I never would’ve imagined that my life would end up in the hands of the Lord, let alone that I’d fall so deeply in love with Him. My early years were dark—a blur of abuse, addiction, violence, and the relentless struggle to survive. I grew up feeling like I was thrown into a life I never chose, marked by things that no child should experience. There were days when I thought there was no escape, that I was just a product of my environment, forever bound by choices I thought I had no control over. In a world that seemed determined to crush me, I felt like I was simply drifting, numb to the hope of ever living a different kind of life. The cycles of pain and survival were all I knew.
Christ didn’t wait for me to be ready or cleaned up. He didn’t wait for the mess to settle, for the wounds to heal, or for my life to somehow get back on track. No, He found me right there in my brokenness, strung out, with nothing left to offer but a life in shambles. That’s the thing about Him—He didn’t look at my past and turn away; He saw me exactly as I was and loved me anyway. He didn’t care about the mess or the mistakes. He looked past the guilt, the shame, the addictions, and the mistakes and reached out to the person I was beneath it all—the person I’d almost forgotten was there.
It was in that moment that I began to understand His love. It wasn’t a love that waited for me to get my act together; it was a love that saw me at my worst and chose me anyway. This is why I fell in love with Christ, because His grace broke through the walls I had built up over years of pain and regret. He met me in my darkness and invited me into His light, giving me the courage to believe that maybe, just maybe, my life could be different. And in doing so, He changed my life forever.
My life was chaos, plain and simple. I grew up in a world where the lines between right and wrong were blurred, and innocence was something I lost before I even understood what it meant. I was surrounded by things no child should ever see—violence, addiction, the darkness that hides behind closed doors. Those early years set me on a path I didn’t choose, but it was the only one I knew. So I followed it, and with each step, it felt like I was slipping further into a void I didn’t know how to escape.
By my twenties, addiction had taken hold of me completely, and I was lost in a cycle of self-destruction. Meth, heroin—whatever could numb the pain, I reached for it, thinking it was the only way to get by. Those substances became my escape, my comfort, the only thing that made sense in a world that felt broken beyond repair. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw someone I didn’t recognize, someone I thought was too far gone. I was angry, lost, and on the verge of giving up. Then jail came, and with it, I hit what felt like the lowest point of my life. I thought that was it, that my story was already written and I was destined to be a cautionary tale.
But in that dark cell, when I was at the end of myself, something miraculous happened. Christ spoke to me.
I started having dreams—vivid, intense visions where He showed up in ways I couldn’t explain. They weren’t the kind of dreams that fade by morning. These were encounters, moments where I felt like I was being pulled out of my reality and into something sacred. I knew, deep down, that I didn’t deserve His attention. I was painfully aware of everything I’d done, every mistake, every wrong turn. But there He was, in a jail cell, reaching out to someone who felt utterly unworthy of love, let alone His love.
There was one dream in particular that stands out to this day. In it, His presence was like a blazing light—a warmth that was so powerful it felt like it was burning away every lie I’d ever believed about myself. Every thought that said I was worthless, that I was beyond saving, that I was too far gone to be loved—it all started to melt away in that light. It was as if His love was reaching out, covering the darkness and whispering to me that I wasn’t defined by my past. I felt something in me shift, something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. He was showing me, without saying a word, that I wasn’t too far gone.
That’s where the real change began. From that moment, He started speaking to me in ways I could understand, even as lost as I was. These encounters weren’t like anything I’d known before. It wasn’t some distant, lofty voice speaking judgment or condemnation. No, He was speaking to me as someone who cared deeply, who saw value in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. It was as if He knew me better than I knew myself, saw something in me I’d long since buried under layers of shame and regret.
That’s why I fell in love with Christ. He didn’t come to me in a church pew, or when my life was put together and respectable. He showed up for me in the pit, without conditions or judgment. He offered me a way out, a chance to believe in something better. He looked past my mistakes and gave me a reason to believe again. In a place where I had nothing, He offered me everything—hope, purpose, and the kind of love that reaches deeper than any hurt. That was the beginning of everything. That’s where He pulled me out of darkness and showed me a light I thought I’d never see again.
In one vision, I saw myself standing before Christ. His presence was as powerful as it was gentle, and I knew He was inviting me to lay everything down. He asked me to bring it all to the altar—my pain, my past, my mistakes, all the things I’d used as armor and identity for so long. I remember standing there, feeling the weight of everything I’d carried, and knowing that to truly follow Him, I couldn’t hold anything back. So I surrendered. I laid it all down, letting go of every piece of my story, every wound, every regret. And in that moment, I felt the weight of His love like I had never felt before. This wasn’t just a comforting love; it was a love that burned, a love that purified. It was as if His love was refining me, burning away everything that didn’t belong, everything that kept me from fully stepping into who He was calling me to be.
This season of surrender wasn’t easy. It felt like I was being stripped bare, exposed to myself in ways that were both humbling and terrifying. Each day, it was as if He pulled back another layer, revealing things I had buried deep, things I didn’t want to face. I felt raw, vulnerable, as I let go of everything I’d used to protect myself. But with each step, I also felt more alive. The wilderness became a place of transformation, a sacred space where His love began to reshape me, breaking me down only to build me up stronger, freer than I had ever been.
Christ wasn’t just saving me from my past—He was remaking me. He was chiseling away at everything false, everything I thought I needed but didn’t. And in the emptiness left behind, He was filling me with something real, something eternal. Falling in love with Him meant giving up my way for His, and I began to realize that His way was freedom. What I thought would be the loss of control, the stripping of my identity, became the discovery of who I truly was in Him. In the wilderness, He taught me that surrender isn’t defeat; it is victory, and His love isn’t just salvation—it is transformation.
One day, I ran into Charles. Life hadn’t been easy on him either, and I could see it in his face, in the way he carried himself. There was a heaviness there, a weight he hadn’t been able to shake. I knew that look well—it was the same look I’d carried for years. As we talked, I felt the Spirit nudging me to share my story with him, the journey Christ had taken me on and how He had brought me through the darkest parts of my life. So, I began to tell him everything—the addiction, the prison, the visions, and how Christ had reached down into my brokenness and given me a new life.
As I spoke, I saw something shift in Charles. His arms, which had been crossed defensively, started to fall to his sides. His eyes softened, and I could tell he was letting down the walls he had built up. It was like watching a light break through the clouds, and I knew the Lord was working on him right there. In that moment, I realized Christ was using my story, my scars, to reach him. That realization overwhelmed me. It reminded me of how personal and powerful His love really is—that He meets us exactly where we are, even in our most guarded places. Seeing Him touch another life through my own journey made me fall even deeper in love with Him.
Every time I served someone, every time I shared my testimony, I felt His love in me grow stronger. It wasn’t a love just for me to hold onto; it was a love meant to be shared, meant to spill over into the lives of others. Through ministry, I saw that Christ’s love isn’t just about healing our wounds—it’s about calling us to be healers ourselves. He uses our brokenness to reach other broken hearts, our stories to give hope, and our lives to point back to Him. His love transformed me, and now, through Him, I was becoming a vessel for that same transforming love, sharing it with everyone willing to listen.
My love for Christ isn’t just something that happened in the past—it’s alive and real, a relationship that deepens and grows with every new day. I still stumble, I still face struggles, and there are days when the old wounds and doubts try to resurface. But every time, His love meets me in those moments, just as it did in that jail cell years ago. It’s the same faithful, unwavering love that found me at my worst, lifting me up again and again. Today, I live with a sense of purpose and peace that I never knew was possible, and it’s all because of Him. He’s not just the reason I got back on my feet; He’s the reason I stay standing.
Falling in love with Christ has been the most profound journey of my life. It’s a journey that hasn’t just saved me from my past; it sustains me every day, giving me strength and purpose to move forward. Each day, He reveals more of His love, more of His grace, teaching me what it means to walk in His ways. It’s a constant invitation to grow, to trust, and to live with an open heart, and through every season, He guides me, showing me that I am never alone.
The beauty of this journey is knowing that His love isn’t just for me—it’s for everyone. Every step I take with Him, I’m reminded that His love is open to anyone willing to let Him in, to take that leap of faith and allow Him to work within them. Christ’s love is a love that transforms, a love that doesn’t just change circumstances but changes hearts. And as I walk with Him, I know this love has the power to reach beyond my life and into the lives of anyone searching for hope, for redemption, for a reason to believe again.
This is why I love Christ. He met me in the depths of my darkness, walked with me through the wilderness, and gave me a new heart when I thought it was impossible. I share my story because I know there are others out there who feel like I once did—beyond hope, too broken, or too far gone for anyone, let alone God, to care about. But let me tell you something: there is no place too dark, no pit too deep. Christ’s love reaches into places we can’t even imagine, pulling us out of the shadows and into His light. He is ready to meet you exactly where you are.
If you’re reading this, wondering if His love could really be meant for someone like you, I want you to know the answer is yes. Christ’s love is for you. He’s waiting with open arms, ready to redeem every part of your story, heal your wounds, and give you a life filled with purpose and peace. Falling in love with Christ wasn’t about finding religion or following rules—it was about finding a Savior who loved me right where I was and who continues to love me into the person I’m becoming. His love is real, it’s relentless, and I want you to know that...He loves you!