Finished Narrative - My Salvation

Trigger warnings: Blood, satanism, religion. Same trigger warnings, but still, this is not for the faint of heart. This is a story of my salvation and my journey to Jesus and deals I made with the devil. 

Hi. I'm Sara, and by the grace of God, I am standing here right now. I guess my story starts with my 13th birthday: The beginning of my teenage years. 

I had a lot growing up, and I still have more as I mature. I had nice toys, the latest American girl dolls, a nice bike, and all the clothes a girl could ever ask for. I was truly happy, without a care in the world. As most of us know, social media can kill any sense of confidence one has. It just so happens that the age minimum for registration is 13 years of age, so being the "grown up" idiot I was, I took it upon myself to create an *** account. For 13 year old me, it was amazing. I learned more from it than I had ever learned. Mind you, this was during the COVID-19 lockdown, so I spent hours scrolling, listening, and reading hundreds of posts. It was a whole new window of the world for me, a "new beginning", a "fresh start". Little did I know, it only opened up the fiery gates of *** to me. 

As influential as the internet was and still is, I was an easily impressionable child and often put value into what others said to me and their opinions of me. I was not an unfortunate looking girl, so with every photo I posted, I got complimented by countless strangers. It was dangerous, I know, but I continued chasing the praise I rarely received from my parents from these random people. My whole life up to that point, I had been taught to be compliant and do what I'm told, so I chose to listen to people when it came to what I did with my body, or my clothes, or my hair. I chose to listen to others when it came to what instrument to choose in 6th grade. When it came to social media standards, I chose to strive for whatever image that the media put out. When the voices in my head spoke up, I chose to listen. Those voices made big promises. They promised eternal happiness, eternal wealth, and everything I could ever ask for. When I heard the voices saying "I promise, I promise, I promise", I gave in. I had no idea where they came from, but I didn't care. I had sold my soul to the devil, and I felt powerful. I hated God. I hated that he put me through this pain and isolation. I hated being stuck in the house and social distancing. I didn't understand anything but the whispers in my ear. These whispers told me to sacrifice my own blood, they told me that my mother was not to be trusted, and they told me that they were more powerful than God himself and they could do the same for me, and I listened. Through listening to these voices, I became a raging Satanist. I bathed in the benefits of my own sacrifices until my health soon declined. Through material and spiritual malnutrition, I became bitter and hateful. I held grudges, I put myself above anyone and anything. I just didn't care. When it came time to return to public school in the 8th grade, I connected with people who brought me closer to earth, until they made the same mistakes I had made; only this time, it was out of my control. The longer the friendship lasted, the harder they pulled me away from any chance of having faith in good. At that point in my life, I had let go of my Satanic habits, but I was far from saved. I let go of the friendship that pulled me away from God. Just like Jesus said to his disciples, "If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before you", I took this to heart. They did hate me, and they probably still do. Unfortunately, I can't fix it, a doctor can't fix it, and her girlfriend can't fix it; only she can make the choice for herself, just like I made the choice to forgive her and let go of the past. She had brought me to Jesus for a little while, until her connection with Jesus weakened and she nearly pulled me down with her. I left her, I left my old life, and the voices that had been infesting my brain all went silent. 

The newfound silence of the voices in my head presented a new challenge: the constant battle between good and evil. It felt as if the devil was making house-call after house-call, demanding me to answer the door, demanding me to succumb to his wrath and false promises. Through my declination to answer to his demands, he sent challengers of my faith in order to take back what God had damned him from. The voices in my head kept knocking at my door, like a stern mother and a rebelling child fighting back and forth incessantly. In the moments that I thought would be the last moments of my life, I heard a voice in the back of my brain. That voice was minimal, but the meaning was monumental.

"Romans 8:18."

For those who haven't opened a Bible in their lives, I was in your shoes, too. At that moment in my life, I had never bothered to read a verse in my life. I took out the Bible under my desk and aloud I read,

"For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."

The pain I was feeling didn't compare to the joy that was coming. My life is by no means perfect, but I am no longer afraid. God's voice became the summit of my faith. His voice was bigger than the evil that was ridden in my head, bigger than the voices of the people I used to call my friends, and bigger than all the fears and doubts in my mind. No matter what people say to this day about irrelevant events in the past, I'll never let them hurt me again. The only voices in my head that I listen to is God's voice and my own, and through my faith, I'm no longer afraid, for I see the pearly white gates waiting for me.