Every moment of despair in my life, I confided in seclusion. It was my safe place; my solace.

When I was little, every time I needed to be alone… I made an excuse to go to the bathroom. Even if I didn’t have to go. I dreamt of better days. I cried silent tears. I hid my anger or frustration. The bathroom wasn’t just a place with a toilet and shower for me… it was my escape.

When my dad told me that my sister died, I quietly nodded and said I had to go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I silently screamed. I cried until I couldn’t breathe as quietly as possible. My confused 10-year-old self found a switch in my brain and I said to myself, “be strong, your pain doesn’t need to bother anyone today…”

You see, I was scared. I don’t think I really understood heaven or hell or death to begin with. All I really understood was that she was gone. Gone in a similar way to every friend I ever made whilst moving from place to place.

I grew up fending for myself. I made my own decisions. Maybe not what I eat or where I sleep… But I decided when to feel. I decided when to cry. I decided that things wouldn’t hurt me. I decided when and how to react. I even decided that no one else needed to know my own inner turmoil. I saw the world as this empty place full of people simply fighting to survive and they had enough of their own troubles, they didn’t need mine.

I had to be smart. I had to be observant. I had to be fully aware. Then, I had to decide. My decision rested on my shoulders… from there on, anything that happened to me was my fault. I allowed myself to feel the pain, therefore I am to blame. I made the mistake of trusting the wrong choice, I must be at fault. And never once did it occur to me that stupid, unfortunate things happen and are not for the purpose of pointing blame but for growth.

Bad things happened because I wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, or strong enough. I simply wasn’t enough. So, according to my sad-little-girl-self, if I didn’t become faster, wiser, and stronger, I deserved every bit of anguish that came my way.

When I finally realized who Jesus was, I was already 30. When I finally realized I was allowed to feel in the public eye, I was allowed to cry and seek comfort… I’d lived a life. I had the money, the job, the relationships… I tried all the vices. I’d been carrying the weight of 30 years of bad decisions, terrible outcomes, years of abuse… and it was all entirely my fault.

But Jesus… He had this beautiful concept; this outstanding point of view. He saw our world in this turmoil. He saw the religious people, the chosen people, working –no, slaving— away to follow the law. So much so, that they lost sight of what God has ALWAYS wanted, love. He gets that we are weak. He understands that we are flawed. He knows that we are curious, insecure, and that we don’t know everything. We try to make this journey easy, perfect, and in His favor out of sheer fear.

We are selfish. More often than not, we followed His laws because we wanted Him to help us with our wants. We wanted Him to do what we wanted Him to do. Even if it was for the afterlife, it was fear of hell. Where was love in all of this? When did we stop to just LOVE HIM?

But here He walked on earth… He suffered sacrificially. He gave His blood and His whole heart to save us. He never said, “if you can be perfect, I’ll let you into heaven.” He also, more than once, proved that we missed the point of every law created. So, what was His true want for us? He told us… to Love.

You could be a fisherman, a Samaritan, a Pharisee, a tax collector, a prostitute… you can be a sinner. But He will STILL have died for you and He will STILL have shed His blood for you and you, sinner, are STILL forgiven and loved. That doesn’t mean that we can do whatever we want and get away with it. There are consequences to our actions, but the consequence will never be that He doesn’t love you.

I recently realized that in my seclusion… I was never alone. He was beside me. He was wiping my tears. He even begged me to stop carrying my load. But I carried it until I broke. Being shattered in pain was the best thing that ever happened to me… because in that moment, when I believed all hope was lost, His hand was outstretched and His heart lifted me to my feet. Finally, I saw His face. Finally, He showed me real LOVE.