal with feelings such as resentment, anger, and bitterness.

I do not mean that everything disappeared overnight. I am not perfect; only Jesus is. I gradually came to understand that faith was not just about believing in Jesus or knowing the Scriptures, but also about allowing Him to transform the way I think, respond, and treat others.

Even today, I ask the Holy Spirit to continue His work in me so that I may increasingly reflect the character of Jesus.

My Baptism: A Personal Commitment

In November 2023, I was baptized.

This moment marked an important milestone in my Christian journey. The childhood baptism I had learned about was part of my story. But this time, I personally made the decision to be baptized and publicly declare my commitment to Jesus.

It was the choice of someone who, since childhood, had longed to know God and had continued seeking Jesus over the years.

My baptism did not mark the end of my journey, but rather a new step in a relationship I wanted to continue deepening.

A few months later, I also experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit, which marked another step in my discovery of the Christian faith.

Finding the Courage to Live Out My Faith Openly

Even after my baptism, I was still afraid to tell my father that I was following Jesus.

I knew his temperament and feared how he might react. For months, I prayed about it without finding the courage to speak to him. Eventually, in November 2025, nearly three years after my first visit to church, I decided to tell him that I was following Jesus.

After thinking about it for so long, I asked myself: What was the worst that could happen if I told him? Since arriving in Canada, my circumstances had changed. I could provide for myself, and my faith had become an important part of my life. I no longer wanted to keep it to myself out of fear of his reaction. I also drew courage from the Word of God, which reminded me that God was for me. I did not know how my father would react, but I learned to put my trust in God rather than live in fear.

When I told him the news, his response was simply, “OK.” Given what I had imagined, that initial reaction came as a relief.

However, afterward, he brought up my decision several times. He believed I had disobeyed him by choosing to follow Jesus and regularly criticized my faith. Little by little, I began to dread his calls and messages because I knew my faith might once again become a subject of criticism.

This experience taught me that following Jesus does not necessarily mean being understood or accepted by everyone, even by members of our own family.

Living out our faith openly can require courage and confront us with difficulties we never expected.

I do not know how our relationship will evolve. I cannot control his reactions or force him to understand my choices. But in the midst of it all, I hold on to these words that remind me that