I wish my story could have ended like yours. The testimony you put on Facebook when you went to Planned Parenthood or whatever clinic and you just couldn’t. How so many years later you have a son or you have a daughter who is doing this or is doing that. I wish I could tell you the same. When I was 16-17, I chose life. When I was 19, I didn’t. Death started in me long before then and then it spiraled down into a black hole of drug abuse before I finally hit rock bottom. I’m not here to tell you all the awful things I did. Or even how I was some kind of helpless victim. But, I will tell you this: I was deceived.
The problem with being deceived is that you don’t know you are deceived. The way you believe, or think you should believe, pretty much determines where your steps are going to go. I remember the reason why I chose life with my oldest son. I remember sitting in a high school classroom listening to people argue whether they thought abortion should be legal or not. I remember not even allowing my head to think all the way through what this person says or that person says; I wasn’t saved then, so I didn’t know what God thought. But I remember the stigma I felt in that classroom. I remember the weight of something when passionate people were arguing over what they believed. I didn’t hear their excuses. I didn’t hear their reasons. I just felt something. Something heavy. I knew from that heaviness that I would keep that baby.
A couple years later I was trying to live. I was trying to survive. I wanted to be Miss Independent. I wanted my life to mean something. I was hungry for greatness, for honor, for recognition. I thought I would get those things when I pursued education. I got my GED, then I got a scholarship to a local community college. I worked my rear end off taking double full time credits so I could get the most out of what was offered to me. I was working 30-40 hours a week, too. I really wanted to make a difference in other people’s lives so that they could pursue education, too. Education had become my god. It was what everyone saw as good, no matter what religion, it seemed. I was raised Catholic, so when my Christian friends would try to talk to me about God I would brush them off as much as I could and tell them I was Catholic. I didn’t even realize that I was claiming to believe in the same God. I just wanted them to leave me alone. But they wouldn’t.
Every now and then their prayers would break through and I would feel the weight again. That heaviness that felt like it was going to take my breath away would come and all I could do was cry. I didn’t even know why, but I would cry. Then I would get up, shake it off, and go to class. I enjoyed the attention from the guys. I had no boundaries. I didn’t care what people thought was right or wrong. I just did what I wanted to do and what made me feel good. My moral code at the time was all based off of what I wanted and as long as I looked good on the outside, I was good to go. When I chose not to keep the baby I became pregnant with when I was barely 19, I only cared about me. I didn’t care about anyone else, just me. I wanted me to look good. I wanted me to have honor. I was swallowed up in pride. And my only truth I clung to was what I had made it to be out of the lies believed.
I was 6 weeks along. I remember lying to my coworkers to get a weekend off work. I went to Indianapolis. I walked past someone holding a sign. I heard them say, “This place isn’t safe for you.” What the heck did that mean to me? Nothing. It meant nothing because I was deceived. I walked through the hallways. I think there was an elevator. I sat in the crowded waiting room. I tried to watch the TV. It was some talk show host. I didn’t care. I remember just wanting to leave my body. My skin was crawling and I just wanted everything to be over and back to normal. I remember them calling my name. I remember signing a paper. I remember walking into a very small room and I remember the ultrasound. I remember the nurse turning the screen away from me so I couldn’t see it. I remember walking into another room. I remember reading the infographic signs on the wall. I remember sitting in a chair across from someone who was important. They gave me a pill to take. The pill would induce a miscarriage. I would have to take the other pills later.
I remember we stayed with a friend who lived with two gay guys. They were pretty nice. They were funny, too. They were there to support me in my decision. They accepted me. When I complained about a headache, one of them whipped out an ibuprofen bottle and offered me some pain medications. The pills were all different colors and I remember him saying not to take one of the colored ones. I remember pain. I remember heartache that I hadn’t felt before. I remember not knowing why I was feeling the way I was feeling. I remember finding comfort in food. I remember looking through the blood of the miscarriage wondering if I would see an actual baby. I didn’t. I cried. I was miserable. And I felt so alone.
The darkness just seemed to swallow me after that. I gave in to whatever felt good. I became numb to everything around me. I dove into my studies. I dove into work. My son spent a lot of time in daycare. Everything seemed to look good on the outside. But inside, I was dead. I craved life and didn’t even know it. I thought I’d find it in a man. I thought I’d find it in honor. I thought I’d find it when my life was all put together the way I wanted it to be. I didn’t just have a hole in my heart. I lived in that hole. It’s like you’re in a place where it feels like you’re falling and you’re worried about what will happen when you hit rock bottom? I found comfort knowing that at least when I hit bottom I would feel something. Anything other than what I felt then would bring relief.
A friend invited me to a Christmas party. It was a church thing. I didn’t really want to go, but honestly, I never turned down a party. After all, maybe I could’ve met Mr. Right. I went to the party. It seemed like every guy that introduced himself to me introduced me to his wife. (The Holy Spirit has a way of setting everything up for us to meet him.) I felt love. I felt acceptance. And more than that, I felt the presence of God. There was a guy with a guitar singing his heart out to the Lord. I remember sitting on the floor next to my friend. I remember them passing me the kleenexes when I started crying. I remember not knowing why I was crying. I remember them acting like it was normal. I remember hearing the testimony of a lady who had beat breast cancer. I remember them playing with my son. I remember laughter. I remember spaghetti. Lots and lots of spaghetti. I remember hearing testimonies about people who had gone to see the new movie, “The Passion.” I remember wondering how they felt that way about a man they’d never met. Then I remember feeling drawn to give myself to whatever they had. I remember being able to finally breathe.
I remember the first taste of freedom I had when the Lord saved me. I remember the ‘yes’ He gave me in my heart to believe that Jesus really did die and he really did rise from the grave. I remember confessing everything I had ever done wrong and not even knowing what repentance was. I was baptized in January, 2004. I remember when I was on my way I found out that I wasn’t baptizing my son, but it was me that was going to be baptized. I remember being ready. I remember the weight that came off of me. I remember the words prophesied over me afterwards. I remember people hugging me and clapping for me and calling me a sister, calling me a daughter. I remember not wanting to leave that church building. I remember the freedom I felt when I heard the Lord’s voice. I remember wondering if it was actually audible. I remember weeks later attending a conference and telling Him that I want to surrender to Him, but I have done too many things wrong and he said, “Give them to me.” I remember falling down under the presence of the Lord. I remember laughing. I remember the joy. I remember learning how to wave a flag and wondering how high I should raise my hands. I remember lots of time at the altar. I remember it all like it was yesterday. That’s what life does to you. You remember it.
It took a long time for the Lord to heal my heart. Sometimes we hear testimonies and we expect things to happen all at once, but really, most of the time, the Lord heals our hearts in layers. It’s like peeling an onion. This layer is taken away. Tears. The next layer is taken away. Tears. I had a lot of tears. Sad tears, happy tears, tears that did some praying for me, too, when I couldn’t find the right words. I remember the pain that tried to come back in my heart when my husband and I suffered the loss of a pregnancy a few years ago. I remember the battle I had in my mind when I clung to knowing the Lord’s goodness through it all. I remember the vision He gave me of the two angels carrying me through the refining fire. In the vision I saw my body turn to gold.
That’s what the Holy Spirit does. He heals. He restores. He breathes life into dead things. He makes all things new. He comforts. He listens. He is with us always until the end. He leads men to Jesus. He leads them to the Father. He breaks through the deception. He breaks through all the lies. He brings light into dark places. He makes things better than they were before. For years I have kept it hidden from most of my friends that I went through such a dark time in my life. I constantly worried about how my kids would feel when they would find out. I was sure that someday I would tell them. I’m told my oldest this afternoon. He is almost 15, now. He loves the Lord. All my children do. I’ll wait for the right time to tell the little ones.
I have grown in the knowledge of God throughout the last 11 years of knowing Him and I will continue to grow in the knowledge of who He is for all of eternity. I could go on wishing that my story wouldn’t end like it did, but the thing is, God is writing the rest of my story. And the chapters that were written before I knew Him, well, they were the dead me. The new chapters are of the new, alive me. And the new, alive me has some things to say.
First of all, Jesus is the answer. To whatever the question is, He is the answer. He alone is God. He alone is wise. He alone has the knowledge and wisdom to fix all the wrong things that are broken. It’s easy to get caught up on all the issues of life, but we have to know that we can’t just clean the outside of the cup. You can look good on the outside, but if you’re dying on the inside, Jesus is the answer. If you’ve felt like you’re falling in a deep hole, Jesus is the answer. He wants to heal you, deliver you, save you, honor you, glorify you, sanctify you, and rejoice in you. Jesus is the answer. He’s the answer to every. single. problem. in. our. world.
Secondly, there is now therefore no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus. Be careful the words you choose when you fight your battles on social media. You never know who you might be talking to. You never know the stories behind the people. You don’t know their pain. If you’ve experienced freedom in Christ, don’t forget those who haven’t. And love them. For crying out loud, love them. Love them enough to tell them the truth in love. Love them enough to quit looking on the outside and start searching for the gold on the inside of these people. Quit trying to shame people away from sin. Remember, without the Word of the Lord bringing absolute truth, people cling to their own moral codes. Honor people enough to let them hear the Word of the Lord for themselves. Be a host for the presence of God so that people experience the weighty presence when they are with you. You have to have something they want, not just know about it.
Finally, rise up and shine. People want love. They want comfort. They want to belong. They want to see something real. Let them see it in you. The comfort I felt when I felt like I belonged when I walked through that dark season in my life was just a counterfeit of the comfort I feel now because of what Jesus did. Instead of harsh judgment, love people. Bless people. Show them who God really is. Yes, your heart may be breaking when you read stories on the internet about selling intact fetal tissue. I know mine did. I’ve cried a lot today. It hurts because it breaks God’s heart, too. But He has the answer to all of those things that break your heart. He’s given us Jesus. Sex trafficking? Jesus. Slavery? Jesus. Poverty? Jesus. Broken families? Jesus. Divorce? Jesus. Abortion? Jesus. It’s always been Jesus. It will always be Jesus.
In light of everything going on right now, the cry of the real Church is this: “Even so, come.” The real Church will rise up and the real Church will pray for Jesus to come and break in. Don’t stray from the narrow road, cling to Jesus. Pray to Jesus. Lean on Jesus. Trust in Jesus. Hear His voice. Believe His words. And do what He says. Speak what He speaks. Love who He loves. Let Him write your story.
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