I used to be crazy. I lived in my car and was on the verge of being hospitalized for the mental illness that was destroying me. That was three years ago. Now, I am about to graduate, head off to get my Master’s degree at seminary, and am living life to a level I never even knew existed.

Last week I was walking across my campus and I saw someone I hadn’t seen in over two years. Someone also plagued with mental illness and homelessness. Someone I used to see a lot in the places you hang out when you don’t have anywhere to go. Someone I had forgotten about. I was hurrying across campus. … always running late for some place. … wondering why the people in front of me were walking so slowly. Then, I saw why, they were halted by the slow shuffle of this person I had forgotten existed. Someone still trapped in the world I escaped; walking the path I had almost convinced myself never really existed. Suddenly it all came back and I realized what it was like then and fully appreciated what it is like now.

It was hot. It was summer and living in your car doesn’t allow for air conditioning or fans. To sleep with the windows open is to leave yourself vulnerable to violence, yet some nights it was necessary to do just that because the alternative was suffocation. It was having to drive to gas stations in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It was washing your hair and sponge bathing in the sinks of gas station bathrooms. It was shame when people would walk near your car and see the bed in the back seat. It was shame when you saw people you knew from "before … before this is who you became." It was eating Saltine Crackers for lunch and dinner. It was pride, keeping you from taking help that is bound to exist. It was doctors and tests, hospitals and pills … fear, loneliness and despair.

Now it is a future, a college degree and a hope. It is a summer spent overseas ministering to people who understand that not having cable television or a new car is not the predecessor of despair. It is a bed to sleep in, a shower for bathing and a refrigerator full of food. It is a clear mind and freedom from hospitals and pills. It is the understanding that life is precious and you want to live it. It is completing what you never could conceive you were capable of. It is a relationship with the Creator of the universe and the Lord of your life. It is an understanding of Who gave you a second chance. It is knowing that you are no more special than the person next to you, but only for the grace that saved you.

Grace. It’s not a concept you typically understand when you are living a life of agony. In my case, it is something I ran from. Having never really understood the concept of unconditional love, the idea of grace never really sunk in. I was convinced I could make a good life for myself; that I could ensure my own happiness. I could impact the world in profound and wonderful ways. Me, Me, Me. It was all about me. All about what I could do and who I could help. Funny thing is, I couldn’t even help myself. Several times I thought I had my problems taken care of. Each time I would fall again, and each time it seemed to be a little harder to get back up.

Then, I had the opportunity to go and listen to Billy Graham. I had heard him speak before and having grown up in church I had certainly heard the "gospel message." I believed in the Bible and recognized who Jesus Christ was, yet I still believed I was the best person to control my life. I don’t know why I was so compelled to attend the crusade, other than my realization of God’s hand in my life, even when I was pushing Him away. That night I heard the blessed gospel message as only Dr. Graham communicates it, yet I was still not convinced a relationship with God would make any difference. After Dr. Graham finished speaking, the entire audience sang "Awesome God." It amazes me now to realize I had never heard that song before and, as I struggled to figure out what words were being sung, I began to truly understand what they meant. As I sang, "Our God is an Awesome God, He reigns," I realized that He could not truly be my God because He was clearly not reigning in my life! If I recognized He was so awesome and I was so pitiful and pathetic, why in the world did I think I could do a better job than Him?! I will never forget the tingles all through my body as I raised my face, arms and heart in repentance, surrender, and praise to Him.

It seems simple now, looking back on it. I went through so much, struggled so long and so hard, for one simple "Eureka!" Of course I know that God did so much more than that, for Him it was not a one-second connection, it was years of getting me to the place where He could reach down and touch my soul with the understanding of Calvary’s anguish to pay my debt. Almost immediately, the struggles that had plagued me were resolved. I now believe God allowed them so I could fail at saving myself, and He could be glorified for that same deliverance and salvation.

I am not perfect today. I mess up a lot. I still struggle with remembering that Jesus Christ is the Lord of my life, and not Jennifer Lyell. Yet, every day, when I wake up in my air conditioned apartment, drive my car that doesn’t have blankets and pillows in the back seat, or see the nameless faces of those around me who reflect the despair I remember well, I am reminded of the cross and of a crown. Any good that I do is not me; it is that cross, that crown, and God’s grace working in my life.

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In the Southern Illinois University Arena on December 15, in my cap and gown, I won’t be thinking about tests, jobs and student loans. I will be thinking about hot cars, gas station sinks, psychiatrists and a God bigger than them all.