When that early morning text from my friend lit up my phone, I was half-asleep and fully confused. Happy National First Love Day? Wait—what?? And then it hit me.
My First Love… Jesus!
Not gonna lie, I had a full emotional meltdown. Ugly crying. Couldn’t breathe. The whole dramatic movie montage. Because somewhere between adulting and isolating, I had totally forgotten about Him — the One who had always been there. The One I used to talk to about everything.
I remembered how I once told God I’d be His last soldier standing, defending His Word like a spiritual ninja. But there I was… years later, MIA from the battlefield, ghosting prayer time, and calling myself a Christian only when it felt convenient.
Let’s just say, conviction came in hot.
The next few days? I basically went off the grid. Called in sick for almost a week. Couldn’t eat anything but soup — not because I was being dainty, but because solid food made me wanna throw up. I wrapped myself in a blanket like a sad burrito and just wept. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion — my spirit felt shattered.
Then, one day when I felt barely human again, I dragged myself out for food. On the way, I passed a Goodwill and thought, “I need a Bible. Right now. Like, spiritually-CPR me, please.” I walked in, dug through some dusty shelves, and found a seriously tattered Bible — one dollar. Sold. I also found a Michael W. Smith CD with the song I once dedicated to Edwin: “Somewhere, Somehow.” Like… what are the odds?
I headed home with my Goodwill treasures. When I opened that Bible, I was shocked — worn and beat up on the outside, but the inside? Flawless. It hit me:
“This Bible is me. A little rough on the outside, but inside? Jesus is making all things new.”
And just like that, I was hooked. I devoured the Word like I hadn’t eaten in years. Prayed like I was catching up on a lifetime of missed conversations. I confessed, forgave, wept again (but this time with peace), and started singing worship songs like my soul remembered how to breathe.
Evening walks with Jesus became my new favorite ritual. Just me, my earbuds, and some solid Christian tunes as the sun set. For the first time in a long time, I felt… whole.
Eventually, I got brave and hopped back on social media. Not for selfies — but to share the gospel. I started connecting with fellow believers for Sunday fellowship. And when I visited my parents in the Philippines? Oh, you best believe I wouldn’t shut up about God’s grace. They were hesitant at first, but something had shifted — they listened a little longer each time.
And then…
One ordinary day, while doing my usual post-walk wind-down, my phone buzzed.
“Hi Grace, this is Edwin.”
Yep. Him. My first love on earth… right after my First First Love.
And suddenly, the story wasn’t over. It was just beginning again — this time, with Jesus at the center.
