Conversion Story - From Darkness to Light

[Martain]

The year was 2004 and as a senior in High School things were going well. With concurrent college courses and an Internship at a local bank I felt successful in school and work. Though I lacked any real social life, I had befriended the girl I loved and was happy to let it develop further. Life felt good.

Yet spiritually I was struggling. I grew determined that I would live on borrowed light no more. I needed my own light. Having worked with my Bishop for years I wanted to receive my Patriarchal Blessing. He agreed I could but set some personal worthiness goals for me to complete prior to receiving it.

After a set period of exerting extreme will power I succeeded in receiving my blessing. It would still be years before I would begin to feel it's power or truly appreciate it.

I repented of my sins and then read the Book of Mormon. Though I prayed for a witness; though I plead, cried and even begged, the Heavens were silent to my ears and I didn't know why. Perhaps I didn't... really have a sincere heart? Perhaps my intent wasn't really... real? I had faith in Christ... didn't I?

I grew very discouraged and felt I had failed. That the reason why I had received no witness was my fault, that I was the one lacking. I believed that if I had truly met the requirements, I would have received the witness I sought.

Perhaps I was afraid to receive an answer. I knew that upon receiving an answer there would be a greater accountability for sin and that worried me. I misunderstood what type of sin made someone a son of perdition and I was afraid that with a witness of the truth I would still sin and then become one.

Then, I fell. Despair flooded through me. I knew, I knew that I had done my utmost to give up my sins and yet it hadn't been enough. I had confessed, felt remorse, and also forsaken my sins, yet the power of the atonement had not manifested itself in my life and freed me from the bonds I bore.

Why? I didn't understand. It was so confusing.

Then my family doctor told me he had made a mistake when charting my growth and that I had missed a major growth spurt. By then it was too late and my bones had fused. I'd never grow any taller and I didn't appreciate being comparatively short.

Then one of my only friends, the girl I loved, decided upon the council of her mother that she couldn't be my friend anymore and stopped speaking to me.

Already hurting from the blow to my faith, my self confidence and esteem took a dive.

I no longer felt worthy of the sacrament. My peers noticed my abstinence and their perceived alienation drove me from the midst of those who could have helped me most.

I left the protection of the flock and found myself scared, alone, and lost. I hurt so much inside but hid it behind a mask of forced cheer. I was a lost lamb and I saw no rescue in sight.

Dark clouds promising torrential rains and thunders rolled forth as the powers of hell and darkness surrounded me.

“You failed! It's impossible for you to change! This is just the way you are! The atonement isn't real! It's a lie! It doesn't work! If there is a God, he doesn't love you! You're weak! You'll never be enough! The promise isn't real! No one really loves you, no one really understands, no one ever will! Give up!”

The deluge of darkness poured upon me and under the continual onslaught of guilt, shame, pain, fear, anger and sorrow... I did exactly that. I gave up.

The flame of my faith, powerless against the wind without the shield of hope wavered... and then... was blown out. That was the day... I died.

Gone was the color of life. Gone was the meaning and the future's luster. My self-esteem, confidence and worth plummeted to the bottom of a stormy sea where no light shown. I was down for the count. And I was not getting back up.

Finding solace in gaming and reading alone, I even began to skip school. Having no hope of ever being free, I stopped struggling against my sins and embraced them instead. I knew they were wrong but I no longer cared.

By this point I was also fully inactive. The darkness in my life was so great that even the mention of God was sufficient to drive me out of a room.

My descent into darkness became unchecked as I fell further and further into the abyss of darkness. I still secretly was crying inside for help but no one could hear me or see past the mask I wore.

Then... a hand reached down into my hell and offered me a hand. A loving teacher, whose depressed son had committed suicide, recognized something was deeply wrong. She was afraid for me and with boldness sought me out. Gently she expressing her concerns, mentioning the differences she saw, and asked if I had considered that perhaps I was suffering from depression.

In a landscape devoid of light, lighting struck. A nameless foe now had a name. I was diagnosed with depression and started a course of medication.

This teacher, saved my life.

My doctor prescribed me a very serious anti-depressant called Lithium which instead of making things better caused sleep apnea. Now on two medications things grew even worse.

For the first time in my life I entertained thoughts of suicide. “Might as well kill yourself. Life doesn't really matter anymore and you might as well. No one understands your pain but maybe they will once you're gone. It would be better if you simply cease to exist.”

Again and again the dark thoughts filled my mind yet God was not finished striving with me and I rallied.

No! No! I don’t want to die yet! I want to live!

Scared more than perhaps I had ever been in my life I became terrified of what would happen if something wasn’t done and confronted my father with what I had just been thinking.

Together we sought the aid of a specialist in depression where I was immediately taken off of Lithium. Instead he prescribed Effexor and I found I could once again function.

The damage had already been done though and now I was chemically dependent upon the second medication Seroquil in order to sleep. Though I knew it not, the toll of this second medication would also cause me much grief.

On the sea of life, the waves continued to pound me. Wings soaked, sky dark and the sun hid from view, I had lost my strength to fly and almost my strength to stay above the water. Just as I was about to sink, I was lead to a buoy where I gladly allowed myself to be chained. I would soon learn that as long as I was bound to this chain, I could not fly.

Living by myself years passed. I would gain a job only to loose it within a year. I was fully addicted to internet gaming and struggling with my prescriptions. It only took a few nights of approaching the cusp of sleep but being unable to pass it to realize I couldn't skip even a single day of Seroquil.

Again someone reached into the hell of my life and offered me a hand.

My mother gave me a book called “Medical Secrets They Do Not Want You To Know About” by Kevin Trudeu. It blew my world apart. I simply couldn't deny the logic of many of his arguments.

I learned of safe and effective alternatives which were never presented to me simply because no profit could be made off of them. I learned of corruption in the medical industry and decided I'd had enough.

I quit my antidepressant cold turkey, weaned myself off of Seroquil within a week and spreading my wings leapt into the sky. It was glorious!

Unchained from the buoy I found life beautiful. After years of winter, rays of light finally began to appear on the horizon. The sunrise was coming and color began to flood back into my life.

Free from prescription's grasp I even found I wanted the light. I started conversing with those who practiced magic, with those who claimed mind talents or the Eastern Orient’s body arts. I conversed with those who claimed to be dragons or elves incarnate and was soon lost in a whole new world.

Though I walked forward in seek of light, yet again interested in religion, I had turned further into the dark of night.

My dreaming began to change dramatically. I started gaining control over

my dreams and found I could do things there that were impossible in reality. I liked doing these things. They stimulated my mind. Yet not all that happened in dreams pleased me. I quickly learned how to wake up and flee when necessary.

Consequences unforeseen followed as I kept finding myself in a situation where I would fall asleep but not start dreaming. Though unable to move or speak, I found that with effort I could wake up.

How could I be both asleep and awake at the same time?

I sought answers and found them. I learned of a medical term called sleep paralysis. When the body falls asleep it enters a protective paralytic state so that the sleeper does not harm themselves or act out their dreams.

In normal sleep, the mind shuts down as well. Yet to some it does not and they remain awake in a body that has gone to sleep. Unable to move, they panic and eventually wake up sweating and shaking in fear. This terrifies many of those who encounter it.

Normally the brain shuts down too. To those who experience sleep paralysis, the brain does not shut down and the person remains awake, trapped in a sleeping body. Confused by the inability to move, many people become terrified.

I grew curious and began experimenting with vivid dreaming and began finding myself sleep paralysis more often. Yet rather than wake my body I found, through exertion of extreme willpower, I could actually move different portions of myself outside the bounds of my sleeping body. Though I have made many terrible choices in my life, the decision to explore this new phenomenon would prove to be one of the worst.

I grew concerned that perhaps I was going insane or already was so. Perhaps I had a brain tumor. Perhaps all of these things were the product of a frenzied mind or indigestion. They weren't, I didn't, and I wasn't. At great cost that I yet pay, I became certain of specific truths.

We are not alone. Evil spirits are very real. We are more than a physical body. Our physical body holds our spiritual body of which it resembles. There is life after death.

Yet where were the spirits of goodness and light? Why did I not see them? I could not find them but instead found other spirits who at least had the appearance of being benign even if they weren’t light filled.

As I learned just how many spirits there are and how very real their power to influence us, I gained a misguided desire to do good through the belief that if I could consciously control while awake this awareness, I could help the living under attack and the dead who indicated they were trapped with no voice among the living and none to send them on.

I chose to share this one day with my brother and mother. They were greatly alarmed to say the least. They united in their warning. Stop! This is dangerous! I told them that I was in control and could handle it, that there were even some of the spirits who seemed quite nice and friendly. They strove more earnestly to dissuade me from my intended path yet I was determined and their pleas could not pierce me.

Again, a hand reached into my life to save me from myself.

They became calm and their efforts changed. You claim you’re in control? Surely you must get tired of it sometimes. Doesn’t it mess with the quality of your sleep? Why not take a vacation? Tell them to leave you alone for a month so you can make sure this is where you want to go. After all, once you peruse this, there might be no turning back.

This made… sense. Sometimes it was indeed exhausting. My sleep definitely was being affected. Yes, I wanted a break from it all. I went home and put up a sign saying “come back in a month and please leave me alone until ‘x’ date.” naively believing that this request would be honored. I went to sleep only to wake up screaming.

The next few days became successively worse.

Somewhere was the truth of what was happening to me. I had to find it. Whatever it was, where ever it was, it no longer mattered what it would cost to gain. I knew, I had to know.

I started to read books on wicca and other alternate religions. I would read a few pages and then find myself unable to continue. This confused me. I love to read, I’m a voracious reader, why could I not read these books?

In the darkness that was still my soul, a voice whispered into my heart and I was reminded of the teachings of the Gospel of Jesus Christ I had been raised under in my youth.

What if. What if? What if it was true? What if it was all true? What if I already knew the truth but had turned away from it?

I knew then why I could not read those books. The door of my past still stood ajar and a beam of light shown through, beckoning to me, inviting me. Yes, I knew it then. I knew I had to return to that door and open it fully one last time either to walk through it or to close it forever.

Just because I didn’t have proof that what I was taught was true, did not make it false. I had tried once and failed yet it wasn’t enough. I had to try again! Yet I already tried this once before and it hadn’t worked. In remembering my first attempt to gain what I was about to seek, I grew afraid that it would happen a second time as well.

I fell to my knees and in the name of Jesus Christ prayed like I had not prayed before.

“Heavenly Father. Father. I don’t know if you are there or not but I really hope you are. If you are, I’m going to try once more. If you don’t reach me now, I’m afraid that you’ll never reach me. It’s all or nothing. Please, help me!”

As I reaching up a hand reached down as I began to take tentative steps. I started again reading the Book of Mormon. Yet the forces of hell and darkness only stepped up their attacks. Work took up so much time and my progress was slow. I kept procrastinating and playing games instead. I became discouraged.

Again, a loving hand then reached down and offer aid.

A call from my mother resulted in somehow discussing her experiences at a health retreat she had visited years prior. She talked about her experiences there. It felt like lightning to my mind as I somehow knew that I needed to go there.

Yet, I would need to do it right. I could allow no distractions. I needed a place where in addition to cleansing the outward vessel of my body, I could escape the worldly stresses and influences that so surrounded me.

A holistic, health retreat without TV or internet access where people went to cleanse their body by drinking wheat grass, exercising, doing both colonics & enemas all the while eating only uncooked organic vegan food? A place where there was also a lot of free time for personal study? It was perfect. It wasn’t cheap.

Again in the name of my Savior I prayed to my Heavenly Father.

“Heavenly Father, I feel that this is what I need to do. Get me there and I’ll consecrate my time to study. I won’t bring or read anything but my scriptures. Will you help me get there? Please, oh please help me.”

I began to save my money and I told my mother my plans. She approved but made a suggestion. She gave me a book called “How Great Shall Be Your Joy” by Steven A Cramer and told me how much of a difference it had made in her life when she went through what I was going through. She promised me that if I would read it, it would make a difference in mine. I accepted. That one book would prove a catalyst that would change my life forever. I will always be grateful that my mother convinced me to bring it and more so that this man lived to write it.

It took near three months but finally saved enough and I went. Glorious life giving waters were soon to rush onto land long bereft. The powers of darkness knew this and to my horror I found that it could get even worse. Yet in spite of their power, I planted a very small seed of faith. Then I carefully began to nurture it. It grew and I knew... it was indeed good.

I knew then that I had to repent. Yet I knew not how. As I read the book given by my mother, I began to leap for joy. There! Before my eyes was the answer! I cried as I realized why my first repentance had not succeeded. The Spirit of God bore witness to my soul of the truth in those pages and I finally understood how to repent.

Again I confessed my sins before an authorized representative of the Savior Jesus Christ. Again I forsook them. Again I expressed Godly Sorrow.

I broke my heart and in the name of my Savior I knelt and offered up my very soul.

“Heavenly Father, I don’t want to sin anymore. I’ve confessed and forsaken them. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Yet this time there was one major difference.

“Father, I’m finally willing to go all the way. I understand now that it’s all or nothing. Whatever I have to forsake, whatever I have to do, whatever I have to change, however much it may hurt, however long it make take, I don’t care. I’ll do it. Please! Save me!”

This time the loving hand of my Savior Jesus Christ reached down into my heart and changed me. All along he had been there, leading me, inviting me, guiding me back into His arms.

My prayer was answered.

Like a dam bursting its banks living water flowed onto a sun starved land. Being dead, again I lived. Clouds of darkness were scattered as pure light flowed into my very soul. From the depths of my dark abyss I stood awed as light, love, peace, happiness and even joy, began to fill my soul.

The insurmountable wall that I had failed to conquer crumbled to dust before my feet and I knew freedom. I marveled, I was amazed. The temptations of my sins, through the redeeming power of my Saviors Atonement and grace, were utterly gone. It was a miracle. I was changed. I knew that I was now was walking proof of God’s love and the power of a Savior’s loving mercy. His atonement was real. I was healed.

It was only the beginning. The road has been rocky. There has been further pain. Though healed, there was more healing to come. Other trials still to face. Battles with the forces of darkness continued. I knew they existed and so did they. Fearlessly they continued to assault me. As the Makers touch continues to remake me ever stronger I know that He saved me from Hell. I’ll give up anything he asks, make any sacrifice he requires. I love Him.

Yet if someone were to ask me why, my answer would be this. He loved me first.

[Martain]

I know there is life after death. I know that I am more than my physical flesh. I know there are spirits out there whose intent is to destroy us. I know they seek to destroy me. I have seen and spoken and been touched by such spirits and they no longer dispute who or what they are and whom they serve.

I know that the seed of which the Prophet Alma spoke is both a good and a true seed. I planted that seed, and it continues to bringing forth light, joy and love into my life, such as I had never seen or experienced before. I have planted other seeds and know their worth as well. I know that when I pray, when I read the scriptures, light wells up within me. The pages hold truth. When I pray, I know that He is listening. I pray. I receive answers.

I know I have sinned. I know it was wrong. I have felt godly sorrow and in return, His love and forgiveness. I know I could not and cannot redeem myself. I know I cannot overcome the natural man, overcome sin, by myself. I know because I tried! Oh, how I tried. I hit that wall with all my might, and then wept as I realized that it was impossible for me to overcome. It has taken a power of one far greater than I for that to happen, His name is Jesus Christ.

I testify that there is no other name, or power under earth or heaven, by which I can be redeemed and sanctified. No other way I can be saved. He is the only way. My testimony, my joy, my faith, is this. Christ lives. I have felt my Saviors love for me. He knows my heart and he knows my name.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This is His Church and He leads it still. The fullness of the Gospel has again been restored to the earth in it’s fullness by Joseph Smith who was a true Prophet of God. The Book of Mormon is all that it claims to be. It is another testament of Jesus Christ. It is true. Tomas S. Monson is a Prophet of God and I uphold, love and have great faith in him.

I also know that the Gift of the Ministering of Angels is a very real and powerful gift. It too makes a very real difference in the trials I face.

We are taught that in addition to testifying of truth, one of the roles of the Holy Ghost is the comforter. I know this is true. I have felt such comfort. Since the forces of hell still seek my destruction, I stand in continual need of such comfort. I want you to know that it makes all the difference. It makes all the difference. Life without it is but a pale shadow in comparison. Oh the peace, oh the comfort!

If through my story the Spirit has touched your heart, then I beg you, do what it takes.

Know for yourself.

Plant the seed. Test the promise.

This is my testimony and this is my faith. These are my truths and I paid a very dear price for them.

He paid far more.

This, is my testimony and I am not ashamed of what I know and in whom I trust.

He is Jesus Christ. He lives!

[applepansy]

thank you for sharing your story