All my life, I’ve struggled to believe God loved me. Even, at times, outright rejected it. 

I remember being deeply affected the first time I understood that sin was what put Jesus on the cross. The message of His love went straight over my head, and all I could see was horrifying proof of how horrible I must be. My mistakes had killed an innocent man. 

I’ve struggled with a pretty deep self-hatred from an early age, and this, combined with my realization about sin, resulted in my mind being darkened by shame and perfectionism. I honestly believed that my imperfections needed to be hidden or else no one would love me. Love became something I had to earn, and I lived in fear that if I ever messed up, I’d be condemned. 

Out of this, I developed an eating disorder, and soon was taking out my pain on my body. How I looked on the outside, I thought, would earn me love, and then no one would have to know how bad I was on the inside. Foolproof. Eventually, I fell away from good into a very worldly life, believing that I was too imperfect to be loved by Jesus or my family and that I may as well give up. I ran into very unhealthy relationships, worked insane hours at my jobs to gain approval, damaged my body with destructive habits. I became totally empty. 

In 2018, I began to feel Christ’s whisper in my heart. A nagging call to stop running and come to Him. I knew it was God, but I tried to redouble my efforts to run away, protesting that I couldn’t be anything for Him, that I wasn’t worthy of love. But the call only got stronger, and finally, a year later, I surrendered to Him. I quit my job, left my boyfriend, left my friends and the city I was in, and let Him lead me to conversion. 

I followed His call to become a Volunteer Missionary still thinking I had to earn His love, but my view has transformed. This past winter, I took the term away from Newman to finally address my struggles with my body and food, and in the process learned something I never dared to accept. 

Christ died for me. For me, personally. Out of love. I didn’t force Him to. He didn’t die because I’m awful. He died because He wants me to be free. He went freely, out of love. The cross is not a sign of condemnation, rather, it’s a sign of how much we are worth. We were worth the life of God’s Son. My whole perspective flipped on its head, and I didn’t even realize it needed to. 

I have hope, now, in the fact that “nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus.” 

Christ has taught me to receive His love, exactly as I am. This is the Good News of our God, that our worth comes from His love for us, and that He cannot be driven away.

Join us for our Beacons of Hope Series. This series of testimonies will run from April 1 to June 3.

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