When I was 14 years old, I began to experiment with self injury. During a season of depression, I needed something. I needed to feel something in the midst of becoming numb. I can still remember the first time I did it. I remember crying in my room while I was home alone and repeating to myself, "What have I done, what have I done," while staring at my red stained arms. I remember trying to wipe it away, but the redness returning after a few moments. I remember how quickly it took over my life, and how quickly I allowed it to block everything good out of my life. I blocked out my family, my friends, and even God. I was ashamed and didn't feel loved. I would ask myself daily, "how could God see me do this and then claim to love me?" None of it made sense, so I quickly turned from my relationship with the Lord to a relationship I had created with self injury.
I vividly remember the night I had to tell my parents, as I sat there and had to show my mom and dad my arm, covered in healing wounds and fresh cuts. I couldn't breathe from crying so hard and seeing my parents' confusion and disappointment. I saw counselors, I tried medicine, but I wasn't interested in any help.
Today, at 22, I write with victory over that addiction. I'm able to confidently say, "That isn't a chain that holds me anymore," and it's been so freeing since I allowed the Lord to graciously and lovingly pull me from a pit I had dug myself. A few years ago, I entered into what would be a painful and slow recovery. It took time. It took tears. It took accountability. It took me saying, "let's fix this."
But I wouldn't change a thing.
Every once in a while, you might be asked "if you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?" This part of my life is never my answer to that question.
We can live with regret all we want, but what difference does that make? How could I claim to make a difference in the world by living in regret? How could I declare the Gospel when I have a part of my life that I feel the Gospel doesn't cover?
You might not have this particular struggle. It might be something completely different. But this is your reminder: God turns your mess into a ministry.
My battle with cutting was a private battle. For two years, I told everyone that I had quit when in reality, it was a demon I faced on a daily basis. I had no one on my side to walk beside of me saying, "Yes I get this," or, "I battled with it, too. Let's walk through this together." Most of that was because I shut people out, but another part was because no one understood.
After overcoming the addiction, I was able to be that person.
I was able to sit with young girls whose sleeves covered their arms, whose hearts felt like they were beyond redemption, and I was able to be a display of the Lord's goodness and favor. I remember sharing my story one time to my dad's youth group, and locking eyes with a girl who was around 13 or 14. She would break eye contact every time I would make it, and I knew she was the one I was talking to. As soon as the service was over, I bee-lined for her, and she hugged me while she cried. She was in the same mess I had been in years ago.
Don't misunderstand me in this. No part of me is jumping up and down to get your attention, looking for praise for myself. That's not what this is about. This is about how the Lord turns our messiness into something good. This is about playing a role in a life that God has so carefully written out.
Because of the messiness I had come from, the addiction, the pain, the glory of God was able to be displayed. The story didn't end with messiness. It ended in victory. It ended in hope. It ended with Jesus.
When you have a battle with a sin and addiction, there are times you sit and think, "God, what is the purpose in this?" And then it clicks. You see how the Lord has taken the mess you created and made it into something good.
"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28
Maybe you're in a season of freedom. You have a battle and you're on the victorious side, and you're standing with the Lord asking, "Now what?"
It's time to go.
It's time to share. It's time to see how the Lord is going to use it. Maybe it's today, or maybe next week, or maybe five years from now. Regardless, it will be used. Maybe to one person, or maybe to one thousand people.
Maybe you're in the season of bondage still, and you're angry with God for having this trial.
It's time to fight. It's time to engage with the Spirit and fight for victory. The story you are in today could be a story that someone looks to tomorrow.
"She overcame cutting with Jesus on her side. I can, too."
"He overcame anger with Jesus on his side. I can, too."
"They overcame an addiction with Jesus on their side. I can, too."
You just don't know what role you're about to play in someone's life. So when someone asks, "do you have any regrets? Anything you'd change from your past?" my answer is no.
Did I struggle? Yes. Did I give up a time or two? Yes.
But did the Lord use my messy life to make a difference? You bet He did.
