Finding God Unexpectedly

How a young woman found God during a low time in her life.

I gave myself a moment to calm down. Then I made the strenuous hike upstairs.  I grasped the railing tightly to keep from collapsing. I felt so torn and confused.  I wanted my own life, and yet, I felt entrapped and manipulated by my roommate. Since the day we first met, I signed my death sentence.  I felt guilty for hanging out with other people.  I believed her lies that my family didn’t love me the way she did. I saw that she needed help, but she wasn’t willing to make any changes in her life.  The more I tried to help her, the sicker and weaker I became.

Within two years, I was like a walking skeleton. I had lost nearly 40 pounds, struggled with anger, anxiety, and feelings of loneliness. I felt like my parents, God and my church were against me. I was alone.


As I lay there, trapped in my roommates arms, fear gripped my heart.  I know Mom is going to call anytime now.


“I’m not going. Why should I?”  Why should I give up my life to attend some week-long seminar?  

4:30 a.m.…The phone rings….

“I don’t know, Mom. It won’t work. There’s no hope anyway.”  At least a decision hadn’t been made yet.  I still have time to get out of it.

I didn’t dare tell my mom that just the night before I had passed out due to lack of nutrition.


Throughout the evening, I tossed and turned, anticipating Mom’s call every few hours.  
Tick…tick…tick…6:30 a.m., Mom and Dad pull up to my house. There was no escape. As my roommate opened the door, I raced behind my door to hide.


“Don’t touch me.  Get your hands off of me.  I don’t want to go.” I thought for sure that my parents had come to take me away to a mental institution. 

Two hours later, I reluctantly stepped into the car convinced I was about to die. 

When we arrived at the church we walked in the door where we were greeted by friendly smiles and welcomes. I returned their friendly smiles with a scowl. The love caused me to cringe with shame. 

Throughout that week, I found a cozy corner in the church and sat there by myself.  I wasn’t interested in Jesus or people. I had reached a place of complete hopelessness.  I grudgingly attended the daily classes, but expected no positive results. By the fourth day, however, something started to shift.  It was a Thursday evening and everyone had gathered outside in preparation for the baptism.  I stood off to the side, trying to avoid my mom.  Then I felt this urge to step forward.  Should I go and be baptized?

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