Author Darlene J. Conard

As I strolled down the bustling street, lost in my usual routine, a sudden tug tugged at the depths of my spirit. An overwhelming urge to seek solace in a nearby church pierced through the heavy negativity that shrouded my day. It whispered to me like a gentle breeze, urging, “Aren’t you weary of existing in this turmoil? You can break free from this relentless torment.” Yet another voice echoed in the shadows of my mind, darker and more insidious, “God has forsaken you. He disregarded the abuse inflicted by your father. Embrace the darkness; it is your only friend and protector.” In a moment of twisted clarity, I questioned, why should I fear the darkness when it offers me comfort and familiarity, like an old, worn blanket on a cold night?

As I walked beside my sister, who was blissfully unaware of the turmoil within me, I felt a deep sense of conflict. In the quiet corners of my heart, I could sense Grandma on her knees, fervently praying, pleading with heaven for a glimmer of intervention. Yet, amidst her passionate supplications, a part of me wished she would stop. She exuded such a powerful presence of God’s glory, a radiant light, that it felt almost overwhelming to be nearby.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love her; on the contrary, my heart was filled with affection. But the truth lingered—light cannot comprehend darkness, as articulated in John 5:1. Despite her unwavering faith, Grandma never thrust her beliefs upon me. She didn’t approach me with condemnation or harsh words, reminding me of my faults. Others, however, imposed that judgment upon me relentlessly.

Her prayers, rich with intercessory love, enveloped me like a warm embrace, filled with limitless compassion and comfort. Gifts and cards flowed from her with regularity—tokens of her affection that sometimes felt overwhelming. Each message bore simple yet profound sentiments: “I love you. Love, Grandma.” But in those moments, even the kindest words held little allure for me as I wrestled with my inner darkness.

A saying resonates deeply: “Some people won’t like you because you irritate their demons.” This phrase reflects the reality that when we strive to live a life in close alignment with Jesus, our very being can provoke discomfort in others who may not share the same values or spiritual journey. The evidence of His presence in my life is clear and undeniable, illuminating my path even in my darkest moments.

Now that I’ve found my footing and set my life in order, understanding this truth has become even more apparent. I recognize that I am far from perfect; I carry my share of mistakes and failures like badges of experience. However, in my imperfections, I have come to appreciate His strength, which stands unyielding and ideal, and His grace, which envelops me and proves to be more than enough for every challenge I face.

In the seventeen years, I attended a church whose leadership scolded me for speaking of what I went through, such as witchcraft, child abuse anxiety, and self-mutilation. How will those lost in darkness know there is such hope if they aren’t aware?  

I will never forget going to a Pentecostal service with a friend. “Welcome, Holy Spirit” was the first worship song. Then came the individual songs. My friend sang “A Miracle in Every Pew.” It was then that I realized how miserable I was.

I’m in love with one man, and His name is Jesus; he saved my life. I owe Him everything!

My message is this. I’m not ashamed of the gospel. Each one of us has a testimony that can help.

Never stop praying. Give up! Keep serving God with all your heart.

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