LIVING AND LOVING IN THE BEYOND | KAIROS GLOBAL | AUGUST 2026

Author: Anon

Audio:https://open.spotify.com/episode/5h8srkDo8uEtXl1zuTrpy1

Intro: How do you escape a pain- and fear-riddled past, particularly when that has been your childhood? How do you move on without that wearying baggage? This author, who wishes to remain anonymous, tells us how.

Nothing in my life has gone the way I wanted. 

Everything has turned out much better than I had hoped. 

As an author, I delight in a well-written story, one where the characters are relatable, the premise is unique, and, much as I try to, I cannot figure out the plot until the very end. 

Yet, as I live out the story that the Author of Life writes for me, along with me, I have so often wished that the characters were better behaved, the premise a little more normal, and the plot explained to me in great detail, since I am the one living it. But, no, that is not how discipleship works, is it?

From a very young age, I knew that something was terribly wrong, but I had no vocabulary to express that to myself or to anyone else. So, for 18 years, I kept a secret that I had hidden from everyone except two adults – a nun in school and a doctor who was treating me. Their reactions made me realise that it was better to keep this a secret than the reality of no one believing it. I resigned myself to the fact that telling this truth, rather than protecting me, would only cause more harm. So, I put on a figurative mask each day, as I stepped out into the world, pretending that everything was ok. And when the mask was not enough to hide the pain, long-sleeved shirts would help to cover the physical bruises. Once I was out in the world, indeed, everything was ok. 

For the first 18 years of my life, I had learned to cope with physical, emotional, verbal and sexual abuse by telling myself that I would study hard, get a job and get out of that place. I wanted to work hard and leave on my own terms, so that I could take the credit for saving myself. Little did I know that God was actively working out my salvation story all along.  

When I look back on many terrifying, violent memories, now as an adult, I can see the same situations in a completely different light. 

As a child, I felt completely alone, always in fight or flight mode, and never safe to be just a child – except in my grandmother’s house. I thought that God was completely unapproachable because, of course, God must be far more important than the parish priest, the bishop, and the Pope. If they had no time to see what was going on in my life, then certainly, God, although good, loving and able, was not saving my little self; He was too busy with more important things. 

But as an adult, as I replay those vivid memories, I realise that in so many situations I have lived through, it would not have been possible for a small child to escape physically towering adults and live to tell the tale. Unless God was right there with me, leading me by the hand, out of innumerable near-death occasions. In addition to facing violence behind four walls, as a child, I had been hospitalised twice, bitten by a monkey, hit by a charging bull and almost drowned. 

Pain and the ever-near possibility of death were my closest childhood companions, and ill health only kept them well connected. On a few occasions when I was close to taking my own life, my grandmother's face would flash before me. I couldn’t bear the thought of causing her any grief. For she had sheltered me, fed me, clothed me, hugged me, taught me and kept me safe for as much as she possibly could. My grandmother was the first person in my life to show me God’s agape love. 

One night, when I was clearly told that I would be thrown out of the fourth-floor window that night, the Lord decided that it was the night of my exodus – not just from that 18-year-old living situation but from a life of hiding pain under long-sleeved shirts and a face of fake cheerfulness. 

When I awoke the next morning in a friend's home, the first thought that entered my mind was: no one will ever hit me again. And praise be to God, I can testify that almost three decades later, my husband and in-laws have never tried to harm me in any way. For a year after I ran away, I lived in different people’s houses through God’s provision, and then, a plot twist: my boyfriend’s aunt proposed that we get married; even our love marriage was divinely arranged.

And so we got married when I was 19 years and 7 months old. 

I lived in a joint family with my in-laws, who fully supported me as I completed my graduation and began working in my dream job. 

All over India, so many married women suffer brutal violence at the hands of their in-laws, and here I was, with not just 1, not just 2, not 3 but 5 doting mothers-in-law. One of them stitched warm bedsheets for me, another made my favourite fish for me, and one taught me how to cook, starting with the simplest recipes. They had absolutely no reason to love me – I came to them without a degree, a job, money, any useful skills at home or outside, or even a full set of clothes. Moreover, I had been maligned by many who presumed I was getting married at 19 because I was pregnant. I was not even from their lingual community, much less from class or culture. They had so many really good reasons to reject me; and only one to accept me: I was so needy of their love and so open to it.

But receiving a loving family and a place I could finally call home was only step 1 of God’s plan for me. He wanted me to be part of His family and get home to heaven. And for that, I needed to get out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. Living in survival mode for close to two decades had made me hard-hearted and cynical. I was angry with God and wanted to grab Him by the collar, make Him look me in the eye and answer me: why did you allow an innocent child to go through what I did?

But, what’s a testimony without a test?

What’s a message without a mess?

What’s a story without the heartbreak and losses?

When I finally confronted God about where He was throughout my childhood and youth, He had a chance to show me three things:

1. where I was – at the end of my rope of living my life my way

2. who He is – sovereign, all-good, all-loving, all-powerful

3. and how much I needed Him – just to be able to get out of bed and live a normal day

   
   

At the age of 22, my life looked picture-perfect: I was married to my best friend, a truly loving husband; I had the best in-laws; I was working in my dream job; and I was enjoying my youth and comparatively good health. Yet, I was so angry, so resentful, so much in pain from the past that I could not forgive nor enjoy the present fully. I struggled with nightmares, with fainting episodes, with outbursts of rage. 

Jesus, the Author of my life, graciously allowed me to try writing my life story my way first. And when my way was certainly not getting me anywhere, He revealed Himself to me in such a tangible way that nothing that came before or after that could ever dissuade me from the fact that this all-loving, all-good, all-powerful God was passionately, busy loving me.

I never expected that saying YES to Jesus would bring me anything good. I was just so used to living in pain. 

I said YES to Him because He loves me. 

And I need to be loved by Him in the ways that only He could love me. So, I was in for the long haul – bouquets or brickbats – I was in for life.

After saying Yes to Jesus, I have suffered even more than I did before: endometriosis, infertility, miscarriage, caregiver burnout from being responsible for myself, 6 of our elders with serious illnesses and now two teenage children. Our marriage has seen more bad days than good, more sickness than health, yet Christ is alive and the head of our home. 

I have lived 22 years in the kingdom of darkness – in both destructive and supportive environments. And I have lived 24 years in the kingdom of light – with both unbelievable miracles and crosses impossible to carry on my own. Good times and bad have been aplenty in both kingdoms. 

So I do not carry on in this relationship with Jesus and His church to get anything good. I carry on, with great excitement as the plot thickens, the stakes get higher, and the tension is palpable, knowing that, no matter how much more suffering comes, it will all work out for my good. 

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28)

I was homeless, but God made me a co-owner of our own home in Mumbai. 

I was abused, but God gave me my husband and in-laws to love me. 

I was childless, but God gave me two beautiful children. 

I was very sick from an incurable disease called endometriosis, but God healed me.

I was penniless, but God provided for my every need.

I have failed again and again in so many things in life, but God still succeeds in working His will in and through me. 

Nothing in my life has gone the way I wanted. 

Everything has turned out much better than I had hoped.