I’ve been talking a fair amount about my faith, something not everyone feels comfortable with. But I need to tell you that it’s because my life has in huge ways been affected by my belief in God and his Son Jesus.

At the age of nineteen I spent nine months in a mental institution suffering from psychosis. Although I had heard about God, I had rejected the idea that he could be real. After all, how can you believe in someone you can’t see, hear, or feel? But a time came twenty years later when, still tormented by periods of psychosis, I could no longer ignore him. I realized that I could not carry on without the help of someone much greater than me. I was ready to give God a try.

One Sunday, which I later realized happened to be Easter, I joined three friends when they went to church. I felt okay about going with them, especially since they hadn’t tried to pressure me, or tried to “save me,” which would have put me off.

On this occasion there was a performance by a semi-professional children’s group with wonderful music. I was overwhelmed by it all and broke down in tears. I didn’t know where those tears were coming from but I could not hold them back. Deeply embarrassed, I wished there was a way to leave, but I was sitting near the front. Walking to the back to leave the church would have made my tears doubly obvious.

Nevertheless, although the tears kept coming for many Sundays after, I kept being drawn back to the church until I became a regular attendee. I felt like the woman in the Bible story who was believed to be a prostitute:

A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. (Luke 7:37-38)

How well I could identify with her! I wrote a reflection about it sometime later:

Her tears tumbled down like the tears of a child. In the greatest expression of gratitude, one that she didn’t plan and couldn’t have helped, tears spilled over Jesus’ feet as he was reclining. With love, and in an act of worship, she wiped his feet with her long hair. She kissed them and poured perfume over them. For so long she had been without care or guidance, lost in a world that didn’t care about her as a person.

Those were the emotions that spilled out as Jesus entered my life. I found myself changing after that. Over the years I, who had spent months in a mental institution, gradually became a leader—someone who learned to support others with lived experience. At the Living Room peer support groups I founded, I told them about Christ’s unconditional love for them. Many found healing.

Why am I telling you all this now? It’s because I believe that if God can make such big changes happen in a life like mine, he can make big changes happen elsewhere as well.

I believe that the only hope to be rescued from the chaos of the world today is to place our trust in God—in the way our forefathers did years ago. I pray that people will open their hearts to the love he has for them. It’s available to them all, simply by spending some quiet time with him, earnestly asking him to come in. No fancy words or prayers needed.

If your experience is anything like mine was, that love will fill your heart, leaving you amazed at the change you’ll find in yourself. You will find yourself sharing God’s love with others, not even realizing you’re doing it. Can you imagine what could happen if everyone did this?

And in these times we’re living through today, do we have any greater hope than this? Do we have any greater hope than inviting God’s unconditional love to join us in our world? May we do so and find his peace—one person at a time—as we work our way back to a world where he reigns.

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come.

marja