Testimony. That’s a word I never really understood, and I also never understood why it’s so important to hear another person’s story, their commitment to Jesus.
Really, I wasn’t much of a religion fan so I wasn’t too keen on listening anyways.
But I allowed myself to be dragged to church a few months ago and found an entire building filled with others who aren’t fans of religion either.
They’re fans of changing the world.
So my heart started softening and I started doing a little more praying, and I actually started to see my life as a conduit for love and goodness that could potentially save another person’s life.
I let go and let God, as they say.
And then something strange happened. The anxiety I’ve had since I was five just up and disappeared. I no longer had my depressive episodes, the night terrors where I spun out of my body and literally felt a terrifying presence with me in the room, telling me all sorts of vicious things. I no longer woke up wanting to kill myself and feeling like a failure as a wife and mother because all I wanted to do was disappear.
I know love now. And no, I’m not perfect, but my soul feels that way. I wake up now with a peaceful joy like a veil’s been lifted off my eyes, and I can actually see through the darkness that used to suffocate me.
Maybe this makes sense. Maybe it doesn’t. All I know is that it’s my truth, and I finally understand the importance of sharing it.
I no longer lament the darkness that tortured me, especially if it can be used to heal another person’s heart.
If you want to learn more about my story or would like to share yours, please contact me.