We spoke quietly and with sadness about the moments in which we felt we had stood alone. We spoke about the pain of seeing friends with fresh cuts on their arms and our inability to help. I spoke of my own scars. She asked me if I knew how she could help someone going through the same as I had, and I told her that it is simply a matter of loving persistently even when your friend wants you to leave; it is a matter of praying even in the most hopeless moment; it is knowing that God is in the business of redemption.
All this happened after I shared my testimony of God’s faithfulness even in the worst moments, and how he gave me security in Him even in chaos. I had stood on the stage of the school hall with a shaky hand, wondering if I was making a mistake by sharing this story with strangers. What if they thought me strange? What if I became a object of few and confusion? What if it was just too much?
God reminded me that he has used the story he weaves in my life to bring light to dark situations before, and that suburban Sydney is just the same as the South Coast. I stood and spoke. I prayed that God would do what he wanted with these weak words.
He did do something with my weak words. He brought me into a quiet conversation with someone He loves dearly. He allowed me to let them know that no one is out of reach, and that He is worth living for even in the depths of hard situations.
As always, His faithfulness is true.