The Day I Heard God’s Voice!

My faith is in the Lord Jesus Christ. He has done so much for me that words can’t truly capture it, even during the times when I didn’t know Him. I always believed He existed, and I believed in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but that was as far as it went. I suppose it was somewhat superficial because I never tried to really get to know Him. If I had known then what I know now, I would have sought Him and never stopped until I found Him. In my case, I think He eventually got tired of my constant whining and emotional ups and downs, and when the time was right, He stepped in. Don’t get me wrong, I know there were many moments in my life when He intervened and I was aware of it, but I was ungrateful because I didn’t give Him the praise and thanks He truly deserves.

There have been many times in my life when I thought ending it all was the answer. I’ve never felt complete. There’s always that voice saying, “something is missing,” and I could never figure out what it was. It was always there, lurking, and sometimes it would hit me so hard that before I knew it, I’d be in that miserable, empty, lonely, and dark place where only crying brought temporary relief. That feeling of “something is missing” entered my life when I was about 12 or 13 years old. Nothing significant happened to trigger it—it was just there. There were moments of temporary relief, but inside, I was dying. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t think it would help. I felt trapped in a situation that not even my closest friends could understand.  It was not something I could discuss with my family.

As a child in my home country, I always felt strong and confident, but moving to another country brought a completely different atmosphere. The kids my age were nothing like those back home. Some didn’t hide the fact that they didn’t appreciate my presence or care whether I was there, carrying themselves as if they were above me—and that’s no exaggeration. That’s when I became more cautious, choosing carefully who I let into my life. I completely stopped sharing anything with my parents, and since I was never that close to my sisters, I couldn’t really open up to them about how I felt.

This emotional roller coaster carried into adulthood, becoming so heavy and overwhelming that I started to believe my only purpose in this world was to be miserable so others could be happy. I saw joy in everyone but myself, and truly believed that was my reality.

There were many times I thought about ending my life, convinced the world had nothing for me but pain and that death might be the best escape. Eventually, I would brush off those thoughts when the weight eased for a moment, and life went on. In the process, I made choices and mistakes that I deeply regret—situations that were difficult and embarrassing. I acted selfishly, not considering how much I was hurting my parents or others around me. I’m not ashamed to own up to my faults and the guilt that burdened me for so many years.

One day, I made a final decision. I was done being a coward, and I didn’t care who might find me—this misery had to end. I knew I’d never find that “something missing,” and I had no patience left; the search was over. I chose the perfect day: my mother told me she and my sister would be going to the casino and wouldn’t be back until late at night. I wasn’t excited because they’d be having fun, but because by the time they returned, it would be too late. Even if emergency services were called, there’d be no saving me. I longed for that day. I wrote my letters, my apologies, everything I thought was necessary.

That summer day in 2007 finally arrived. I woke up happy, knowing that in just a few hours, my mom and sister would leave, and I’d be alone to finally end my misery. I did my chores, fed the dogs and cats, and locked myself in my room, anxiously waiting for Mom to say they were leaving.

At last, they were gone. It was time. There was one last thing to do: I called a good friend, promising myself I wouldn’t tell him my plans because I knew he’d do everything to stop me. We ended up deciding to meet for lunch, and I agreed, thinking of it as a “goodbye lunch.” I just had to keep quiet.

We met at one of our favorite restaurants, talking about the past and the present. Then, without meaning to, I blurted out my plans. I hadn’t chosen to tell him—it just happened. He began speaking about God’s word, and I listened, as I always did, because his words brought me comfort. That day, I told him, “Not even you can stop me”.  Suddenly, his face looked somber.  He started speaking of God, which I did not mind at all.  It always made me feel better to hear it.

After lunch, he walked me to my car, opened the driver’s side door, and let me get in. Normally, he would wave goodbye and head to his own vehicle, but that day he walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. He didn’t get in, but said, “I did everything I could, I gave you the word, and I know God would not be angry with me. I leave you to God now.” I replied, “Okay,” with a smile, and he walked away toward his car parked across the lot. I quickly turned off my cellphone, thinking he might call to try and stop me again.

As I passed his car, I glanced to my right and waved goodbye. He waved back without a smile, but it didn’t matter—I was happy. I’d gotten that “goodbye” moment with him.

In the car, I didn’t bother with the air conditioning. The CD player was off.  I normally, have my favorite music playing over and over until I got to my destination.  The windows stayed closed, and I was filled with this strange, happy feeling. I started noticing how beautiful the day was—the sun in my eyes, yet somehow not bothering me. There was something about the sky that seemed different, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The sunlight glared in my face, but it felt oddly comforting.

As I neared the exit, I thought, “Oh great, I’ll probably get the red light at the main intersection,” and it bothered me that it might cost me a few more minutes. Sure enough, the light turned red. Sitting there waiting for it to change, I felt irritation growing—especially since it had already turned green twice for the other direction while mine stayed red. I considered moving into the right lane, making a turn, and going around, thinking maybe the light was broken. Just as I eased my foot off the brakes, I heard a voice. It seemed distant yet clear, with an air of authority, asking, “Why do you want to kill yourself?” That was all it said. I glanced in the backseat, knowing no one was there. There were no cars beside or behind me. I sat still for about ten seconds, trying to figure out where the voice had come from.  Instead of being frightened, as if someone were in the vehicle with me, I pondered the question for a few seconds. When I replied, I didn’t respond to the voice but instead asked myself, “Why do I want to kill myself?” I didn’t hear that voice again.

Suddenly, the light turned green. I started toward home but, still puzzled, pulled into the parking lot behind a convenience store. I grabbed my cellphone and called my friend. He didn’t answer, so I waited a moment and called again. When he picked up, I couldn’t stop talking as I told him what had happened. He replied, “Praise the Lord,” and in that moment, the thought of ending my life vanished. We decided to meet at the park, and he even left work early, thinking it was better for me not to go home right then. I drove twenty minutes to the park, and we spent time talking and laughing. After I shared my experience again, he thanked God, and our conversation shifted to our usual joking and catching up, since I’d been living in Los Angeles for about a year.

When I got home that night, I tore up the goodbye letters and threw away the pills I had planned to take. I went about my nightly routine, waiting for my mom and sister to return.

God stepped in that day! If He hadn’t, I would have left this world only to stand in His Presence and face judgment—and that judgment wouldn’t have meant entering the Gates of Heaven. How could I not have faith in my Lord? This is just one of many times, past and present, when He has intervened to protect me. Thank You, Lord.

**Praise the Lord.

estee