God Saved Me

God saved me.

I know that, to some people, that statement sounds incredibly stupid. There are people out there who think that He doesn’t exist, that He could never exist. Then there are the people who believe in Him but hate Him because of the tragedies that they’ve been through in their life, because of the people they’ve lost or the things that they’ve seen. I used to be both of those people. That probably doesn’t make sense because how could I be both people? Well, I was both people, regardless of the logic.

There are two things I used to believe. One was that God didn’t exist & that He was this imaginary friend that desperate people made up because they were searching for something to believe in. He wasn’t there, there was no God, & there couldn’t ever possibly be. I believed that the Bible was created by flawed men, and that it was all lies to control stupid people with. There was no God, there were just people that hoped there was.

My other belief was that God was there, He existed, but that He must absolutely hate humanity. I used to turn on the news and see all of the people dying from natural disasters, diseases, serial killers, mass shootings, etc. I thought of the people (some of which were children) that were laying in hospital beds all over the world riddled with cancer, begging for the pain to stop, begging for it all to end, questioning why they weren’t good enough to be healthy. I saw hurricanes and tornadoes on television that destroyed peoples’ homes, killed animals and children and everything that this God said He loved.

And then I looked in the mirror at myself, track marks on my arms, bags under my eyes. I thought about my life, about how my daughter was going to be taken away from me, that I didn’t have a bed to sleep in, that I had to steal from everyone and anyone. I was infected by a disease, a disease that has no sympathy; addiction. I was full of mental illness. And I knew that I did this to myself, but I wondered why this God wouldn’t help me. I didn’t know that it was going to get that bad in the beginning. I remember thinking that He was sitting up there in Heaven or whatever, staring down at me from His big comfortable throne, and He was laughing at me.

I hated Him. With everything inside of me, I hated Him. 

When I went through my recovery for the third time, though, I was surrounded by people who loved this God. I questioned their beliefs in the beginning. “How could a loving God kill children? How could a loving God allow diseases and terrorism and every horrible thing that has happened to happen?!” I asked people this question, I screamed & shouted it inside of my head. I didn’t get an answer. I went to church with these people, these people who loved God and had a faith that could move mountains. I went to church week after week after week, confusion & doubt nearly drowning me.

And then I felt Him. 

It was an experience like no other, a feeling that is extremely hard to explain. It was as if I could feel God pulling my spirit out from my body & filling it with something I hadn’t felt in so long; hope. For months after this happened, I started getting deeper into the bible and memorizing scripture and studying the passages. I did it partly because it was part of the program & I had to, but also because I craved more of Him. I desperately wanted to be closer to God. 

Experiences similar to the first one started happening more frequently. I constantly heard His voice, I felt Him on a daily basis. He pushed me to stay strong, He comforted me, He told me how much He loved me, how much I was worth. He told me that I was His daughter & I was unique and beautiful and everything was going to be okay. He was by my side throughout my entire recovery. Things started to happen in my life. The relationships with the people that I love were being reconciled, I wasn’t craving heroin anymore, I was becoming…different. When I graduated from the program, I realized that He had been here for me the entire time, I just wasn’t listening. I was doing my own thing, and my own thing led me nearly to death.

I still have questions, I still wonder why the world is in the state that it is in. But I know that He has a reason and that He loves us. I don’t know why I was saved from addiction while thousands of people out there (some of them people that I love) died from it. I also don’t think that I will ever get the answers to any of it, that I will never know any of the reasons, but I think that I have to have faith regardless.

So, yeah. God saved me. And He can save you, too. You just have to listen.

 

 

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