Faith

My faith is anchored in the Lord Jesus Christ, a profound connection that has transformed my life in ways words can scarcely express. Even during the times I didn’t fully understand Him, I always believed in the existence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yet, my faith felt somewhat superficial, as I never truly sought to build a relationship with Him. If I could return to those days with the knowledge I have now, I would have pursued Him fervently, refusing to rest until I found Him.

Throughout my life, there have been countless moments when the darkness loomed so large that I considered ending it all. A persistent voice reminded me that something essential was missing, casting a shadow over my heart. This unsettling feeling crept into my life around the age of 12 or 13, lurking quietly but ever-present. Though there were fleeting moments of relief, I often found myself trapped in an abyss of despair—lonely, empty, and consumed by a sense of hopelessness.

In my childhood home, I was filled with a sense of strength and confidence, but moving to a new country shattered that sense of security. The kids my age were strikingly different; some openly dismissed me, projecting an air of superiority that left me feeling invisible. This experience forced me to become more guarded, meticulously choosing whom I allowed into my life. Simultaneously, I withdrew from my parents and sisters, feeling unable to share the turmoil brewing inside.

As I transitioned into adulthood, this emotional roller coaster became heavier, so overwhelming that I found myself believing my sole purpose was to endure misery for the sake of others’ happiness. I caught glimpses of joy reflected in those around me, but it seemed to elude me entirely, leaving me to wrestle with the unsettling reality of my own emotions.

There were many times when I considered ending my life, convinced the world held nothing for me but pain and that death might be the best escape. Yet, whenever the weight eased for a moment, I brushed those thoughts aside, and life went on. In that process, I made choices and mistakes I deeply regret—situations that were challenging but taught me valuable lessons. I acted selfishly, not fully grasping how much I was hurting my parents and those around me. I take pride in owning my faults and the guilt that weighed me down for so long, as it has shaped my journey.

One day, I took a stand. I decided I was done being a coward, and I was ready to confront my struggles, refusing to be defined by them. I knew I would never find that elusive “something missing,” and my search for meaning had to redirect. I chose a day that felt significant: my mother mentioned she and my sister would be going to the casino for the night. In that moment, I saw an opportunity for change. I wrote my letters and apologies, preparing myself for what was to come.

That summer day in 2007 arrived, and I woke up with a sense of relief. I knew my mom and sister would soon be gone, and I sensed the freedom to confront my pain. I completed my chores, took care of the pets, and locked myself in my room, waiting for the moment of transformation.

At last, they left, and it was time to move forward. But there was one last thing I needed to do: I called a dear friend, reminding myself not to share my plans because I knew he would try to help. We decided to meet for lunch, and I viewed it as a way to embrace a new beginning instead of a farewell. I chose to keep my struggle quiet, realizing that reaching out for support can lead to unexpected hope.

We met at one of our favorite restaurants, reminiscing about the past and discussing the present. Without meaning to, I revealed my plans, a spontaneous moment of vulnerability. He began sharing God’s word, and I listened, as his words always brought me comfort. In that instant, I asserted, “Not even you can stop me.” His expression turned somber as he spoke of God, a conversation that always uplifted my spirit.

After lunch, he walked me to my car, opening the driver’s door for me. Instead of saying goodbye and heading to his own vehicle, he approached the passenger side and opened the door. He didn’t get in but declared, “I did everything I could, I gave you the word, and I know God would not be angry with me. I leave you to God now.” I smiled and replied, “Okay,” as he walked away toward his car parked across the lot. In that moment, I quickly turned off my cellphone, anticipating a call that might deter me.

As I passed his car, I waved goodbye, and though he returned my gesture without a smile, I felt joy. I had that “goodbye” moment with him. Inside my car, I didn’t turn on the air conditioning or the CD player, which usually filled my ride with music. Instead, I noticed the beauty of the day—the sun shining brightly yet comfortably. The sky held a unique brilliance that stirred something within me.

Approaching the exit, I thought, “Oh great, I’ll probably get the red light at the main intersection.” Sure enough, the light turned red, and irritation bubbled up as it turned green twice for the other direction while mine remained red. I contemplated switching lanes to bypass the signal, believing it might be malfunctioning. Then I heard a distant yet clear voice, asking, “Why do you want to kill yourself?” The simplicity of the question struck me deeply. I sat in silence, searching for the source of the voice. Instead of fear, I found myself reflecting on that profound question.

When the light turned green, I drove toward home but, still intrigued, pulled into a convenience store parking lot. I called my friend, but he didn’t answer. After a moment, I called again, unable to contain my thoughts about what had happened. When he picked up, he rejoiced, saying, “Praise the Lord,” and at that instant, the desire to end my life faded away. We decided to meet at the park, and he even left work early,  prioritizing my well-being over returning home.

I drove twenty minutes to the park, sharing laughter and stories with him. After recounting my experience again, he expressed gratitude to God, and our conversation shifted to our usual lighthearted banter, reconnecting as if I had never left our city.

That night, at home, I tore up my goodbye letters and discarded the pills I had intended to take, resuming my nightly routine while waiting for my mom and sister to return. God intervened that day! Had He not, I would have faced a different destiny. Standing in His Presence would have meant judgment rather than entry into Heaven. How could I not have faith in my Lord? This moment stands as just one of countless times He has intervened in my life. Thank You, Lord.