I have never attended a bible study group, nor have I been to church. My
parents are not Christians, in fact, no one in my family is. I used to
be an atheist. A firm believer in an empty heaven. Surrounded by what I
thought was reason, logic and rationality.
I thought I was
tolerant, educated, respectful. In reality I most certainty was not. I
expected people to respect me when I could not respect those who
disagreed with me. Hypocrisy, double standards, arrogance, all were
specialities of mine. I jeered, I mocked, insulted, attacked.
And
worst of all I blasphemed.
I thought, why can people believe in
some autocratic deity? I thought that those people are stupid, that they
deserve to be belittled. My motto was, "Everyone is equal. Except you.
And you and you and you et cetera et cetera."
I was a person of
prejudice. Worst of all, a person of hate.
Depression and self
harm are part of my life. I never had any real friends. I was very
lonely, an introvert. The death of my grandparents hit me hard. I wanted
to do well at school and I would push myself, punish myself if
necessary. I didn't have anyone to talk to, reach out to, all I did was
spiral down into myself not once being brave enough to admit that I
needed help. I thought asking for help meant that you're weak, when
really calling out and asking is strong. It takes a strong person to
admit that they can't do it alone. It took me a long time to reach this
conclusion.
I still remember that night. Alone in my bedroom with
as many pills as I could find. One by one I swallowed, willing myself
on, encouraging the chemicals to hurt rather than heal. The only word I
cared about was "overdose" because it carried with it death. I had given
up. Stopped caring. "There is no point and no hope", I kept muttering.
Yet I didn't feel alone.
Was it the comforting embrace of
finally ending it? No, it was the exact opposite. Still to this day I
have not found the words to describe what I felt. All the superlatives
and adjectives of the English language cannot describe what I felt.
Love. God's love.
Something said, "Not yet, it's too soon."
Something pushed me back. I listened and didn't resist. This is the
beginning of my realisation, my revelation, my redemption.
At the
time I didn't know what it was, I just clung to it, desperately grasping
onto what I had thought I'd lost forever. Hope.
Two years later I
know now what I felt, what actually happened. It's been tough,
challenging, overwhelming and ultimately amazing. Suddenly I was
questioning all I had believed before. I asked: is there a God? Who
really is Jesus Christ? Am I actually completely wrong?
Finding
out you've been wrong for the whole of your life is hard to swallow. I
admit, I didn't immediately accept this fact readily. I often think
about what happened in a metaphor, one I've never told anyone before. I
think of myself being led to the gallows and that my resistance to the
truth, the truth which would have never led me there, is just a
hangman's dance. Fruitless, desperate, weak. The only way to be saved is
to ask for the rope to be cut.
And I did.
I found out
about Jesus, about God, about the Bible. I explored, investigated, I
began to fall in love with God. I didn't realise at first but I was
taking my first humble steps towards God, the first steps on the right
path. And who is there on this path I now try to tread? Jesus Christ.
I don't know anyone who is a Christian. The path to here has been
one with just me and Jesus Christ.
I understand now. I accept Him
now. I'm ready to have Him as the guide and light of my life. He has
cleansed me and washed away my sins.
My Lord Jesus Christ has
built me and restored me to life. I now try to reach where His finger
points.
I still have problems with depression and self harm. The
difference between the old me and the new, is that I ask for help. I
pray. I believe. I know it'll get better.
And I love God and His
only begotten son, Jesus Christ.
God bless,
Caitlin
Kitchner