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I grew up with the best intentions like every young child does: doe-eyed and hopeful about the world and wanting to “do the right thing”. I was raised Catholic where everyone rushes out in 40 minutes to get back to cooking, football, and whatever else they had on their minds before they walked into the doors of the cold and structured cathedral of the church we attended. There was no Spirit in the room guiding us to knowledge, no insightful message from the priest/pastor that rung true in our hearts to change our lives forever. I was also 6 – 12 years old when I attended, so maybe a small part of that encouraged my lack of understanding. Nonetheless, my concept of church and God was to “try to do the right thing, and maybe if you do enough you can get into Heaven… or at least purgatory to try to pray a little more for all the bad things you wish you didn’t do.” At the time, that didn’t seem too terribly hard or far from my capabilities of coming from an unbroken home on the corner lot of the “nice neighborhood” with the dog and dance trophies and the whole kit and caboodle.

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Well, all of that worked when life was easy. My bubble was crushed shortly after my 14th birthday when my parents separated and divorced due to infidelity and my father exited the picture. High school was a confusing time of toeing the line of good grades and partying at way too young of an age. A distraught and emotionally absent mother plus a completely absent father put me on a trajectory to “get out of Dodge” and go to college to put all this drama and trauma behind me. Because… well, I had it all together, right?

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I made it to the university and began studying hard with aspirations of medicine to help others who were hurting (probably to mask my own pain) and everything was great! I had it going on… until the man I was seeing since high school turned out to be a nest of deception and living with another woman. My thoughts then were, “I must cut you off too and keep the train moving because no one is going to hurt me or derail my dreams, and I am doing great.” College eventually became on the outside a beautiful mark of an independent young woman while the on the inside I was falling deeper down the rabbit hole of ungodly strongholds being laid in my path: one-night stands, seeing committed people, etc.

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Then I graduated college. Life felt beautiful. I’d finally let go of everything that held me down. The world was my oyster.

If my story has told you anything at this point, clearly, I was deluded.

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I met a man, full of mystery to me and began to see him casually until I was faced with the “I’m married” conversation. My 12-year-old, doe-eyed self would be screaming at me how I’m better than that and Don’t I know the rules?! and everything else anyone reading and hearing this would probably say too; but I was 10 years removed from that girl, navigating the broken world we live in, and leaning on my own power, my own feelings, my own truth. Everyone always thinks they would never be that person, until one day they end up in those shoes and not recognizing the person they see in the mirror.

So began a wilderness season of living far from righteousness, wandering in twisted doctrine and accepting the “love” I was given. I was lost, grinding my way through an extremely demanding (and successful) job while living a double life, because Heaven forbid that a single person knew what kind of morally wrong thing I was doing while trying to be the “good girl” and example for others on how to live their lives. Prayer was something I only did when days were really bad. For example: calling out from work because the depression and guilt of my life was so deep, but shortly after I would try to work my own way out of my issues, find crazy justifications for what I was doing, and just keep moving like I had learned to do for the second half of my life.

Then the pandemic happened. I lost my job. I was isolated from others due to the strict requirements, and I confused about the next step. I fell into a depressive state for a month or so and, after crying enough tears on my own, an idea of comfort fell into my mind to pick up my Bible and just read. So… I did.

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It was a small step at first—30 minutes the first day then 1 hour the next day—as the seed was being planted. Soon, I spent more than half the day in the Word, enthralled by the stories in the Old Testament of the sins and falls of mankind and how much God pursued them, how He was always there. Sometime after the confusion of intense readings and the ugly sobbing prayers of What do I do?, there He was. Jesus. Jesus met me in my mess. He through all of me—my sins and desire for His righteousness—and He put His arms around me. I literally felt His power and grace. I had a real encounter with the real God. For a week, I felt His Spirit moving in me and I found myself uttering Scripture had I only spent a few weeks reading, much less reciting. It finally made sense to me. There was no way I could be who I was again.

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Please, don’t think this was easy. Yes, it is a true and supernatural encounter that changes the course of our lives. My whole life had been based on intellect from my father who was an attorney to my pursuit of science where everything has an explanation and reason, so I was the biggest skeptic of a “spiritual encounter”. But guess what? I was not doing the work. He was doing the work for me, in me. His Word was the Better Word. His grace was so much more beautiful than the flawed human love I had accepted or the worldly accomplishments I bitterly grinded my knuckles to achieve. God accepted me. A sinner. He showered His Spirit and mercy and love on me, not because I did anything to deserve it but because that is who He really is.

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I left the sinful relationship. I signed the termination papers with my previous employer, and I gave it to God. I told myself, “It is you and me, Jesus, until the wheels fall off,” and shared everything with Him in my prayers. I put my full faith and trust in Him. Even with that encounter, it was still such a new and risky concept for me: to give up the control I fought so hard to maintain since I lost it at a young age. But God, y’all. He brought me financial blessing to assist me during the hard times when money wasn’t an option, much less tithing. He threw a man of God into my path that I wasn’t looking or desiring for at that time in my life, because He really is a good God and blesses those who follow Him. The healing of my past came not through my works, but by the Grace of God because of my faith. “… By grace you have been saved, through faith…” (Ephesians 2:8). It is real. He is real. And we can have a real relationship with Him.

My life has grown so much since I sought Him first and I am still learning how to fight against spiritual attacks, surrendering sins and worldly habits in my life, and trying to navigate this new reality of letting go of my control and letting God in. Even when things are difficult, I’m learning every day how to stop looking at myself to solve the problems and start asking more for Him to reveal His will to me, give me strength, and guide me to His wisdom in the wilderness.

As embarrassing as it is to share and admit the past that I allowed to mark me, I pray now that these words and my testimony will reach someone else who is living their own double life, completely lost and broken from relationships, navigating the scars of a broken home and absent father, or just never encountered God.

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