Exhibit A: Young girl who grew up attending church since she was six. Definitely knows about God. Back then there was an age limit for Sunday school, and that was 12. I was a good kid, I think at least. Not a trouble maker, well until i hit that age of 12. Sunday school is special for many reasons, well for one you are leading kids the right direction, God. But the most important factor is that the kids are being taught in their language, in a way they understand. That's great! When I "outgrew" Sunday school I had no problem with it in the beginning, I pretended to understand what that pastor was talking about when in reality, I had no idea, for it was not the type of language I understood. Just like anyone who goes to church to warm up a chair I began to get bored. I was too old to be in Sunday school, yet too young for youth group. So I was left "floating" around clueless in church. Some of my Sunday school buddies also outgrew Sunday school and began to join me in the service. From then on every church service for us was a reunion, catching up, laughing, joking, all meanwhile the service was on. I began to get rebellious not just with my parents but with anyone who I believed thought they had authority over me. This infinite list included the pastors, their wives, all the assistants, my parents, and any grown up who intended to tell me what to do. It got so bad, I was asked to leave the service numerous amounts of times by the pastor. When any assistant tried to help me and give me advice, I'd back talk to them. All my "friends" thought I was cool and that's all that mattered. But frankly something started to change in me. I was no longer happy, I began to get depressed out of nowhere. The times I cried myself to sleep is too many to count. I began to self harm. Cut. Obvious cuts actually for they were all on my arms. I'd lock myself in my room and listen to music and cry. I wanted to end my life, yet I was too much of a coward to actually do it. I wanted help. Deep inside I was yearning for help from anyone. All this was undercover though, for in front of anyone I was as tough as a nail and always with a smile, never admitting that I needed help. No one knew, and I was too "tough" to say anything. As time went by and the number of assistants that talked to me went from about 13 to 0, because everyone had lost hope in me, and that included pastors. I don't blame them, I was horrible. anyway as time went by I got worse. I lost hope in myself and lost hope that anyone would look deep enough into my eyes and see that cry for help. But God didn't. He sent me an angel, someone who would go into hell and pull me out. She cared for me without even knowing me. She saw what everyone else decided not to see, Hope. She prayed for me, fasted for me, gave part of her life just to save me and that makes me who I am today. I'm not going into detail for there is far more to this experience and my point is made.
Sometimes there are those who seem to have no hope, but their cry for help is louder than their pride and we must not give up on them for they are a precious soul. All we have to do is look deep enough, care enough........ and never lose hope, never give up, never stop fighting.
Just a Girl :)
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