Sometimes, God shows up in big ways through others. That’s exactly what happened in my life. God used others and turned everything upside down.

I was the quintessential church kid, but my faith journey really didn’t continue past the four walls of the church. I knew who he was, but I didn’t really have a relationship with God despite my regular attendance, choir membership, and youth group events. So when I left home, my foundation was there, but it definitely wasn’t strong.

I got married entirely too young, and within our first year of marriage, I experienced a depression diagnosis, a big move to Ohio, emotional abuse, a marital separation, and a deployment overseas. Needless to say, I was broken. It was one of the most brutal years of my life, and yet it never occurred to me to lean on God through any of it.

A friend who knew my struggle invited me to church a few times, but I didn’t see the point. You see, after announcing my divorce, an ill-intentioned person read  Mark 10:2-12 to me. They tried to use this as a reason to stay married. It felt like a weapon wielded against me, proof of my supposed worthlessness. Why bother with faith if I was already destined for failure?

This friend, however, was clever. Knowing my love for learning about different cultures, she pitched a new angle: a Bible study on world religions. Each week, the Chaplain hosted a guest leader – a Rabbi, Imam, and Priest – who’d share their faith and answer questions. Intrigued, I went. And got hooked. Not just on the fascinating exploration of various beliefs but also on the people I met. A sense of warmth, acceptance, and genuine peace washed over me each week. One study led to another, and eventually, Sunday worship felt like a natural extension.

Here, amidst this supportive community, I finally understood what Godly love felt like. It wasn’t judgment or condemnation but a gentle hand reaching out. Talking to the Chaplain, I confessed the guilt and shame that weighed me down. He shared the story of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. The cracks, he explained, became part of the piece’s beauty, a testament to its history. That resonated deeply. Broken, yes, but God was putting me back together, piece by precious piece. My life, with Him in it, could be even more beautiful and stronger.

Healing is an everyday battle, but it’s a fight worth fighting. It’s even easier knowing that I no longer have to fight alone.