Your Story is Someone’s Breakthrough
For years, I carried my past like a heavy, tattered cloak—pulling it tightly around me, hoping no one would see the stains. I hid my traumas, my mistakes, the choices I regretted. Not because I wanted to, but because shame whispered that if people knew, they would judge me. That they would see me differently.
The truth? I didn’t have a perfect childhood.
I did silly, reckless, regretful things as a teen.
I made a mess of my twenties. My thirties weren’t much better. And even now, I still stumble.
For the longest time, I thought my mistakes defined me. I let them become chains, keeping me trapped in the past, too afraid to let anyone see the real me. But God—oh, how I love those two words—but God never saw me as my mistakes. He never saw me as the broken girl I believed I was.
Somewhere along the way, as the years turned and His grace sank deeper into my soul, I stopped hiding. I started sharing. And I found something incredible: when we tell our stories, something shifts.
Truth is, I’m that person. The one who needs to hear that I’m not the only fumbling, odd-socked, can’t-keep-my-head-in-check woman. I want those me too and I get you moments. I want to know I’m not alone in my mess. And I think so many others do too.
There is someone out there—maybe even right now—who is drowning in shame, convinced they are too far gone, too messed up, too broken for God to love them. But you? You might be the one who shows them otherwise. When you open your mouth and say, I’ve been there too. And Jesus still met me with love. When you tell them, His grace is bigger than your failure. When you whisper, You are not beyond redemption.
The enemy would love nothing more than for you to stay silent. He wants you to sit in your shame, replaying your regrets over and over. But here’s the truth: there is nothing hidden from God. He has seen every moment, every mistake, every tear. And He still chooses love.
“Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story-those He redeemed from the hand of the foe.” - Psalm 107:2
Your testimony carries power. Your story, redeemed by His grace, is a weapon against the lies of the enemy.
To the Fearless, this part of my piece is for you.
The ones who face fear head-on.
The storytellers. The life-changers. The prayer warriors. The beautifully imperfect souls unafraid to get in the trenches and pull someone else out.
You are my people.
To those who have dared to stand up and say, Here’s my story, and here’s what God has done… thank you. Thank you for your testimony, for your rawness, for your faith. Thank you for making me brave enough to share my own traumas and failings, knowing that God was in it all. And because of Him, I have risen.
So keep telling your story. Keep shining His light into the darkest places. Because you never know who is listening, who needs to hear the words me too and I get you.
And most of all, you never know whose chains might break when they hear—God was in it all.
love, Sarah xx.
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I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I have worked in my church for 3.5 yrs. I have kept it a secret except for a few close church people who have helped me navigate and to monitor my meds to keep me safe. Every Monday we have a staff meeting. In that mtg we share Staff shoutouts and God stories. I never believed God's favor on my life. But I learned that it looks a different way for me. God provided the right drs to get me on the best medicine, finally a therapist who specializes in what I have and church staff who want to see me live. We my God story is that I finally shared my struggles with everyone. No more mask.i was able to teach them how to talk to me without asking "How are you?" They really don't want to know what swirls around in my brain. The support I'm receiving has been an outpouring of God's grace.
Yes, I too have a story to tell, nothing to boast about and I tell this in the greatest humility as all the honour and Glory goes to Him!
Born in a Christian home, I came of age and ran away from the control of my parents and into the arms of my husband-to-be. Unknown to me, I was so protected in my parent's home that I never knew the dangers that awaited me out of that environment. I ran away from home and followed him and all that was dear to me then. Within weeks I received my first beating and during the years to follow, I was threatened with death, my self-image completely broken, I became a worthless creature, controlled by him with fear that left me trembling at the site of him. He was an alcoholic and soon I was the victim of alcohol myself. It was the only way I could survive and I became more deeply entrenched into the world of liquor. At the age of 29, I was an alcoholic, living a life that sought the pleasures of the world and doing the things that were so against my better judgment but that did not count. I only had to survive! I remember falling to my knees one night asking God to help me because I am drowning, I have lost the will to live! The next week my husband died of a sudden heart attack.
It was my way out, or so I thought, but the accuser, he did not leave me and kept telling me that I prayed him dead, that I in fact murdered him. That drove me to thoughts of suicide..it was uppermost in my mind...but my alcohol abuse carried on until one day I was invited to a meeting, and thinking it was a 'party', I packed my suitcase and a spare bottle of Whiskey, and went. It was a steep hill we had to climb, large tall trees surrounding us and the people I was with seemed like 'not the partying' type, but nevertheless we walked. Halfway up the hill, the sound of 'Amazing Grace' flooded the area, there were speakers in all the trees and I was brought to my knees instantly.......I was healed from alcoholism, I sat and cried for hours.........I did not know what was happening but I was under Grace of the Holy Spirit!
I had a lot to deal with, I had many challenges ahead of me, but I knew He was Alive and He cared and took me gently onto the road of recovery. I know darkness, I know brokenness, I know rejection but I also know the Grace and Love of God. I have the scars to bear and I am not ashamed to show these scars to others! To me, they are scars of healing and His Love for me.