My Testimony: Written Down for the First Time

I’ve never written my testimony down before, but here it is, for the first time in words. It’s already been written in my heart for years, but I feel compelled to share it with you now—hoping that my story will inspire you, give you hope, and help increase your faith in Him, the author and finisher of our faith.

Lord, there were moments when my heart was heavy with anger, when I couldn’t understand why pain and loss seemed to overwhelm my life. Even as a child, I knew You were there—I heard Your voice, I felt Your presence, and every time I called out to You, You answered. But in the storms of life, in the deepest moments of despair, I struggled to see Your hand. I wondered why the heartache, the loss, and the confusion were allowed to enter my life.

We lost so much. We lost our precious son, Daniel. We lost family members and dear friends to tragedy, sickness, and disease. We lost jobs, homes, and even the sense of stability that we held onto so tightly. Piece by piece, it felt like everything we built was taken, leaving us to rebuild from the dust, from nothing. Our daughters, Hannah and Bethany, were there with us through it all—witnessing both the pain and the strength we drew from You.

In those moments, I turned my frustration and anger toward You, questioning, doubting, and even accusing.

But here’s the truth that I now see so clearly: You are not the One who brings harm. You are the One who redeems, who restores, and who moves in ways that go beyond our understanding. Even when it felt like the foundation of my faith was cracking under the weight of my grief, You held it firm. You never let go.

I see now that You were always there, guiding me through every valley, through every tear and sleepless night. You were positioning me for a victory I couldn’t yet imagine. I wanted to give up. People told me to walk away from my faith, to stop speaking of Your goodness because my circumstances seemed too heavy. But Your truth was planted so deeply in me that even in my weakest moments, it refused to be uprooted.

Now I stand on the other side of that pain—stronger, wiser, filled with a peace that only You can give. I realize that even in those darkest times, You were at work, moving mountains I couldn’t see. You were shifting things, aligning things, preparing me for a victory beyond my wildest dreams.

And then, when sickness came knocking on my door, when Crohn’s disease tried to claim my body and I thought I was on the brink of death, You showed up again. You healed me completely. You cured me when I felt like hope was slipping away, and for that, Lord, I will never stop giving You thanks. I will shout of Your goodness because You are faithful, even when I couldn’t see it.

Every step of the way, You’ve proven that Your plans are greater than my pain, Your love is stronger than any storm, and Your healing is more powerful than any disease. Thank You, Lord, for never leaving me, for always turning the ashes of my life into something beautiful. I will forever testify of Your miraculous hand in my life, and I know that the best is yet to come.

Why I’m Sharing This Now

I felt led to share my testimony in writing for the first time. It’s been with me, written on my heart for years, but I’ve never put it into words like this before. It’s not always easy to relive those painful moments, but I believe it’s important to share because I know there are others who are walking through the same storms—feeling lost, angry, and unsure if God is still with them.

He is. I want to encourage you to hold on. Even when everything around you is falling apart, He is there, working behind the scenes in ways you can’t yet see. He is a God of restoration, a God who turns our mourning into joy, and our brokenness into something beautiful.

Closing Thoughts

If you’re going through a season of doubt, pain, or loss, I encourage you to hold on. God is with you even when you can’t see it. Feel free to share your own story in the comments or pass this along to someone who might need to hear it today.

—Joshua L Mullins