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.