A Faith in God that Moved Me

How does one consolidate years of God’s craftsmanship and storytelling abilities into just a few quick words? How do I share my testimony? How do I retell the story God has given me? I struggle to understand much in this life. For starters, I’m a lower support needs autistic, and most of my life has been a self-destructive mess, involving over 15 psychiatric hospital stays for self-destructive stunts.

I’ve tried to take my own life a few times.

Thirteen, lying in a hospital bed, being told I was going to die. Wishing it would just hurry up and happen. Sixteen and knowing I had failed once more, (for which I am now eternally grateful to God for only putting an Oxford comma down, and not a period.)

My life has been a challenge after a challenge.

You see, I grew up in an atheist household, Jesus and church simply weren’t a part of my life, we didn’t even say bless you, never mind open a bible and pray.

I had turned 16 a few months prior to my fifteenth, and final hospital stay, where I met a kind girl named Bella. Bella was a sweet soul, with lovely long brown hair and kind eyes, but she also had a faith in God that moved me.

She believed in him even in what were some of the worst days of her life, and I admire her for that. I believed in her, and Jesus believed in me.

Jesus had always been there, even when I did not know him, he knew me. He knew my heart and soul, and he knew what I would do next.

When I got out, I asked my mom for a bible, as a joke, I wasn’t serious…right? And next it was church.

“I just want to see what it’s like, that’s all.”

And then I started attending Sunday services on weekends where my mental health allowed it, and spent time with God, the days it didn’t.

Over the last few months, I’ve grown closer to Jesus and no longer act like He’s not a big part of my life. My mental health struggles persist, but now I have Jesus there with me to help guide the light that my feet walk under.

In Jesus Christ’s name we say,

Amen.