Jeremy L. Berg

I didn’t always feel that way.

I came to the United States to attend a small state college.

I planned to go on to medical school. My first year of college was perfect. I was getting great grades, and I had a girlfriend and lots of friends. And I was quick to point out to people that I had all of this without relying on anyone but me.

I knew plenty of Christians. In fact, I read the Bible often, just so I could argue with Christians. I wanted to know what they believed so I could break down their reasons for believing. For example, my biophysics professor was a Christian. He would tell me about the miracles in his life, the ways he supposedly saw God’s work in the world. But I thought he was way off. I’d argue with him, and try to convince him he was foolish to believe in Jesus. His faith was a joke to me.

It didn’t take long for God to change my mind. During my junior year of college, everything in my world started to fall apart. My girlfriend broke up with me, I ran out of money and I had to drop out of school. So much for having it made. I thought about going back to my family in Sri Lanka, but I didn’t want to face them when I’d failed so miserably.

One night, I sat in the college library, trying to come up with ways to get out of my situation. The only solution that seemed “reasonable” was suicide. But as I sat there thinking of the best way to kill myself, I heard a voice say, “Have you ever asked me for help?”

Read more of Sam’s story here.