When I was little, I didn’t understand totally how this all worked. I didn’t understand why we had to order water every time or split meals, why our house was smaller than most of my friends, and why we were always in money-saving mode. I was never stressed about my needs being met, but I didn’t understand how much my parents were living by faith to what God had called them to do.
I didn’t understand that everything we have is the total provision from God till I got older and had to pay for things myself. God not only met our needs because my parents trusted Him, but He also blessed us more than we could have ever imagined. He blessed us Christmas presents and vacations, but he also blessed us with an amazing childhood and community through Cru that I would NEVER trade for any amount of money. It has shaped me and made me who I am today, and I am so thankful for that.
My parents taught me one of the greatest truths about God which so many people are blind too because of our materialistic culture, and that is God is the provider. Everything we have is from God and ultimately belongs to God, not us. You will never know Him as provider without looking to Him only for your provision.
It is so freeing to realize that everything we have, money, friends, a home, food, gifts, education, etc., is from God and there’s nothing we could do to deserve it. And the more thankful you are for God’s provision, the more joyful and generous you will be. It helps you break free from comparison, worry, jealousy, and discontentment because you realize it doesn’t belong to you anyways.
When I was living on my own in college and graduate school, I could only work part-time to pay for rent, food, bills, gas, etc. There were times that I would panic wondering how would I save and pay for rent the following months. And honestly, sometimes I was really really ticked. I wanted to buy my own car so I didn’t have to use my family’s. I wanted to go out to dinner with friends without having to choose the cheapest thing on the menu. I wanted to go to that concert that everyone else was going to but knew it wasn’t wise to spend money on it at the time.
But I would then always remind myself of two things, God has always provided for me, and everything I have is from Him. And that would always lead my heart to thankfulness instead of bitterness.
His word is true and still brings tears to my eyes when I read Matthew 6:25-33 because I can remember God telling me over and over to look how He constantly provides for the birds and the flower, so how much more will he provide for me, his daughter made in the image of God worth so much more than all the birds and the flowers!?
Girls, you are God’s precious creation, his daughter with whom he wants a deep relationship with… how much more do you think God will provide for you if he provides already for the birds and grass?!
And you know what’s crazy? The more you realize how much you have been given, the more you will want to give to others… even if you don’t have excess money, you still want to give anyways. That’s the result of God working in you. And no amount of money can buy the joy that He gives.
I want to encourage all of you today who may be worrying or anxious about money or finances… look to Him! He promises to provide for you. Aren’t you worth more than the lilies and birds of the fields? Yes, you are.
I just wrote an entire post on how Brendon & I’s story began but realized I was awkwardly dancing around the simple truth: our beginning was scandalous… to the point that Heather (who I didn’t know at the time) sat him down and interrogated him about what the heck he was doing. Looking back, I’m actually questioning his sanity too. 😉
Here are the facts:
I was 16 and he was 25.
We met at a vegetable tray.
We started dating when I turned 18.
He proposed at a vegetable tray two years later.
Now we are 21 and 31 and married.
Can we get past the age thing? Cool.
Official Disclaimer: if my future 17-year-old daughter ever asks me if an older guy can drive 30 hours to come visit her, I will absolutely freak out.
Back in the day, the band I played keys for was opening for his band, Tenth Avenue North, at a concert in my hometown. That night, I was preoccupied with helping my mom who was producing the event so I actually remember very little of my interactions with anyone that night. Anyway, later that week Brendon found me online (creepy?) and we started talking about music and the university he went to. He was just a friend (I’m serious.) I had other healthy friendships with guys and had no idea that Brendon was interested in me. Like, clueless. FOR A WHOLE YEAR.
So obviously, I didn’t “just know” that B would be my husband when I first laid eyes on him. When God gives some people instant confirmation that their spouse is standing in front of them, I call that a beautiful blessing, but I didn’t expect or receive that. I was actually hesitant and scared of giving my heart to someone else. What if he steals it and breaks it? What if I make a mistake? I think I’m too weird for him. Am I too young for this? Is he serious about finding a wife? I just got my drivers license.
Eventually, basically, I remember saying to my mom, “He cares so much about what I say when he asks me questions.” She finally convinced me that he liked me. Can we mention S-L-O-W here? As in we talked mayyybeee once a week and saw each other mayyybeee every other month and then BAM.
He called to ask me if he could visit.
At this point, with the miraculous approval of my protective Colombian father, the answer was obviously DUH.
He drove Florida. To see me. And get to know my family. He gave me deep respect and I remember having sore cheeks from smiling for those three days.
Fast forward a year of long distance dating… arrive at me moving to Nashville for college. We made scrambled eggs for dinner. We went to the chiropractor. We sat on the floor of his living room and watched documentaries about Alaska. We spent summers visiting each other. I sat next to him as he painted his bathroom and he sat next to me as I studied for zoology tests. We planted a garden in his yard and his bachelor pad was slowly invaded by my sneaky decorative pillows. We wandered around farmers markets. He learned that I was an impulsive nerd and I learned that he was a meticulous nerd. We had hard conversations, tense days because of unrealistic expectations for each other, and conversations to get past communication roadblocks, but we always prayed for and with each other. Some days of getting to know each other are exhausting and some are exhilarating, but when we operate out of gratitude the crap melts away. I realized that being loved by Brendon, while imperfect, was like being loved by Christ- both kind and strong and safe and radical.
When that love was begging to be official and forever, my family hid in the bushes nearby (again, creepy?) while he asked me to be his WIFE.
Three days after we got engaged, I disappeared to a farm in Indiana to begin studying agroecology. On the first day of class in a tiny town that isn’t officially on a map, my professor asked my four classmates and me, “Why are you here?” Although I felt a deep peace about being there, I honestly answered, “I’m don’t know. I’m here to find out.” Since then, my heart has also exploded for small farm, organic vegetable growing. Dreams buzz around in my head all day, seed catalogs are always with me in my backpack, and I literally can’t stop thinking about the status of my broccoli plants at home when we are away. And could we have chickens with our travel schedule? Since working for a non-profit farm for my last semester in school, I want to grow food anywhere and everywhere. Don’t tell me I can’t grow avocados in Nashville. We will find a way.
Cue graduation. Then marriage. Dang, y’all. The last year has been the greatest year I’ve known so far. Living on the road in a bus with a dozen people is challenging at times but thrilling. Every single day is different. We must be intentional to connect and not let days slip by, but oh the adventures we’ve had thus far! God has been faithful to consistently humble and encourage this Type A, slightly scatterbrained, ESFJ (whatever that means). Reflecting on the past is always eye-opening. I see God’s presence in it all and I’m slowly coming to a place of thankfulness even for the struggles because I know He didn’t leave me.
We are complex creatures- full of light and joy deep down inside and sometimes life gets hard and it mutes that God-given spark. Thank you for sticking with us as we tell our crooked, painful, beautiful stories and thank you for sharing yours. This is a place where we can be honest with our crap with the intentions of bearing each other’s burdens because that’s what Jesus did for his friends too. There is serious freedom in surrender to the Lord. He can handle whatever we’ve got to unload. He really can.
Let’s walk into that together.
Written by one of our readers:
My story begins 6 or 7 years ago. Not because that was when I was born, but because major stuff has been happening in my life since then. You see, my parents separated when I was 2 (I’m 26 now), and my mom raised me and my younger brother as a single parent. Growing up we spent a considerable amount of time with our dad, but we lived our day-to-day lives without him.
About six or seven years ago, my dad and I had a huge fight- a fight big enough that it has kept us apart all these years.
I was hurt, angry and upset not just for this one incident but for a lifetime of hurt and pain that had been bottled up or excused away my whole life. I told myself I would never let anyone else treat me that way ever again. So I began to isolate myself and slowly gained about 150 pounds.
Long story short, I had a very personal encounter with the Lord. He made Himself so real that I just couldn’t ignore it, and it was also then that I heard His voice for the first time. So I made a commitment to follow Jesus. I went from not caring about myself or how I treated my body depressed and hurting, to having the motivation to become a healthy person both physically and spiritually.
Fast forward to last year. I found out that my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Not from him but from my brother who heard it from various family members. I was so hurt that he wouldn’t just call to talk to me I decided then and there that I didn’t care anymore. I was not going to waste my time and energy on someone who obviously didn’t want me there. The problem with my way of thinking is that God wasn’t done with him yet.
My uncle called and left me a message last week. “If you have anything to say to your dad, you need to come now”. I felt the Holy Spirit say to me that this was it- I needed to go. So Friday last week one of my best friends offered to make the 4.5 hour trip with me to see him. We get to the hospital to see him, and I cannot explain the level of peace that I felt in that room. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but it sure wasn’t peace. My dad and I sat next to each other and talked for the first time in years. He held my hand the entire time, and just could not stop looking at me.
Before I left I looked at my dad and asked “Hey, can I pray for you before I leave?” “Sure.” he said- and I did. I did what I thought I could never do. I prayed for peace, mercy and love to overtake him. I prayed healing over his cancer-ridden body. I held his hand and made eye contact with him for the first time in years. I also remember putting my hand on his face and saying “I just want Jesus to become more and more real to you.” His response was “He becomes more and more real every day.”
I never thought I could do it- and I promise you if it were up to me I wouldn’t have. This is the beauty of our God- He chooses and transforms even the most unlikely of people. But these are exactly the kind of people that Jesus looked at and said, “Come. Follow Me.”
I got into the car and I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of me. The memory of the last awful confrontation I had with my dad years ago has haunted me every day since it happened. I got saved, joined a church, went through Freedom ministry, conferences, personal ministry sessions, and even went through processing my feelings and thoughts with people I love and trust who love me unconditionally. I could not break free of this memory. It kept me from feeling like people really love me; like I am good enough…it even affected me being able to fully realize the Father’s love for me.
It was not until the Holy Spirit in His perfect timing told me clearly to go that it changed. Now the last memory that we have of each other is good and peace filled. But here’s the crazy part. I had to get up and go. My father was never going to make the first move. But what if it was never all about me? Sitting in that hospital room, I found that there were some things that I had to apologize for. My selfish and self centered attitude for one. You see, I had made this entire situation about what he did to me- my anger and my pain and hurt took over and I allowed those thoughts to distance me from him. That day, it just wasn’t about me.
Here’s an even cooler epilogue to the story- remember the peace I talked about? The peace I felt in the room that I couldn’t understand? My crazy awesome Jesus loving friend who went with me said in the car- “I bet your dad had an experience- that’s why you can’t explain it.” I thought to myself, well maybe he has…I’m not sure.
I arrived at my mom’s house the next day and was telling her how the visit went, and how I was able to lay hands on my father and pray for him. She said “well, you know he’s had a lot of people go in and out of his room praying for him…you brother said when he was there yesterday one of his old co-workers stopped by, had your dad kneel and led him through salvation.”
YOU GUYS. I’m not sure there are enough words to convey what I am feeling here. In my mind, this could never happen. This is a man I was convinced was too far gone… and he’s wasn’t. Jesus still came and was with both of us the whole time.
I want to encourage anyone who feels like there is a relationship that is past mending- I promise you it isn’t. If we let God write our story, it will turn out more beautiful than we could ever have imagined.
*Ashley’s Dad passed away this past week, just a few days after Ashley wrote this post for us. We are so thankful that she let us into her story. We love you, Ashley. -AGLM
Written by one of our readers:
I guess you’d say my story started when I was born. 😉 But I don’t remember much from before I was about 5. I know most of my childhood was sheltered and happy. I grew up in a Christian home. I had (have) a big yard, and 5 siblings (you know…tickle monster, clubs, mud pies…a lighthearted childhood!). I was always in good health and mostly happy. For a while I thought I was saved, but now I know I wasn’t. I didn’t have assurance. Oh, I believed in Jesus’ existence my whole life. I “accepted” His “free” gift of salvation over and over again. But nothing changed in my heart. I didn’t actually believe I was bad. I didn’t realize my NEED. And I didn’t realize Jesus was crazy about me. Yeah, I knew “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so” but it was just because I was told that, not because my heart had been transformed by that Love.
Tragedy struck in January 2012 when my wonderful dad passed away unexpectedly. I think that his passing really woke me up to the fact that this life is temporary. My 11-year-old brain was desperately trying to deny the news that my daddy isn’t here anymore at the same time I was trying to let it sink in. He is with Jesus now. This experience shouted to my young heart that tomorrow isn’t promised.
This is scary for me to say, but it’s important. God has led me to see that I may not have been saved and seriously started pursuing Him if it hadn’t been for my dad’s death. I know. That’s been a really tough realization for me. My dad was a joyful, strong, and gentle man. I never doubted he loved me. I love and miss him more every day.
I’ve seen God redeem my dad’s death, not just in the redemption of my soul, but also in how I can reach out to others now. My loss has made my heart go out to people who are in pain. It has reminded me to look beyond the small right now, to keep sharp focus on the bigger picture. It has taught me crazy lessons of trust and surrender in God.
In November of 2012, my older sister participated in a local home school drama seminar, which was run by a Christian Drama trade school called The Academy of Arts ministries (AOA). Among other things, AOA travels to Christian schools and home-school groups to hold weeklong drama seminars and on the last day they perform a play. Their mission is to bring the Bible alive– it’s very effective! Throughout the week, my sister told us that group shared a special love among themselves—almost like they were siblings.
Little did any of us know how important her new friends would become to us.
September 2013 a friend introduced my family to Tenth Avenue North. TAN has a huge part in my story. Through them God revealed to me so many truths I had not known or taken seriously before. I learned that I am free to struggle, I am more than what I do, and redemption wins. By them I have been challenged to be honest, to give grace as I have received it, to forgive even if it feels like I’m losing. I have seen and felt God’s love in whole new ways. Their words and music say what I need to hear and tell me I am not alone with my feelings and struggles. Not only through their music have they instructed me, but also in their daily lives. I don’t know them personally, but mostly through the internet I have seen that they’re serious not only about saying but about doing.
They practice what they preach. That is so encouraging and inspiring to me.
The following November (2013), my big brother and I decided to “try it out”. 😉 We had an awesome time! Every morning we would be a little early to sing hymns and pray as a group before the day officially began.
I felt so at home! I knew beyond a doubt that I belonged.
On Saturday after the production, clean up, and pizza party, we wept for hours. I promised a friend I would try my best to come back. I scavenged money, and returned the next year…and the next. Between seminars we love getting together. We will make something up, or drive 6-12 hours, just so we can be together for a few hours! Without these fantastic people, I know I would not be who I am. God has redeemed so much within me through my AOA family.
Then came 2014. Though it had several very beautiful memories, it was overall a very chaotic time in my emotional and spiritual life. That year I wrestled with bitterness, hate, and anger. I struggled to forgive (others as well as myself), to love, and let go. That was the year I hid in my closet (spiritually and physically) several times, not because I was trying to pray, but because I was ashamed, and emotionally hurt–because I was trying to hide from everything. Trying to shut the world, the pain out. Even though I wasn’t planning to pray, by God’s grace, I did end up crying out to my Maker from my closet floor. It was in those dark times that I most deeply experienced His presence; though I know those were the times I least deserved Him. It was a long process, but that year I came to the point where I finally saw my desperate need for Jesus. And so, it was also the best year of my life in more ways than one. This was the point where He could show me that He loves me with an unreasonable, unquenchable, and unfathomable love. That was the year I really WANTED God for myself and started following my Savior. My heart began to be transformed by His Love.
I am from California, born and raise, and have been living in Raleigh NC for two years with my hilarious, handsome, and loving husband Hank. I have a mom and dad and two older brothers who I adore with all my heart. Growing up in California has its incredible blessings but also its very difficult cultural standards. It’s so different from North Carolina I find myself almost laughing because I never thought I would experience such a culture shock in my own country, let alone be married to a sweet Georgia gentleman! This isn’t a bad thing at all but definitely makes me see that where I came from has shaped me into the type of Christian and woman I am today. It’s always good to remember where you came from right?
When I was in the 1st grade my family started this tradition of traveling to a different country every summer. This greatly impacted my life at such a young age because it forced me to see with my own eyes how other cultures lived. I saw beautiful things but also poverty in many different forms. Every trip I realized more and more that most of the world lives differently than we do in the states. This sparked a HUGE love for different cultures and almost an addiction to travel and adventure…Which is a crucial part of why I think I have always wanted to become a missionary, and why I have made some crazy decisions in my life that others would think to be risky or unwise…you’ll see :).
As a little girl, I remember feeling morally different from my friends – or simply just wanting different things in life. Being surrounded by such a liberal culture formed my worldview as a believer and forced me to be comfortable with being different. I understood that my beliefs were not popular. It wasn’t normal or cool to believe in God. In fact, it was looked down upon and seen as “ignorant” or “narrow-minded”. I had far more non-Christian friends than I did friends at church. It was never a normal sight to see people reading their Bibles in coffee shops, and out of my public high school class of 600+ students, I could count on one hand how many true Christians I knew. So when conversations were brought up about what we wanted to be when we grew up, instead of saying “a doctor” or something of that sort, I would say “a missionary” or something crazy like live in a hut somewhere with a tribe (which I still honestly would LOVE to do lol)…but nothing prized by this world or relatable to my friends.
The success-seeking, “do it this way” culture I was growing up in wasn’t attractive to me, and little did I know this being different mentality would play over into so many areas of my life. Almost as if I just enjoyed swimming against the current of cultural norms. I see now that I was developing a rebellious, free spirit. All that being said, it’s a complete anomaly that I am saved. Seriously. Truly. Wholly. By God’s grace alone. Growing up in a world that is addicted to wealth and success, to physical appearance and the type of degree you have, and is SO good at storing up those achievements even at the expense of their souls…Yes…it is truly by God’s grace that my heart turned towards Him.
This grace that God gave me to understand His love didn’t come easy, though. It was a tough battle, and a trial that brought me to seek the gospels in a way I never had before. In the eighth grade, I felt that I was a Christian: I attended church with my family on Sundays and read the Bible maybe as often as any 13 year old, but my faith had never been deeply tested and I didn’t have a true intimate relationship with Christ. This changed, though, on the day that my dad told my brothers and I that my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. My mom was my most treasured possession on this earth. She was everything to me. She had to fight through chemotherapy for a year, get a full mastectomy (completely removing both breasts), and had a couple more years of surgeries to follow. Watching her go through these battles was easily the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
I was angry and deeply afraid. But God used it to draw me to Himself. I went for a walk on a dirt path in the mountains near our house, and prayed and wept before my Father. In my expression of furious anger towards him, crying out of desperation and fear, God showed me that He was simply there. He was clearly asking me, “Am I still worthy to follow if I take your mom away?” He was asking if I trusted Him and truly believed He was a Good Father. Did I believe He loved my mom more than I did? Was I ready to lay my life down for Him because He laid His life down for me? Would I do so, even if He took my mom away? …And through the tears, I said “yes”.
I’m so thankful to tell you that my mom survived, and even defeated kidney cancer just three years ago. Seeing her be so strong and never lose hope has truly changed me. Her battle with cancer has drawn me close to Christ in ways that I can’t even describe. Because of this personal commitment, I was baptized on my first missions trip in the Baltic Sea in Latvia when I was 15.
I lived and worked in an orphanage in India for two summers in high school and this deep love for travel continued to be affirmed. All the while I was on a year round volleyball team that traveled nationally. It was a lot of work but I loved every second of it. I started receiving many scholarship offers and because it was the next level to achieve in my volleyball career, I committed to the University of San Diego at the beginning of my junior year.
When I think back to how quickly and freely I made that decision, I loved how fearless I was but also wish I could have had deeper discussions about my future and where my heart was really at. I had this unending passion to do missions overseas and couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do…and then I also had this incredible opportunity to play D1 volleyball and get my education paid for…why wouldn’t I take that?? I would really only be going there for volleyball…but that’s ok right?? This decision started to seem like something everyone else wanted and desired for me, and although I loved playing and went through with it, I deep down knew it wasn’t what I wanted and that it wouldn’t satisfy my longings for very long. This was my first big life decision that I was questioning: “Is this what God wants me to do, or what my coaches and parents and friends think is right?”
Over and over I saw people obtain it all by the worlds standards, but truly they just.felt.empty. Many people I knew had no self worth even though they had all of these things; they had no joy even though they were told money would buy them happiness; they thought they didn’t need God because their academic achievements told them they could do it all themselves.
These were the things I grew up being afraid of. I desperately wanted to avoid believing those lies. And THAT is what fed my rebellious spirit against the “cultural norms”. I had inadvertently faced death with my mom and it kind of made me internally say “YOLO” even though that didn’t even exist then. God doesn’t say, “Get perfect grades, go to college, get married, find the right job…and THEN follow me.” No. THAT is what I wanted to be careful of and as a teenager tried to navigate the best I knew how. This has always been an internal battle of mine. Maybe some of you totally get what I’m talking about, and maybe some of you are for the first time asking if you have just been doing what everyone else is because it’s easy, but I encourage you to just go to God and ask Him. Ask the hard questions. We can do that together :).
Written by one of our readers:
You’re not the only one who feels like this
Feeling like you lose more than you win
Like life is just an endless hill you climb
You try and try but never arrive
I’m telling you something this racing this running
Oh you’re working way too hard
And this perfection you’re chasing is just energy wasted
Cause He loves you like you are
I felt a little shocked the first time I heard this song. How did a Canadian musician whom I have never met somehow write a paragraph exactly documenting my struggles during the past few years?
See, I grew up in a good Christian home, with five sibling and parents who loved each other and us. Yep, I pretty much had it made. But a few years ago, a trait that had for the most part laid dormant during my childhood reared it’s ugly head in full force, and I was suddenly a fanatical perfectionist.
I suppose it came partially from the fact that I am highly sensitive, which is in strong contrast to my three rough and tough older siblings. I felt rather different — in a not good way — from the rest of my family, and to counter that decided I had to be the perfect daughter and sister and friend and whatever else. I can also be extremely secretive about weighty matters, and the combination of those two led to a very long, lonely period of my life.
I was obsessed with being perfect, for my parents, for myself, and for Jesus. And of course, I failed miserably. It’s simply not possible for a hormonal teenaged girl to be perfect, day in and day out. So when I inevitably goofed, it was hard to keep from all out hating myself. Self harm began to make sense. And then it became a temptation. I thankfully never acted on that temptation — mostly because it wasn’t something a perfect girl would do — but it was often on my mind just the same.
Any sort of critique or rebuke would make me extremely defensive because I didn’t want any more guilt added to load I already carried. But it was always added anyway, and then I would have to fight my way through the next few days until I did something ‘right’ enough to please myself and take some of the pressure off.
Though it may have originated in my family environment, my perfectionism injected the most poison into my relationship with Jesus. Because I wasn’t measuring up to what I felt like He should have from me, I preferred to remain at arms length, not to protect myself, but to protect Him from me. As someone once said, ‘You hand me grace, and I think You’re handing me an expectation. And it weighs so much.’ I put up barricades because anything more than short, distant communication was unsettling, again, not to defend myself, but to keep Him out of my mess. And I thought I was hiding my issues pretty well, until my very perceptive brother let me know otherwise.
I had just purchased Tenth Avenue North’s latest album, No Man Is An Island. And while I liked the concept of the album in theory, I still was hesitant to open up about my troubles to anyone. While chatting with my brother one day (who is no Tenth Avenue North fan and knows very little of their music) he said, “I get the feeling you’re on an island.” I was slightly freaked out by the coincidence, and that, along with some other factors, prompted me to confide in some trusted friends about what was going on. But for the next few months, I still was on a roller coaster of guilt that just wouldn’t go away.
And then, after a startling revelation one evening as I was driving home from work, things finally began to change. I had the music cranked up and pondering the fact that the only time I felt close to God anymore was when I was worshiping. It suddenly clicked. I had spent years focusing on my own inadequacies, and even when you’re looking at yourself finding fault, you’re still looking at yourself.
Since that memorable day, I’ve been trying hard to ditch the microscope I was carrying around to assess my failures with, and invest in a telescope instead. It hasn’t been all uphill, and I often feel myself sliding back into the old familiar ruts of self hatred. But by God’s grace, I’m at least spending a lot less time there than I used to.
I found out in middle school what being a Christian really meant. I thought I was okay. I had thought because I had been baptized me and Jesus were cool. Boy, was I wrong. I struggled with trying to find who I was in Christ. I always had a fear that my (many) prayers to God didn’t count. I had “lost my salvation” by not being good enough for God. I went back and forth, gaining Hid favor and then losing it. I was a selfish, selfish person. I wasn’t a “bad” kid but I was bad in the worst way. Now I realize how disrespectful, angry, and hurtful I had been to other people. I knew I wasn’t good. But I was too self-centered and self-righteous to realize I needed a change.
But I digress.
2011 was the worst year. I entered the year and was bombarded with more bad stuff in a few months than in my entire life. I found myself alone. I fell silent and shut myself off from everyone. I continued to put a happy face on when I was around others. I refused to let them see me cry. I was surrounded by the sickness and death of my family. I struggled with what I believed about myself, other people, and God. I wanted to die.
For 3 years I dealt with these horrible feelings of loneliness, misery, hatred, fear in its deepest form, and the realization of who I truly was. I was a horrible, selfish person. But I couldn’t change. I wouldn’t change. I just wanted to give up and die. That’s what my mind was telling me to do. I couldn’t keep going. No one wanted me to keep going. I wasn’t needed. I was a failure and a screw up who just made people sad so why go on?
One year things changed. I joined a Christian theatre group. There I found friends. And not just friends to go to when I wanted to have a good time. These were people who cared. They were living out the faith that I thought I believed. Something began to melt inside of me.
One night I had gotten a “gig” playing drums for the theatre group’s production of “The Wizard of Oz”. Completely last minute. The night of the second performance I was hurt by someone close to me. They basically said what I had been telling myself for 3 years. No one needed me. I sat backstage listening to the kids worship God before the show (a usual ritual for them) feeling all those things I had been dealing with…Then the worship leader said something. She said “You know, we never think about how miserable we are before we accept Christ.” A light went on. “God, I’m miserable now,” I thought. “and I’m sick of it.
My castmates saw the change. I felt the change.
I never had a suicidal thought from that day on.
April 8, 2015 I went to a Disciple concert. I was finally going to see this band that had influenced me so much when I was lost and suicidal. They played a bit of “Invisible” and then told the story behind it. I wept. The story was the lead singer was out of song ideas for their next album. He prayed for a song that God would use as a message to the generation he would be singing to.
To keep me alive.
Why? Because He loves me. That’s the reason.
I was once dead. Now I’m alive. I am a messenger for Him. He wants me to use my story to help other people. I am a messenger.
My playlist: “Invisible” by Disciple
“The Reason” by Lacey Sturm
“Not Alone” by RED
“SOS (hope won’t let go)” by About a Mile