When I was 12, I desperately wanted to be a Christian.

I prayed and prayed for God to accept me, to love me, to see me, but nothing worked.

When I opened my Bible, all I read was how wrong I was.

I felt this overwhelming feeling of judgment and condemnation. I would go to church and

beg for release, for God to save me, but the feelings of self-contempt and hate only grew.

I could not shake this belief that something at the core of me was unlovable. There seemed to be this insurmountable gap between me and God.

Around this time I started to really get into music. I still remember the first CDs I purchased.

Hooty and the Blowfish and the Counting Crows. Side note, my musical selection has changed drastically since then.

But I devoured these albums, listening to them as much as I could.

I read the liner notes and tried to understand every song.

Music became a safe place for me.

It allowed me to express what I really felt.

It would take me decades to unroot the reasons behind my feelings of such unworthiness and

filth, and to finally realize that those feelings were not my fault.

There were horrible seasons of depression, self-hate, and loneliness.

But in each valley, music never left me. The musicians in their songs

surrounded me and led me to a more loving understanding of myself and my savior. I can continue to

marvel at the storytellers in our first five episodes, and not just their bravery to speak against

such darkness, which is remarkable.

But by sharing their stories, they're building healing bridges for abuse victims to cross to safety

and to the love of the true king in his kingdom. And by doing this, we all get to bear witness

to the beauty and richness of the gospel.

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