Here's my personal testimony.
So I was raised catholic, but things in my life always pulled me away from faith and God. My dad abused my mom until they got divorced when I was four. My stepbrother had the worst temper in the world, and was in juvenile detention home for a long while. My sister was raped, got pregnant and had an abortion. One of my friend's mom killed herself, and she herself got into witchcraft, and our friendship broke apart. Through all of this, I was able to bounce back. I was a lot like John Kerry actually, I was a flip flop. I would believe in God when things were good, and when something bad would happen I would give up on Him. However, The thing that most challenged my belief and confirmed it, was what happened with my brother.
My brother, Erik, was ADD and bipolar. When he went off to college, he added drugs and alcohol to that, which isn't a good combination. He dropped out and came home.
From then on, he was in and out of depression, jobs, rehabilitation centers, jails, and hospitals(psych ward.) He tried to kill himself three times, and each time, someone would get there just in time to help him. Somehow I always thought that he would be okay, no matter what. I would see him get better and I would think, '"this is it, he's going to be okay now" and every time, he would fall back down again. I remember discussing God with my dad and step mom when my brother was in a rehabilitation center. I told them that in order for me to believe in God, I needed a miracle. I said, "He needs to help Erik."
My brother was an amazing brother. He always looked out for me, and in fact, he once told me, " I will always look out for you in the crazy annoying way I do because you are the closest thing to a daughter that I will ever have."
Well, January twentieth this year, when my brother was under the care of rehabilitationers and psychologists , I got a call from my sister in the afternoon, saying he was missing. I went to bed that night, leaving a note for my mom on the table about the news and praying that "if there is a God, please keep him safe." I woke up that night to sobbing downstairs. I went down and all my siblings were there, all but one. And one of my brothers was leaning against the wall in the same way he did when I was told my grandpa died. I knew it before my mom told me. All she could do was put her hand on my shoulder and mutter "he's gone." My heart was broken, but I didn't cry. I had to be strong for my family.
A few weeks later, my friend gave me an article from a newspaper about my brother. He had killed himself(this I knew). He walked in front of a train....at 10:45 in the morning. I had went to bed that night praying and he was already gone...my siblings and dad were looking for him and it was already too late. I was convinced that there couldn't have been a God. This was only real when not even a week later, a friend and her sister and another guy got in a car accident an my sister's friend died and my friend was in the hospital. Exactly two weeks after my brother died, at about 10:45 am ,a classmate's brother killed himself. I was really low at this point. I was depressed and didn't want to go on living...but I did because I saw and felt the pain it would cause if I didn't.
A month ago, I talked to a friend about everything I was feeling. I told her I was depressed and felt guilty and angry. Then, one day, I was listening to Jeremy Camp Carried Me and I was really focusing on the lyrics. Something came over me, I can't even explain it, but I started crying. Somehow I knew that my brother was okay and with God. I was always afraid he was in hell, but as a friend pointed out, we don't know what happened in his last hours. And although I thought that God had not helped me and my family, I realized he had. My brother was no longer in pain...and whether or not that was the way we all wanted it to happen, it did. It helped us too : no more worrying about my brother - we know he is at peace, safe, and with God. I gave my heart to God that day I cried and I have been loving and praising him like I should have my whole life ever since. As much as I want my brother back, I have to thank him - partly becuase of him, I will now get to see him happy again one day in heaven, with God.
Well, thanks for reading.
God Bless,
~Mary~
So I was raised catholic, but things in my life always pulled me away from faith and God. My dad abused my mom until they got divorced when I was four. My stepbrother had the worst temper in the world, and was in juvenile detention home for a long while. My sister was raped, got pregnant and had an abortion. One of my friend's mom killed herself, and she herself got into witchcraft, and our friendship broke apart. Through all of this, I was able to bounce back. I was a lot like John Kerry actually, I was a flip flop. I would believe in God when things were good, and when something bad would happen I would give up on Him. However, The thing that most challenged my belief and confirmed it, was what happened with my brother.
My brother, Erik, was ADD and bipolar. When he went off to college, he added drugs and alcohol to that, which isn't a good combination. He dropped out and came home.
From then on, he was in and out of depression, jobs, rehabilitation centers, jails, and hospitals(psych ward.) He tried to kill himself three times, and each time, someone would get there just in time to help him. Somehow I always thought that he would be okay, no matter what. I would see him get better and I would think, '"this is it, he's going to be okay now" and every time, he would fall back down again. I remember discussing God with my dad and step mom when my brother was in a rehabilitation center. I told them that in order for me to believe in God, I needed a miracle. I said, "He needs to help Erik."
My brother was an amazing brother. He always looked out for me, and in fact, he once told me, " I will always look out for you in the crazy annoying way I do because you are the closest thing to a daughter that I will ever have."
Well, January twentieth this year, when my brother was under the care of rehabilitationers and psychologists , I got a call from my sister in the afternoon, saying he was missing. I went to bed that night, leaving a note for my mom on the table about the news and praying that "if there is a God, please keep him safe." I woke up that night to sobbing downstairs. I went down and all my siblings were there, all but one. And one of my brothers was leaning against the wall in the same way he did when I was told my grandpa died. I knew it before my mom told me. All she could do was put her hand on my shoulder and mutter "he's gone." My heart was broken, but I didn't cry. I had to be strong for my family.
A few weeks later, my friend gave me an article from a newspaper about my brother. He had killed himself(this I knew). He walked in front of a train....at 10:45 in the morning. I had went to bed that night praying and he was already gone...my siblings and dad were looking for him and it was already too late. I was convinced that there couldn't have been a God. This was only real when not even a week later, a friend and her sister and another guy got in a car accident an my sister's friend died and my friend was in the hospital. Exactly two weeks after my brother died, at about 10:45 am ,a classmate's brother killed himself. I was really low at this point. I was depressed and didn't want to go on living...but I did because I saw and felt the pain it would cause if I didn't.
A month ago, I talked to a friend about everything I was feeling. I told her I was depressed and felt guilty and angry. Then, one day, I was listening to Jeremy Camp Carried Me and I was really focusing on the lyrics. Something came over me, I can't even explain it, but I started crying. Somehow I knew that my brother was okay and with God. I was always afraid he was in hell, but as a friend pointed out, we don't know what happened in his last hours. And although I thought that God had not helped me and my family, I realized he had. My brother was no longer in pain...and whether or not that was the way we all wanted it to happen, it did. It helped us too : no more worrying about my brother - we know he is at peace, safe, and with God. I gave my heart to God that day I cried and I have been loving and praising him like I should have my whole life ever since. As much as I want my brother back, I have to thank him - partly becuase of him, I will now get to see him happy again one day in heaven, with God.
Well, thanks for reading.
God Bless,
~Mary~
