So there I was. After two months of self pity and self abuse. I sat there, alone, and asked myself repeatedly. Who are you? Why are you even here? Is anybody out there? All the questions that make you seem so small. I questioned everything and everyone. There’s no one to trust, I thought. I wandered through everyday as if it were the same day over and over. I surrounded myself with family and friends just to feel normal once and awhile. Put my fake face on and pretended that everything was alright. But it wasn’t. I wasn’t okay and nothing was alright. Who knows what would have become of me if God didn’t come to save me.
Backstory
For those of you who know me well, know that I was raised with Catholic traditions. Church nearly every Sunday morning, Bible study, and completion of the sacraments: Baptism, Confession, Communion, up to Confirmation. I followed the path step-by-step checking off every mark. Telling you all of that would probably make you believe that I know tons of scripture, all the different events of the Bible, prayers daily, and all of that good stuff; but to be completely honest I was still as far from God as anyone. I believed in a God, of some sorts, yes, but never really had faith in one. Now I’m not trying to bash the Catholic faith by any means, but I’m just being honest- it didn’t work for me. Not once did I feel the love and presence of God. I would walk into Church, sometimes hungover (don’t act like I’m the only one), with my fancy dress clothes on. Smile, shake some hands, kneel, sit, fall asleep, receive communion, and take nothing away from the message. It almost seemed to be the same every single time I went. I became Catholic because of my parents, of course, not by choice. I absolutely love my parents and appreciate them for exposing me to their beliefs, but at some point we all have to figure things out on our own. I think it’s just part of becoming your own man/woman.
Lost and Found
A man completely conflicted. No direction. No dreams. Before joining, I thought the Army would give me a sense of purpose by filling the void within me. It really just caused more confusion and it wasn’t a good fit. The only thing that made me a good soldier was being a hard worker. Other than that I never felt that I belonged. One failure led to another- I became more and more lost. Drinking every night, popping antidepressants, and isolated with the darkness of my mind. Let me tell you what, those do not mix well. I was on a path of self-destruction.
At this point, it’s around January 2016 and I’m still fighting. Grabbing onto anything that will keep me above the surface. One day, something tells me to look for a church to start attending, hoping to get my life back on track. Coming from a Catholic background, many would presume that I would look for a Catholic Church but I didn’t. Instead, wanting something different, I chose to experiment and began looking for a Non-denominational Church. Now, there are 600 different churches within the DC area alone. 49 Catholic and 74 Non-denominational. All within a 15 mile radius. With so many to choose from I decided to go to a place called DC Metro; which was about 5 miles from my apartment. At this point in time, I still didn’t have a car so I would travel by using the metro system that ran close by.
Reborn
So on the first Sunday I decide to go, I start by walking to the Pentagon City Station, get onto the Yellow line towards Huntington, and get off at Braddock Road Station. I walk a few blocks and find myself at the front door. I walk in, looking lost, and examine this whole new world, then find my way to the very back row.
The worship songs were beautiful and had this power to touch my soul. Each week the message spoke to me; healing and reassuring me that I can make it through this. I cried in that back row every time I was there for the first month.
side note: I tend to keep to myself most of the time. I don’t consider myself to be a very outgoing, social person. If I go into a place where I do not know anyone, chances are, I will not talk to any of them. The only time I will talk to a stranger, is if they talk to me first. It’s just the way I am.
After each message, the church offers a time to pray with others. I was so scared to go up but I knew I had to. So, I walk up and tell the older woman what I was facing. She brings another man over to pray with me and I find myself crying with complete strangers. It was as if the pain was being forced out of my body. The whole moment was completely ethereal. I had never experience anything like it before. But of course it wasn’t gone just like that. The pain still lingered within me.
The next week was more of the same. Took the metro, I found my seat in the back, and got myself ready for what the message had to offer. Right before the service, a man approaches me and introduces himself, “Hey, my name is Nahum. You been coming here long?”
“Hey, I’m Jonas. Um, not long. Just a little over a month.” I respond.
“Oh alright, nice. Well, it’s nice to meet you Jonas!” The service begins and ends and we exit the building together. “So my friends and I do a worship group on Wednesday nights at 7PM. Would you like to join us?” He asks.
“Um, yeah sure. I’ll come check it out.”
“Okay cool! See you then!” He responds. I show up to the church as usual. Find my way through the empty halls, to see the group singing together. We sing and pray together. It was nice- and different. Nahum and I exit the building together once again.“Where’s your car?” He asks.
“I took the metro here.”
“Oh, well you wanna ride home?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” I respond.
We walk to his car as I tell him where I live. I get into his white 2015 Ford Mustang and we head towards my place. We get to know each other a little better but I mostly keep to myself throughout the ride. He pulls up the the front of my apartment, stops, and says, “Ya know Jonas, I can’t help this feeling that God wants me to tell you something. I just feel that you are going through something difficult and he wants me to pray with you. Is that okay?”
I’m completely bewildered at this point as to how he would know that. I pull my thoughts together and respond, “Yes.” He places his hand on my shoulder and we begin to pray. Every word he says is perfect, but the whole time I’m thinking, How? He finishes and I say, “Thank you. I…I don’t really know what to say. I just really needed that. Thank you.”
I continued going to that church, sitting near the front, until I moved. Until this day, I never seen Nahum or talked to him again and he is still the only person I have ever really met and talked to from any church.
Aftermath
After that moment, I have never really been the same. I gave my life to God and he has completely turned my life around. Out of the one million people in that small area, it’s hard to believe that he took the time to come and save me. But why? Why me? I may never know but it’s all part of his plan. Today, I still put all of my faith in God and he hasn’t let me down. I do my best to follow him but I still struggle on a daily basis. He knows that we will never be perfect, but the constant fight to become perfect, is all he ever asks for.
If you have made it this far, thank you for reading my testimony. If you have any questions please feel free to ask. I plan to write more posts about my faith and beliefs in the future, so stay in touch if you are interested.
10 “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast.” 1 Peter 5:10 NIV