Losing faith in God… that was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever felt. Not because He left me—but because I left Him. I turned my back on the very hand that had always held me.

Depression clouded my mind. It wrapped around me like a heavy fog, drowning the light I once felt in my chest. I misled myself, strayed from the trail God had carefully laid out for me, a path meant to guide me home. I could not see it then, but I feel it now—the love that was patient, even when I was not.

I turned to escape. ****. Alcohol. Distractions that whispered promises of relief but delivered only emptiness. I ran from reality, from pain, from truth, from myself. I was a coward. Too afraid to confront the darkness within me. Too scared to face the brokenness I had been avoiding for so long.

I started to doubt His abilities. I questioned Him. If You are God, why am I still in pain? Why am I still suffering? I was fifteen then. I didn’t know what I was saying or doing. I became rebellious, lost in confusion, disconnected from the things I once loved. Poetry, my refuge, my therapy, became my only voice, my only way to breathe.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” And yet, I ignored it. I thought I could save myself. I thought I could numb the ache. I thought I could find solace in anything but Him. But every escape left a hollow echo, a reminder that I had strayed.

And then… slowly, mercifully, God found me again. I knelt. I cried. I poured my heart out, asking for forgiveness for all the ways I had turned away. I realized that He is merciful. He is loving. He saves, not because we deserve it, but because His grace is boundless. He was crucified for us, to give us life, to give us hope, to give us salvation.

Romans 8:38-39 says, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Even in my blindness, even in my rebellion, even in my pain… His love never left. It was relentless, reckless in its mercy, fearless in its pursuit. I am learning to walk again. To face my fears. To embrace my brokenness. To trust Him, fully and unreservedly.

And now, I hold onto Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Even in my darkest moments, even when I thought I was too far gone, He had a plan. He saved me, He forgave me, and He continues to guide me home.

Lust consumed me. Like ink from a tattoo etched deep into my skin, it stained me, marked me, made me feel trapped in my own darkness. I was addicted—not just to the fleeting pleasure, but to the escape, to the illusion that I could numb the pain and silence the shame.

But by His blood, my sins were washed away. Redeemed. Cleaned. I was given a chance to rise from the ashes of my rebellion, my brokenness, my lost years.

1 John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” And so I confessed. I cried. I kneeled. I let Him into every corner of my heart I had tried to hide. And His mercy did not fail me.

Like the prodigal son, I returned. “He was lost and is found.”

I was lost. I was broken. I was stained. But when I came back to Him, when I truly surrendered, I was found. Forgiven. Redeemed. Loved beyond measure.

And now, I walk in His light. Every step, a reminder that no darkness is too deep, no shame too heavy, no sin too great to be covered by His blood