Just seven days before she was due to walk down the aisle, Hope Bonarcher found herself in a hospital bed after attempting to take her own life. In this deeply honest and hope-filled article, Hope shares how one Christian woman’s grace-filled response became a turning point in her healing, and how God later used her own pain to bring hope and comfort to someone else.
I was meant to be getting married in a week. Instead, I was vomiting up charcoal in a hospital bed. How had things spun so drastically out of control in such a short space of time?
My fiancé and I had the sweetest courtship story. We met just before Christmas, and I almost immediately discovered he was a Christian. He wouldn’t date me because I wasn’t. Feeling offended rather than rejected, I became curious and started pursuing God on my own.
January was barely half over before I was born again. I knew that I knew Jesus was real, alive and calling me to follow him. Saying yes was the best decision I ever made. And, in that great whirlwind of changed eternity, I also said yes to the proposal from the man of my dreams. Our wedding date was set for just four months later.
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Some things change immediately when you become a Christian; other things happen much more gradually.
Some things change immediately when you become a Christian; other things happen much more gradually. There’s the instant transformation of salvation, and then there’s the lifelong process of sanctification. Our faith is so personal and intricate that no two experiences are exactly the same.
I was overwhelmed by the purpose and clarity that following Jesus gave my life, and alongside a fairytale romance, I felt as though I was living in a dream. But just beneath the surface, toxic relational patterns from my past still remained.
When my fiancé and I had a serious argument and he walked out, I made a dramatic, life-threatening choice: I swallowed a bottle of painkillers.
This wasn’t my first overdose. It was part of a pattern of making desperate decisions whenever I felt trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. It would take years for me to truly grasp the scriptural truth that God is faithful to show us a way out of every temptation. But that night, I simply lay there, waiting to fall asleep and check out.
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My fiancé unexpectedly returned to his flat. Seeing my groggy state and the empty pill bottle, he rushed me to hospital. I was treated quickly and suffered no lasting physical damage, although the doctor warned there could easily have been catastrophic consequences.
My fiancé was shocked and angry. I felt ashamed and utterly broken. Neither of us knew what to say to the other. We still wanted to get married, but the journey from being discharged from hospital to exchanging vows felt impossibly steep.
Sixteen years later, I don’t remember much about that night, except my fiancé suggesting I speak to Helen.
A sculptor and art therapist, Helen was one of the wonderful new friends I’d inherited through my soon-to-be husband. Her personality was warm and light-hearted. She laughed often and still seemed newly excited about Jesus, even though she’d been a Christian far longer than I had.
Despite the chaos of the previous 24 hours, talking to her felt safe. I didn’t know what to expect from our conversation. Like most Christians in my life, Helen and I barely knew each other. What do you say to someone whose first question should have been, “Are you excited for your wedding next week?” Instead, I found myself saying, “I tried to overdose last night.”
Even now, I vividly remember Helen’s caring, compassionate response. She didn’t point a finger or rush to offer solutions. Instead, she listened faithfully. As a brand-new believer in an incredibly fragile place, the grace and kindness she showed reflected the heart of Jesus – loving, gentle and completely unsurprised by my weakness. Helen came to our wedding the following week and remains a treasured friend today, even though an ocean now separates us.
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Last year, I found myself remembering Helen’s godly counsel when another Christian friend, Charity, sent me a long, unexpected text.
Last year, I found myself remembering Helen’s godly counsel when another Christian friend, Charity, sent me a long, unexpected text. Her marriage, which had looked fun and enviable from the outside, was falling apart. There were hidden sins and life-shattering revelations. Overwhelmed and at the end of her rope, she reached out asking for prayer and help. We spoke on the phone and had a long, honest conversation. I was able to listen, pray, encourage her and speak the truth in love.
Later, Charity told me that I’d talked her back from the edge. Not literally, but in a very real sense. Fifteen years after Helen had shown me the grace and gentleness I desperately needed, I was able to pass that same comfort on to Charity.
The Bible says: “God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4).
Perhaps you’re discovering that following Jesus doesn’t shield us from profound hardship. If so, choose three things: know and trust God’s Word, let him lead you out of temptation as your living hope, and humbly share your burdens with a trusted friend.
God will give you the grace to endure your trials, and, one day, he may use your story to bring hope and comfort to someone else’s darkest moment.
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