"Put down the blade," I heard a voice whisper. I knew it wasn't my parents, my siblings, or even one of my friends. No. It wasn't in any shape, form, or fashion. I looked around, looking for someone to be in the room, but no one was there. Just me, myself, and this thing that was about to take all the pain away. I felt so worthless. What was I still doing here? Nobody cares. I could leave right now and I bet no one would remember my name. I picked the knife back up and heard it again as I got closer to my neck. "No. Stop. You're making a mistake." What is that? Is this a prank? I know it isn't "God" or whoever this imaginary person in the sky is. People always say, "Jesus loves you! God loves you! He will always be there!" Yeah, well if he really "loves" me, why is he putting me through this? I've heard church people say, "God doesn't put you through anything you can't handle!" I beg to differ. I can't handle this. The taunting, the harassment, the hurt, the pain; if he has a plan for my life, I won't live to see it cause this one sucks. I picked back up the blade and thunder kicked in; right on cue. It scared me. I finally got so angry, threw down the knife and screamed at the top of my lungs, "What do you want from me? Why won't you leave me alone? You're not even real!" Just when I said that, a wind blew and somehow knocked my bible onto the floor. The book I thought was a fairy tale for all these adolescent years. No. This couldn't be happening. This can't be happening. Just a coincidence. I know I'm not high; I'm completely sober. I just rubbed my face in distraught. I'm frustrated, tired-tired of life. Tired of all these games and I'm especially sick of this imaginary dude upstairs playing with me. I pace around the room hopelessly and then tripped. I look down and see the book of a million lies. How could anyone believe such filth? So much false hope. There is no "better life" after we leave here. Once we're gone, we're gone. I'm getting angrier. Not at myself, but at the thing in the sky we call "God" and how this guy does miracles. Where's mine? I've grown up in the church long enough to know he at least does that. "Where's my miracle, oh wise one?" I said sarcastically. I looked back down at this book-the book that supposedly teaches you the way of life and this guy who apparently died for us and how this "God" gives us comfort and peace. Where's mine? I finally picked this garbage up and said, "If you're really there, why am I going through all this? Tell me how I can get away from it. Tell me how to get rid of everything without ending my life." I closed my eyes, waiting for something magical to happen. Nothing. Just like people. They let you down just when you think you can depend so much on them. Why did I even think this could work? I'm so stupid. This is stupid. Why am I here? My eyes started to water as I tightened my eyes and said, "False hope. Never fails," and threw the book down. I went to my blade and I couldn't find it. I looked under my bed and on my shelf. Nothing. I was just about to go in the kitchen until something caught my eye-the bible was open to a specific book, chapter, and for some reason, a verse. I looked down and picked it up. I couldn't stop myself. What was I doing? I'm building false hope again. "Put it down," I told myself in my head-it wouldn't listen. I brought it close and read:
Matthew 11:28
"Come to me, all of you who are tired and have heavy loads, and I will give you rest."
I couldn't believe my eyes. A sign. I felt hot tears run down my checks and before I knew it, I was on my knees. Praying. Thanking the man I once thought was a fairy tale for saving my life. Thanked him for loving me and showing me I'm not alone. I couldn't stop crying. I accepted Christ and I wouldn't change a think except accepting Him in the first place. He has made me whole again.
Psalms 147:3
"He heals the broke hearted, binding up their wounds."
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