Often, I am challenged to present evidence for the existence of God and our Savior Jesus. I usually offer rational evidences. However, for many, this evidence is no more than a collection of words. However, there is evidence that comes closer to where many live. The following account comes from one of my students – a woman whose testimony I fully trust:
In my early 20s was a street hustler, I prostituted, did
drugs and hung out in clubs throughout Manhattan.
I had 3 children and after many years of living that life I decided to settle
down with anyone just because it seemed normal and all my friends were doing
it. I lived with guy who I didn’t love. He was very abusive to my older
children and they were confined to their bedroom most of the day.
My youngest child was born with a hearing deficiency which
meant he suffered from tunnel hearing which in turn meant that he spoke with a
speech impediment. At the age of two his words were “baba” for milk and “nana”
for his brother and mostly what most people would call gibberish. So it was
hard to understand him, he would point to whatever he wanted and cry out of frustration
because we really couldn’t understand him. I took him to specialist to see what
they could do, and surgery was one option, but for a later age. For now, speech
therapy was offered.
I became deeply depressed and often found myself crying not only because of my youngest but mostly
because I was living with a man I didn’t love and he abused my other kids, how
was I going to get away from him without violence. He would always threaten
someone in front of me and tell me stories of how he stabbed someone and it
made me very afraid for my children and me. I had no way out of this
relationship without some sort of violence, no family member who would help
because in front of the world he was the nicest and sweetest man around, always
helpful and kind but behind closed doors he would turn into a monster full of
power and bringing up anything as a excuse to punish my kids or start a fight
with me.
I felt desperate, I needed a way out without it becoming
violent, and so I came up with a plan. I decided to kill my children and commit
suicide. Since he had to leave for work early in the morning, I thought I would
close all the windows and put the burners on without flame. I wanted the whole
apartment to be full of gas so we would be consumed and just asleep, forever.
No more pain, no more suffering, I decided the next morning is the day. The
next day comes he goes off to work and I start on my plan. I close the windows
and put on the burners. I go to the bathroom so I could think and plan how I
was going to make sure the older ones wouldn’t go into the kitchen and if the
gas doesn’t work what else would I do. While in the bathroom my 2 year old
comes in and stands in front of me and says “don’t worry mommy Jesus loves us!”
My mouth dropped open. This is the child that couldn’t speak
clearly. This is my baby who couldn’t hear, and he clearly said these words. I
knew then that God had heard my cries for help. I couldn’t control myself. I
cried and hugged him and ran into the kitchen to open the windows and shut off
the stove. I went into the bedroom with my children and started to play, and
for the first time I really saw them as a gift from God.
I was praying silently and of course tears streaming I began
to thank Him and knew then that he would send me help to get out of this
situation, and He did, but that's another story.
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