Introduction
My name is Chris, I’m just an ordinary guy with a desire to share my story with you. I’m reluctant to share it not because I don’t want to but because I don’t think it’s that special; I think it’s common. And as I think about how common my story is, I am compelled to share it because I want others to have a healed heart like I have had and experience lasting peace.
Childhood
There was probably nothing out of the ordinary for most of my childhood. Growing up in Sydney’s inner west during the 90’s meant we weren’t that well off, but we didn’t lack all the essentials. We had enough; old bikes, street cricket, and friends were our main outlets. Things started changing for me at around the age of 9, when mum had noticed I really wasn’t that active on our family holidays and decided to get it checked out; a few tests later I was diagnosed with a disease called Ulcerative Colitis. At that time, I just remember many Dr’s visits, but things kept going more or less as they were. It was 4 years later at the age of 13 I would nearly lose my life to this vicious disease when I had become severely ill somewhat out of nowhere. All I remember is going to the Dr on a Wednesday and then going to hospital on Friday evening for a major surgery. The disease had done so much damage that I was rushed to an emergency operation as my whole body was shutting down, and the only option was removal of damaged tissue. The operation was successful but my parents had to wait a full week before I woke up; my body was in shock and being in a coma was my body’s way of dealing with what had happened. I didn’t know how fortunate I was then to be alive. I was just a young 13-year-old trying to stay alive.
Teenage time
Recovering from trauma at any age isn’t easy. I didn’t know what I was going through; I was just trying to get better. The initial recovery after leaving hospital was quick, but the cycle of ups and downs from the disease still meant life was never going to be “normal.” I never felt like I fitted in, not that it was a conscious realization then, but I just remember trying to fit in with the groups at school, without much success. I was different; medication changed my moods, and having to spend much of my lived experience trying to “get better” kind of meant I wouldn’t fit in. All I wanted was to leave school, and by the time I had finished year 10, that’s what I did. I didn’t know at the time what I wanted; I just followed whatever would make my painful existence better.
By the time I left school, I didn’t really have a plan or a job to go into. I just didn’t want to be at school. I gave a few jobs a go, but most weren’t long-lasting and most ended in shame for not being able to do the job because I ended up in hospital as a result of how sick I had become. I had a stable enough job working in fast food by the age of 17, which meant I was able to move out of home. Home wasn’t that pleasant really; in fact, my dad left a few months after I did after many years of holding it together for the kids (at least that’s what it looked like). I thought things would be better. Being out of home meant I had responsibilities, but it meant I could do what I liked when I liked. I never had lasting relationships. I think partly because I was so selfish—I was in it for what I could get, not what I could give—which resulted in a build-up of guilt. During this time, my dependence on drugs was probably not unlike many of the day, but for me it was more about relief than anything else. Work was enjoyable, and as a manager I had good prospects; however, the old disease (now diagnosed as Crohn’s Disease after the major operation) crippled me again and sent me to hospital, which left me dejected and hopeless.
Late teens
Having no health meant no job, and no job meant no place to live, so my brother and his wife kindly took me in. After only being out of home for around 10 months, I wasn’t in a great head space. I wasn’t ready to go home yet; I was still hurting from the loss of so much, and I didn’t think going home would have been any better. I’m grateful for the sacrifice my brother and sister-in-law made for me. Helping someone who is sick, dependent on substances of addiction, and depressed wouldn’t have been easy on them, but they did it. It was about a few months after my brother had done all he could that I moved back to mum’s. While my health wasn’t any better (probably worse) than when I had left home, I found comfort in our old family dog “Sandy,” and it was less of a strain to be there without dad around. Again, I was heartbroken when old “Sandy” had become too old. The right thing to do was the hardest thing for us to go through, and we had to put her down due to old age. I think the pain at this point from the loss of something special just compounded my hurt. Not only had I no comfort, I had no joy, little family, and now no companion.
I was in pain, and like times past, I wanted to escape it. Drug dependence, depression, and sickness were all I had to look forward to. I remember thinking towards the end of 2003, if only I could get away, maybe the cycle could break. We had grown up going on our yearly 2-week holiday, and this year I just wanted to get there. I finally made it away, and a family friend offered to explain to me the book of Daniel in the Bible. I really didn’t know what to expect, only that I wanted to change my life, but how? We had grown up going to church, Sunday school, and hearing about Jesus, but it all seemed like a far-away story to me that had little to no significance in my life. It was when someone explained to me the importance that the book of Daniel shows us we can trust the Bible as truth. It was then and there that I believed the Gospel. While I didn’t know what I would do or what my life would become, I knew from this point on I had something in my heart for which I was longing.
Looking back, I can see how I was always searching for something to take the edge off the pain – both physical and emotional. The temporary highs from substances might have dulled things for a few hours, but I’d wake up the next day to the same reality, often feeling worse than before. It was like trying to fill a leaking bucket – no matter how much I poured in, I’d end up empty again. What I didn’t understand then was that I wasn’t just looking for relief from symptoms; I was looking for something that could heal me at my deeper level.
Peace at last
All I was looking for was lasting peace and hope, and I had finally found it. Everything up until this point had been a short-term fix. Even though there was relief from pain and suffering before this point, it was only temporary. Now I had hope, and I had something that lasted and that would change everything. I was just 19, and Jesus had met my greatest need (and he wants to meet yours too!). I had hope and could now keep going even if I wasn’t any healthier. I didn’t know what to fully expect of life from that point on, but I wanted to experience more of that hope that had transformed my heart. Because of this hope, I walked away from looking to temporary fixes that didn’t last (drugs and alcohol) and wanted to follow more of the way that brought me so much joy and peace. The years that directly followed my change of heart would still be filled with pain and sickness, but I never again experienced the hopelessness I did prior to that point. My health really didn’t improve a whole lot during my 20’s. It was just as up and down, and I was in and out of hospital; like any chronic disease, it was still a battle to survive. Nevertheless, the period between my 20’s and 30’s were filled with many milestones. Getting married, going to uni, having children were all so many precious things I never thought I would ever do, but because I had hope, these things and more were possible.
Before finding my faith, my identity was wrapped up in my disease and limitations. I was ‘the sick kid,’ ‘the dropout,’ someone who couldn’t hold down a job. I measured my worth by what I couldn’t do rather than what I could. But when Jesus met me where I was, something changed. I began to see myself not defined by my disease but as someone loved and valued despite my struggles. This new identity didn’t mean the physical challenges disappeared, but it changed how I faced them. I started asking different questions – not just ‘How can I feel better today?’ but ‘What purpose might I serve, even with these limitations?’ Each milestone – marriage, education, fatherhood – wasn’t just an achievement against the odds but evidence that my purpose extended far beyond my physical condition.
And this struggle with identity isn’t unique to me – it’s why I believe my story is so common. We all wrestle with who we are and where we fit in. Some people struggle with physical limitations like me, others with broken relationships, financial hardships, or internal battles no one else can see. But we’re all looking for the same thing – to know we matter, to believe our lives have meaning beyond our circumstances. That’s why finding my identity in something bigger than myself changed everything. It wasn’t that my problems vanished; it was that they no longer defined me or limited what I could become. My circumstances hadn’t changed, but I had – and in finding my true identity, I had found peace at last.
The test of time
At the age of writing, I am now 40 years old, and I can’t believe the things that have changed since that point in my life 20 years ago. The peace that came from trusting Jesus has endured the test of time. My heart has been in a continual process of healing, for which I am so grateful. Jesus has met my greatest need, not my present desires. Some might think it strange that I am now happy with a chronic disease and ok that I haven’t been physically healed. My answer is simple: my greatest need wasn’t the disease in my body, it was the disease of sin in my heart, and I am grateful that need has been met and is continually met because Jesus does love me. And yet as I conclude, I recognize the struggle that so many have in changing their “ways” or getting a “fresh start,” and count my story common because I am like so many who have broken hearts and are longing for healing. I humbly submit to you that this same hope I have is offered to you and can change your life too. I love the verse where Jesus says, “I have come that they might have life and life more abundantly,” because Jesus doesn’t say life would be easy; he said that He would be with us and help us every step of the way.
Read more. What does it mean to trust in Jesus?