I didn’t choose God like picking a book off a shelf. Faith wasn’t a decision I mulled over—it was a lifeline I grabbed when the darkness of my soul nearly swallowed me whole. This is my story: three cries from a broken life, answered by one grace that remade me. It’s not neat, but it’s real—and if you’re searching for purpose, it’s for you too.
The Void That Defined Me
A gnawing emptiness shadowed me from the start. Childhood wasn’t a warm memory—it was a jagged edge, a void nothing could fill. Hobbies fizzled, distractions faded, and the world seemed to spit me out like Jonah from the whale. Schools branded me hopeless, a lost cause not worth the effort. Church folks tried to reel me in, but their Sunday smiles turned hollow by Monday—I saw the masks. Oddly, I found more truth among unbelievers, rough souls who didn’t judge me like the “righteous” did. Still, I was a misfit, adrift in a life that had no slot for me. Sin’s weight grew, a stranglehold tightening, and I teetered on the edge—ready to end it all.
The Light That Found Me
Then an accident pinned me down—bedridden, trapped, with nothing but time and a sealed Gideon’s Bible on the shelf. Curiosity cracked it open, and I tore into it like a starved man, devouring every page. The Gospels hit hardest, but I didn’t have some grand epiphany—not yet. I just ate, clueless, while God’s Word sank deep, an incorruptible seed (1 Peter 1:23). Days later, it broke loose: a heavenly shift—peace flooded in, the kind Jesus promised, “My peace I give unto you” (John 14:27). Joy surged, and my old crutches—cigarettes, alcohol, filthy words—turned sour. I didn’t pray a formula; grace crashed in unbidden, remaking me from the core.
That’s when I knew why I believe. He’s the light of all humanity (John 1:4), a brilliance only the broken can truly see. In my abyss, that light pierced through—not random, but personal, as if I’d been chosen, predestined for rescue (Eph. 1:4-5). It was God’s goodness, His grace, shattering my despair like dawn through a storm. I was famished, crushed by sin’s burden, and like a dying man lunging for bread, I grabbed it—the life I couldn’t conjure. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8), and I did. I tasted Him, and I’m changed forever.
The Cry That Birthed Me Anew
The shadows didn’t just weigh me down—they crushed me open. Weeping, I’d whisper, “Somebody help me!”—a plea from a soul collapsing under sin. That’s when the Father drew me (John 6:44). Jesus, the Great Physician, came for the brokenhearted (Luke 4:18), and my cry stirred His compassion. I wasn’t righteous or polished—I was a wreck, a child begging. The proud don’t need a Savior, but I did. He heard me, pulling me from the wreckage of my chaos.
Friends saw it: “This isn’t Bob.” The old me—ringleader of ruin—vanished. Those who thrived on my darkness ditched me; one called me a “good chap” gone astray. They drifted off, but I wasn’t alone—I’d been born of God (John 1:13). How do you wrap that in words? With man, it’s impossible; with God, it’s a miracle. I thought this was just for me, a fluke for the few, but no—salvation’s for all (Titus 2:11). I loved the shadows until they broke me. Jesus knocks on every heart (Rev. 3:20)—mine, yours, everyone’s. I was lost, now I’m found—because of Him.
A Call to the Searching
This isn’t a fairy tale for the chosen few—it’s a lifeline for the wrecked. If you feel that void, if darkness chokes you, cry out. Crack open His Word, taste His goodness. He’s the Life of man, the Physician who heals, and He’s still reaching today. Three cries—despair, discovery, deliverance—led me to one grace. Will you let Him in?