As a child, I was exposed to things I never should’ve seen. A neighbor introduced me to intimate behaviors far too early, and for years I carried confusion, shame, and questions I was too young to ask. That early encounter planted seeds that would later grow into struggles with identity, boundaries, and self-worth.
Growing up, I wrestled with friendships, with fitting in, and with moments of loneliness that often led me to compromise myself in search of connection. But everything changed when my brother was diagnosed with brain cancer. His illness opened my eyes to how fleeting life truly is and drew me—however imperfectly—toward faith.
In high school, I had a powerful encounter with the Holy Spirit. I felt love, peace, and clarity I’d never known before. But even after that moment, I fell back into reckless habits—stealing, drinking, partying. I was trying to live in two worlds: one with Jesus, and one ruled by chaos. I was involved in church, yet still chained to self-destructive behaviors.
The pain of watching my brother suffer for a decade was unbearable. We prayed together. We cried together. I drifted into unhealthy relationships and tried to numb the ache with astrology, drugs, and temporary comforts. But deep down, I knew these weren’t the answers. I started praying again—not just for myself, but for him. I cried out to God for peace.
When the end came, I felt it. I saw it. I believe God gave me a vision of angels surrounding my brother, and I knew—he was with the Lord. That moment broke me and healed me at the same time. It forced me to confront my pain and my past, but also reminded me of the hope I have in Christ.
Losing him changed me. It taught me how to grieve with grace and how to rely on God's strength, not my own. I no longer chase the same things I used to. My faith became more than a title—it became the foundation of my life.
Through everything—my rebellion, my grief, my healing—I’ve learned that salvation is a gift. It doesn’t require perfection. It just requires surrender. I now live to share that truth: Jesus redeems, restores, and never stops pursuing us.
Growing up, I wrestled with friendships, with fitting in, and with moments of loneliness that often led me to compromise myself in search of connection. But everything changed when my brother was diagnosed with brain cancer. His illness opened my eyes to how fleeting life truly is and drew me—however imperfectly—toward faith.
In high school, I had a powerful encounter with the Holy Spirit. I felt love, peace, and clarity I’d never known before. But even after that moment, I fell back into reckless habits—stealing, drinking, partying. I was trying to live in two worlds: one with Jesus, and one ruled by chaos. I was involved in church, yet still chained to self-destructive behaviors.
The pain of watching my brother suffer for a decade was unbearable. We prayed together. We cried together. I drifted into unhealthy relationships and tried to numb the ache with astrology, drugs, and temporary comforts. But deep down, I knew these weren’t the answers. I started praying again—not just for myself, but for him. I cried out to God for peace.
When the end came, I felt it. I saw it. I believe God gave me a vision of angels surrounding my brother, and I knew—he was with the Lord. That moment broke me and healed me at the same time. It forced me to confront my pain and my past, but also reminded me of the hope I have in Christ.
Losing him changed me. It taught me how to grieve with grace and how to rely on God's strength, not my own. I no longer chase the same things I used to. My faith became more than a title—it became the foundation of my life.
Through everything—my rebellion, my grief, my healing—I’ve learned that salvation is a gift. It doesn’t require perfection. It just requires surrender. I now live to share that truth: Jesus redeems, restores, and never stops pursuing us.
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