I started my writing journey to share my story, so others can see there is a better way of living, and they aren’t alone in their fight to survive.
I want them to know love without violence or degradation, and show them they can live without their abusive partner, and find peace within themselves.
I want them to know I understand their battles with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or whatever mental illness they struggle with daily.
I want to show them they can break free from drug addiction.
I want to share how no-strings-attached sexual affection from men and women won’t fill the gaping, wounded hole in their hearts, but only leave them feeling more unloved, and sick of themselves.
I want to show them how to love themselves and become their own best friend.
I set out to share my story with the overall hope of making a difference.
But along the way, I became fearful.
My biggest fear in all this was running people off without them seeing they have someone in this world who can relate to them. I have said for the longest time that I wanted my writings to reach the lost, abandoned, broken, sick, suffering, and hopeless. I wanted to help lead them out of the darkness of their struggles and into the light where they can experience the freedom and peace I have found. And I wanted to do all this without mentioning the one person who made all the difference my life.
It’s a sad day and time when the name of Jesus is synonymous with hate, judgement, and condemnation instead of love, acceptance, and kindness. The word “Christian” no longer makes people curious about the faith. Instead, it conjures up feelings of anger and disgust.
After I left the church and turned away from my upbringing, hearing someone say “Jesus” absolutely repulsed me. I equated it with fools who used their religion to oppress and control others. (Obviously, I still think many Christians do this.) If anyone tried to talk with me about Jesus, I scoffed and closed my ears, eyes, and heart. Most didn’t talk TO me, but AT me about my need to “repent or face condemnation.” If you didn’t already know, Bible beating, and demanding everyone live a certain way does NOT work. You can’t hold non-Christians to Christians standards.
For those who have never been outside the faith, I wonder if you can understand. Maybe you have seen how the hearts of mankind have twisted God to meet their own needs, and you too are heartbroken, angry, or fearful.
It took MANY years, MANY steps, and MANY events for me to find the TRUE Jesus—the one who loves me just as I am. This did not happen overnight, and it certainly didn’t happen through being pressured or threatened with hellfire and brimstone. My journey contained numerous difficulties, and I weaved through belief and unbelief countless times. But I have been afraid to share all this in case I ran off readers at the mere mention of Jesus’ name, before they could hear the message of love and acceptance.
I thought I could share my story, gather readers and followers, and change their lives from the inside out, without mentioning Jesus at all, but still by extending his love to others. I was convinced I could do it.
But while taking a break over the past few weeks, I discovered that I was actually HIDING Jesus. Yeshua. My Love. My Light. Lover of my Soul. Healer of my Scars. The one who saved me from myself. How could I shine light on him by hiding The Light that burns within me? Why did I think that would work?
Fear. I have let fear take control of me. At one point I thought I was fearless, but somehow, I let it creep and settle in and make itself at home within me. I’m hoping—no, I know—as I continue healing, I will become fearless once again.
To be continued…
Thanks for reading, lovelies.