My Testimony Part I: How I Would Be Gone Right Now But God...

Have you ever dealt with anything for so long to the point you wanted to end it all? I have. From 8th grade to 12th grade, depression had such a hold on me. I was so unhappy with life I didn’t want it anymore. Then something happened: I’m introduced to Jesus. This is my Christian testimony.

Religion as a child

The first time I heard about Heaven was from my paternal grandmother, around the age of 4-6 years. I don’t remember what she told me only the imagery in my head stuck as she spoke. She said there would be animals living with us in Heaven.

So I imagined Heaven filled with animals and decided I was going to have a pet panda there.

I was not brought up in a religious household. I remember going to Mass sitting in the pews and flipping through hymnal books. Sometimes there were illustrations. I always looked for those. I loved looking at the beautiful ceiling, the decorations. And the depictions of Jesus carrying and dying on the cross (even though I didn't know what was happening).

I noticed and observed many things. I didn’t understand any of it nor was anything explained to me. Yet, I never asked any questions either.

My first time praying was for my maternal grandmother who was ill at the time. I was in Mass one day asking God to please make her better. She was a devout Catholic. Whenever I would visit Mexico I’d see her outside every night praying her rosary. I would sit next to her in silence as she prayed.

Looking back now I realized both my grandmothers made a small impact. One gave me something eternal to look forward to and the other made me reliant on God.

Religion as a teen

My childhood was beyond amazing. But going into my teens? These years were tough, brutal even. Due to my parents separating, getting back together, then separating again I did a lot of moving.

I didn’t adjust well. Eighth grade was when it all began, my depression. It was beyond difficult for me to make and keep friends. And I was alone 80% of the time. I made friends with outcasts and became a mild “emo” kid. I cringe having to admit that but it’s the truth.

The people I did surround myself with were not the best influence. And because of that I would cuss, listen to questionable music, and hated the world and everyone in it. It was like that for the next couple of years.

The crying spells were the worst. I would always be crying in secret. Overwhelmed with sadness and being unhappy with my life became normal.

Church didn’t do anything for me. My mom attempted to make my sisters and me official Catholics per my grandmother’s last request. It never worked out. But every night before going to sleep, I would pray even though I didn’t know who I was praying to.

I still considered myself a Catholic- knowing full when I was a fraud. Meanwhile, I developed a disdain for non-Catholic Christians.

My darkest time

I got to a low, low point in my life where I didn’t want to live anymore. I made plans to put an end to it. I was in 10th grade at 16 years old.

Now, I won’t reveal my method of choice because it is irrelevant. The point is, I tried to end my life not knowing my true worth in life. Not knowing I had a Saviour who already died for me.

There were several attempts. I would go to bed every night hoping, expecting not to wake up in the morning. Crying, I even begged God to let me die. Can you believe that? My God, who takes “no pleasure in the death of anyone (Ezekiel 18:32),“ was being asked this.

On those awful nights, I would wake up gasping for breath. I know now that was the Holy Spirit was breathing life back into me. I’m grateful for that every day.

It’s clear I didn’t know Scripture. It’s clear I didn’t know God. And if I did, I would not have been in that situation. But God, my merciful, loving, Heavenly Father let His will be done. He let me live.

The scariest part of it all is I didn’t have a personal relationship with Jesus. I would have been on my way to Hell. I would be in Hell right now.

Since my attempts were failing, I decided to put my plans on hold and continue living. Though I wasn’t living because my feelings didn’t change and depression wouldn’t leave me. I carried on like a zombie. Somewhat alive but not living.

To read the rest of my testimony click here to read part two (it gets better).