The greatly anticipated day came—my first class. It was at 10 a.m. in the chapel, and I didn’t know how many students I would have until I walked in the door. My stomach was in knots as I made my way across campus, greeting people I passed and praying the entire way. “I really don’t know how to lead a choir, God, let alone be in charge of anything. I am depending on You to get me through this.” The idea of a group looking to me as their leader was daunting.
Coming through the door, I found a handful of students who had arrived early. Someone stopped me and we chatted for a moment, enough time for others to filter in and take their seats. I checked my watch—it was time to begin. When I turned around and took my place at the front of the room, a group of about a hundred students smiled at me. I breathed another prayer. “God, if ever I’ve needed You, it’s right now!”
I took a deep breath and stood straight. Mom wasn’t there in person but she was definitely there in spirit. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to choir. First, I’m going to ask you to arrange yourselves in sections—sopranos on the right with the tenors in the middle and altos on the left.”
After the commotion of everyone finding their places, the room got quiet. I introduced myself and opened my heart to the choir. I spent the entire practice teaching the parts, section by section, without sheet music, emulating the woman I had admired my entire life.
After we went through it a final time, I asked them to take their seats and then I tentatively walked across the stage, aware that everyone was watching me. Sitting on the bench, I paused . . . then my fingers touched the keys. With my eyes closed, I softly played “Amazing Grace” from the deepest part of my heart. As the notes reverberated, reaching the choir members, the atmosphere changed. A holy hush came over the students and I knew they were sensing my heart going up to God. When I opened my eyes, I saw several of them lift their hands and as I continued to play and began to sing, soon they were all joining in. I leaned closer to the mic in front of the piano . . .
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
With voices soaring in beautiful harmony, my choir sang with such a force that it took my breath away.
That afternoon as I walked back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but remember a few months earlier when my mom had said, “Chrissy, I think now is the right time for you to join the choir.” and my quick response—“Really, Mom?” To think that unbeknownst to me, God was preparing me for this day, one of the most special days of my life.
It didn’t take long for me to start feeling more comfortable in the classroom and less self-conscious around other staff members. A whole new world of friends opened up to me as others on staff embraced me, despite the fact that I was the youngest teacher there. It had been quite a while since I had laughed so hard. They accepted me at face value, and the closeness that I developed with this group of friends was a real gift to me.
Many times they’d arrive at my apartment after the day’s classes were over, knock on the door, and someone would say, “Let’s go, Chrissy! Are you coming with us?”
“Just a second. I have to finish getting ready.”
“Don’t dress up. We’re all super hungry. Come on!”
I experienced such freedom to be open and honest, with no need to hide anything from the people I was with. Is this what normal actually feels like? I began to have an inkling of who I truly was and what my purpose was. I realized I didn’t need to be anyone else but Chrissy; I was chosen by God, even with all of my imperfections and my failures.
I was so busy with everything at school that I didn’t spend much time thinking about Jaye. When he did come to mind, I avoided going down my former trail of obsessive thoughts. Instead, I continued to be hopeful that during this time when we were apart, God was somehow working in Jaye’s life too.
There were many days when I would linger after the all-campus chapel service, alone in a corner of the auditorium, and pour out my heart in prayer. “God, I’ve given You my life, and now I need You to do something really special for me and my daughter. I want my little girl to have a daddy who really loves You and wants to live a righteous life before You. Most of all, I want Your plan because it’s proved to be best.”
Because the Bible college was only three and a half hours from New York, I would come home on the weekends when I could, especially so my parents could be with Susie. Sometimes I would leave her with them for an extended time, and during a couple of those visits, when I was back at Zion, Jaye came to see Susie.
It was incredible how God was teaching me that other than being chosen by Him, nothing else mattered. As much as I wanted things to work out for Jaye and Susie and me to be a family, I knew if Jaye didn’t change, I wasn’t going with him. I had changed, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than God’s best; I was not going to compromise and jeopardize Susie’s and my future. For the first time since I was thirteen years old, being chosen by a man was no longer an issue for me. All that mattered was that God had chosen me. I was getting stronger every day, resisting the pressure to believe the lies that had ruled my life and had always left me in turmoil, a pressure I had put on myself for seven years.
Susie and I were enjoying a relaxing but exciting Christmas break with my parents—it was so different from our first Christmas together when she and I were at Lorna’s, with me trying to be as happy as possible. This time, there was so much activity at home and at church and I was loving every minute of it.
One evening after church, a staff member came up to me and said, “Your dad would like to see you in his office.”
When I walked in, I was surprised to see my dad, my mom, and Al there.
“Please sit down,” my dad said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I looked at the three of them as I sat on the couch next to Mom. I couldn’t tell from anyone’s expression what this meeting was about.
“Chris,” Dad said as he leaned back in his chair, his brows knit with concern, “lately I’ve wondered what’s been going on with Jaye because he hasn’t been calling to arrange visits with Susie.” He paused momentarily, as if he was considering very carefully the words he was about to say. “It’s come to our attention that Jaye is in a relationship with someone else now. Chrissy, I’m so sorry that this has happened.”
I looked at my dad, wanting to respond, but I couldn’t get a word out. I saw that his heart was breaking to have to deliver this news—that he knew how I had hoped Jaye, Susie, and I would someday be together as a family. I’m sure that it was less than a minute that I sat there, although it seemed like an eternity. Finally, I stood up and said, “I gotta go.”
Al stood as well and volunteered to drive me home.
I was glad that Al was with me, but on the slow walk to the car, we didn’t talk—he gave me space. I cried but it was a cry of release, not anguish; for the most part, I was okay. God had prepared me for this outcome. It had been nine months since my dad had asked me not to contact Jaye, with three months left until our “reunion.” I appreciated that my parents and Al had been as hopeful as I had been for Jaye to change, too, during these months. But now we had the answer; we all knew it was over for good. And even though it was hard to hear, at least the news came gently from my dad, someone I loved and trusted, whose support for me was unchanging. I was done waiting and wondering. I was ready to move on.
In January, Susie and I returned to Zion for the next semester. I was where I belonged, where God had called me, where I felt invigorated and had purpose. I couldn’t turn back because now I had tasted genuine freedom in all aspects of my life and it had changed me into a different person. I believe my dad saw that difference when he gave me the news about Jaye. He knew I wasn’t about to return to that crazy life I had lived; he knew I was in a good place, where I could handle the disappointment without caving in.
I had come to realize that when you step out of the darkness into the light in a genuine way, you finally understand what a pi
tiful life the darkness has offered you. Thanks to God, I had so much more going for me, so much to look forward to; His best was yet to come.
Not long after coming back, I approached President Crandall and his wife, Jeanne, about doing a special project with the Zion choir. I had a newfound self-confidence that compelled me to bring it up. With my lack of experience, I was surprised that the idea would even be considered, but I was honored when they responded enthusiastically. Not only was I following in my mom’s footsteps as a choir director, but now I would have the opportunity to do what she had done numerous times with the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir—record an album.
The entire process took about six months to complete, from choosing the songs, to learning the music, to the actual recording sessions. The final product wasn’t going to be limited to just the family and friends of Zion, it was going to be sold in stores! When I finally held the brand-new album—Jesus Is Everything—by the Zion choir in my hands, I couldn’t contain my excitement.
The Crandalls and I agreed that a concert debut in Boston would be a wonderful way to release the album. Notices circulated throughout churches in New England, announcing that the Zion choir would be singing at the historic Tremont Temple.
The big day was finally here. I arrived before the choir and walked into the sanctuary, stunned by its opulence. Burnished golden trim accented the red-velvet seats on the main floor and in the U-shaped balcony, as well as the choir seating on the platform. The organ’s pipes—framed by a stunning, ornate latticework—rose up as a magnificent centerpiece. Sitting alone in the auditorium as the choir started to arrive backstage, I drank it all in. I would never have imagined I’d have the opportunity to be part of something like this.
A Bible verse that I had learned when I was young came to my mind: “Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.” Ever since I was a little girl, I had always wondered what that verse would look like for me. Now I knew. I sat there reflecting not just on the miracle God had done in my life, but the miracle He was doing with my life. God amazed me.
Before long the doors were opened. Excited conversations filled the auditorium as the guests eagerly waited for the concert to begin. When the choir members filed onto the risers, the noise died down. We were ready.
I smiled at the choir, and their faces came alive with radiance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dr. and Mrs. Crandall, seated in the front row with my parents. After the introduction to the song began, I lifted my arms high in the air and began directing. By the time we finished the first verse, it didn’t feel like a concert to me anymore. It was if I were back at the first prayer meetings on Atlantic Avenue, worshiping and experiencing God’s undeniable presence. Love for Him had been the powerful heartbeat of that little church, and now it was my heartbeat too.
My nerves disappeared and I was in awe, really understanding the meaning of the words we were singing. It was as if we had been ushered into a holy place, adding our voices to a heavenly choir. I sensed the power of God’s Spirit taking over, a power that was sustained until the final song. The music that had vanished from my life had been restored. He had put a liberating melody in my heart; there was no doubt I was now the new girl in the new song.
MESSAGE FROM CHRISSY TO YOU . . .
Sitting in a softly lit coffee shop a few miles from my home right now, I can almost hear the music and worship from that concert so many years ago. As I come to the end of my story, I am so excited to finally be able to talk to you. I wish we were face to face. Although I don’t know your name, I have been praying for you. I’ve been praying not just because I love you but because of how precious you are to God.
It’s not an accident that you read this story . . . whether someone gave it to you as a gift, or you purchased it yourself. I believe God wanted your attention. You see, this really isn’t my story—it’s God’s story . . . of how He can step into a person’s life and make a transformation so great that the person will never be the same again. It’s amazing to think that God is the one who created us and He knew us before we even came into this world. He formed us even in the darkness of our mother’s womb.
I don’t know where this finds you today, but if you feel something gripping your heart right now, it’s not the book. It’s not me. It’s God’s Holy Spirit. He’s reaching toward you and He’s calling your name, wanting to draw close to you. Maybe you’ve been running for so long, trying so many different things, in and out of bad relationships, and you find yourself like I was . . . with a tired heart.
Jesus wants to enter your tired heart today, and He wants you to experience a love unlike anything you’ve ever known. His love is faithful, His love is unconditional, and His love tells you every day that you’re good enough for Him. If you feel right now that this book was God’s note to you—just like the note that was given to my dad at that Tuesday night prayer meeting—and you want to see a miracle happen in your life, I want you to pray with me. I’m going to start the prayer and you can finish it, but if it’s at all possible, go someplace where you can be alone. I’ll wait. Go now.
I’m going to start the prayer with you right now, and then I want you to finish it. Whether you are on your knees or sitting in a chair, I want you to talk to God out loud and tell Him how you’re feeling, the same way I did when I prayed that morning with Lorna. It’s okay to cry because God wants you to come to Him just the way you are. Pray with me . . .
Dear Jesus, I’m coming to you because I really need you right now. If you are real, please do a miracle for me just like You did for Chrissy. I invite You into my heart. I need You to come into my heart and . . .
I’m praising God right now because if you prayed that prayer, I just know that He’s already doing far beyond what you could ever imagine. He loves you. Remember, nothing is impossible with God.
If you just prayed that prayer, go to chrissytoledo.com for next steps.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chrissy is joyfully married to Al Toledo, the friend who had been there for her all along. They have three children and lead the Chicago Tabernacle, a vibrant, multi-ethnic church on Chicago’s north side. Chrissy is passionate about leading girls (of all ages) into freedom that can be found through a relationship with Christ.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
If the following people had not followed God’s prompts to encourage me to write this book, I would not have had the courage to do it: Ashley Wiersma, Cynthia Wilson, Roslyn Jordan, Ann Spangler, and Jan Long Harris of Tyndale House Publishers.
Thank you to my Susie, Annie, and Tommy for your excitement that carried me. I’m so proud of who you are.
Thank you, Shelly Torres and all of the intercessors at Chicago Tabernacle, for “praying this in.” I love you all.
Bonne Steffen, you were a breath of fresh air throughout the editing process. Clearly, God chose you, and you are wonderful.
Greatest thanks to Dawn, my dearest friend, for your creative input and for holding my hand the whole way. Florida, Kentucky, Bahamas, Chicago, moo shu chicken, Thai rice, moldy carpet, robes and slippers, #sisterly-love.
And to my husband, Al, who wiped my tears, and was okay with me sharing this story for the sake of even one girl finding freedom.
NOTES
PAGE 6
It was a painting of Jesus: Although the painting was commonly referred to as “Jesus at the United Nations,” artist Harry Anderson actually titled this 1961 work the Prince of Peace, which you can view here: http://teensleuth.com/blog/?p=17266.
PAGE 13
‘O come, let us adore Him, . . .’: This beloved Christmas carol, “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” is an eighteenth-century Latin hymn (“Adeste Fidelis”) attributed to John Francis Wade (1711–1786) and translated by Frederick Oakeley (1802–1880) and others.
PAGE 16
Now I lay me down to sleep . . .: A classic eighteenth-century children’s prayer that was included in The New England Primer, the first reading primer for the Am
erican colonies.
PAGES 23–24
“Bless the Lord, oh my soul,”: “Bless His Holy Name” is a paraphrased version of Psalm 103:1-2 set to music by Andrae Crouch in 1973. Copyright © Bud John Songs, Inc. It is featured on the His Best album by the group Andrae Crouch and The Disciples, along with other recordings.
PAGE 36
It was getting to the end of the night’s show: Happy Days was a popular television sitcom that ran from 1974 to 1984 on ABC. I am recalling the dialogue in this particular episode to the best of my memory as an eight-year-old.
PAGE 41
In everything, give Him thanks: Written by Lanny Wolfe. Copyright © 1978 Lanny Wolfe Music (administered by EMI Christian Music Publishing). This song was on the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir’s 1981 album Giving Him Thanks.
PAGE 49
“Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee.”: This song, written by Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey in 1977 for the 1978 film Grease, was sung by Stockard Channing. The sound track was released in April 1978 on the RSO/Polydor label, two months before the film premiered.
PAGE 58
my favorite song began to play: “You Give Good Love” was written by La Forrest “LaLa” Cope in 1984 and recorded by Whitney Houston as a lead single on her 1985 album titled Whitney Houston, released on the Arista Records label. Copyright © BMI ASCAP.
PAGE 59
Tell them for me, please, tell them for me: The song “Tell Them,” written by singer/songwriter Andrae Crouch in 1975, was released on Andrae Crouch and The Disciples’ Take Me Back album, which took top Grammy honors in the Soul Gospel Performance category that same year. Copyright © Bud John Songs, Inc.
Girl in the Song Page 20
