Guest Blogger: Passion King
“I will praise you to all my brothers; I will stand up in the congregation and testify of the wonderful things you have done.” Psalms 22:22
A few years ago my sister-in-law invited me to tag along with her to get a piercing in LA. I decided to go and met a beautiful young woman who I’ll call Carmen. Carmen was in her early twenties, bi-racial, she had hair full of curly brown locs and big green eyes. She was beautiful and so was her spirit. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you guys this, I usually don’t talk about it.” She continued to tell us about her brother who had committed suicide. I remember her telling us how she was the one who found his body, how she cleaned his blood and picked up pieces of his teeth that were tossed around the room when he pulled the trigger and ended his life. My heart hurt for her. Towards the end of our conversation, she announced she was expecting her first child and she beamed with excitement. Aside from trying to find her on social media I never heard from or saw her again. From time to time she would cross my mind and I’d say a prayer for her.
About a year later I discovered that I was pregnant with my first child. Growing up I always wanted to be a mother so I should have been excited! I was excited but also carried so much doubt. Could I really be someone's mother? I developed what I know now to be prenatal depression. Prenatal depression is depression that happens during pregnancy. I was very anxious, I cried a lot and couldn't see myself surviving childbirth. After my son was born I expected it to get better. It didn’t. I isolated myself from family, stopped going to church, and felt unworthy of motherhood. One night in October of 2015 I wrapped my son in his blanket and kissed him goodbye. I walked into the bathroom with a bottle of pills and no intention of walking back out. The enemy convinced me I was not worthy and my son would be better off without me. BUT GOD.
The holy spirit began to minister to me and asked me who would tell my son my story? I began to think back to the beautiful mother to be in the tattoo parlor. She didn't know why God had her sharing her story but now I did. I thought about leaving behind my sister and best friend. I thought about my brothers telling my son funny stories of me rapping or wrestling with them. I saw my mother picking up her phone and hearing the news from someone else. I began to thank God for that chance encounter and truly understood that our testimonies have the power to save lives.
Our testimonies are power-filled because they point others to God and give Him the glory. Our testimonies can be the catalyst that helps someone else recognize hope. I want my testimony to be a reminder that God is not a respecter for persons. (Romans 2:11) If he brought me out He can do the same for you. I encourage you to share your testimony: the good, the bad, and the ugly. You might change or save a life.
"I truly understood that our testimonies have the power to save lives."