Meeting Jesus in a Teenage Girl’s Diary
October 17, 2025
Faith Story Series — Part Three
This post is part of my Faith Story Series, where I’m sharing how God’s light met me in the wilderness — one chapter at a time.
In Part Two, I shared how growing up between two worlds shaped my heart and my understanding of love. In this next chapter, I return to the moment God first whispered my name — a quiet summer day, a paperback book, and a prayer that changed everything.
A Seed of Salvation
I can still picture it — the hum of summer outside my dad’s house, sunlight streaming through the window, and the calm that came with being in a home filled with peace.
One afternoon, my stepmom handed me a book: Diary of a Teenage Girl by Melody Carlson. I didn’t know it then, but that simple Christian fiction series would become a lifeline.
At that age, my world felt split in two. Life at my mom’s was unpredictable and heavy; life at my dad’s was structured and safe. Somewhere between those two worlds, I felt unseen. Books became my escape — a place where I could live someone else’s story when mine felt too painful.
My dad would joke about how much time I spent reading, but for me, it wasn’t just about stories — it was about survival. That summer, Diary of a Teenage Girl became my anchor.
The Power of a Story
Looking back now, I realize God has always used stories to reach me. Before I ever knew His voice, He spoke through the pages of fiction. The same way Jesus used parables to teach and heal hearts, God used a teenage girl’s diary to meet me in mine.
The main character was real — flawed, curious, searching for God in the middle of her mess. She wasn’t perfect, but she kept turning back to Him. That was new to me. Until then, I thought faith belonged to people who never messed up, like the adults at church who seemed to have it all together. But this story showed me that faith wasn’t about perfection — it was about relationship.
At the time, I couldn’t have explained it this way, but I think I recognized myself in her struggle. She was trying to hold onto faith while the world around her pulled her in the opposite direction. That was me, too.
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” — Psalm 119:105
The Moment on the Hill
I remember finishing that book outside, under a tree on the hill behind my dad’s house — my favorite quiet place. The air was still, the pages smelled like sun and paper, and the words felt alive.
When I reached the final chapter, there it was: the invitation.
“If you want to know Jesus personally…”
My heart started pounding. I didn’t fully understand what salvation meant, but I knew I wanted the peace that girl in the story had found. I wanted to believe that God could love someone like me — messy, unsure, and caught between two worlds.
So there, under that tree, I knelt in the grass and whispered through tears:
“Jesus, I want to know You. Please forgive me. I believe You’re real. I want to follow You.”
It wasn’t scripted or fancy — just honest. I remember adding, “Help me be different. I don’t want to be like my mom. I want to have faith like my dad.”
There were no flashing lights or choirs singing, but I felt something I’d never felt before — stillness. Peace in the place where fear used to live.
“If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” — Romans 10:9
A Quiet Transformation
I didn’t tell anyone at first. It felt sacred, like a secret between me and God. But something inside me shifted.
The world around me stayed the same — my mom’s chaos, the long nights of worry, the sense of walking on eggshells — but my heart carried something new. I started sensing God in the smallest details: a song on the radio, a verse at church, the warmth of sunlight on my face when I prayed.
That summer became the first time I realized what faith actually feels like. It’s not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet and steady — like a whisper that says, “You’re not alone anymore.”
The Battle Between Worlds
Living between two homes made living out my new faith complicated. At my dad’s, faith was everywhere — prayer before meals, Sunday mornings at church, structure that felt safe. But at my mom’s, I felt like a stranger in my own story.
The things that felt sacred at my dad’s — prayer, honesty, obedience — felt out of place in my mom’s house. I often felt guilty for being two different people, never quite fitting in either place. I prayed every night, asking God to make me stronger, but I also carried shame when I failed.
Even then, I think God was teaching me something about perseverance — that faith isn’t proven by perfection, but by holding on when it’s hard.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” — John 1:5
The Vow and the Vision
After reading that book, I made a vow to save myself for marriage. It wasn’t about fear or rules; it was about hope — about believing that my life and body held purpose. That promise became a quiet way of honoring God in a world that didn’t.
It also became a symbol of how I wanted to live — different. Chosen. Set apart.
I didn’t know it then, but God was planting seeds that would later become my calling: to help others find healing, identity, and hope in Him. What started as a child’s prayer under a tree was really the beginning of a lifelong relationship with Jesus.
A Faith That Grows Up
I used to think salvation was a finish line — a single prayer that made everything better. But I’ve learned that it’s really a doorway. You step through once, but then you spend your life walking with Him, learning what grace really means.
That moment under the tree didn’t fix everything, but it planted something unshakable — hope. The kind that kept me steady through storms I hadn’t yet faced.
Now, as an adult, I can look back and see how God’s fingerprints were everywhere — on the book my stepmom gave me, on the words I whispered, on the peace that followed.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” — Romans 8:28
How God Still Speaks Through Story
When I write today — whether it’s a blog post, a caption, or a reflection — I often think about that summer. About the girl who met Jesus through someone else’s story.
That’s what faith storytelling really is: an echo of God’s voice through our words. He still uses stories — both fiction and real life — to remind us that He’s near.
So if you’ve ever wondered whether your story matters, let this be your reminder: it does. God can use even the smallest moments — a book, a conversation, a quiet prayer under a tree — to spark something eternal.
A Moment for You
Take a moment to reflect:
Can you remember when you first felt God drawing you close?
What small “seed moments” has He used in your life to reveal His love?
Where might He be whispering your name even now?
If you’ve never prayed that prayer, you can today. God isn’t waiting for perfect words — just an open heart.
“Jesus, I want to know You. Forgive me for where I’ve wandered. I believe You are who You say You are — my Savior, my peace, my hope. Come into my heart and make me new.”
Scripture Reminders
Romans 10:9 — “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”
Psalm 119:105 — “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
John 1:5 — “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
Romans 8:28 — “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.”
Disclaimer: This reflection shares my personal story and faith journey. It is not professional counseling advice or a substitute for mental-health care. If parts of my story resonate with your own, please reach out to a trusted counselor, pastor, or mental-health professional for support.
With grace and light,
Jess
