If you had told me years ago that I would be ministering to people, I wouldn’t have believed you.

I used to think I wasn’t good enough for God to use, let alone qualified to speak on His behalf. But I’ve learned that God isn’t looking for perfect people to use for His glory, and He doesn’t need or expect us to have it all together. He meets us in the middle of our mess and makes something beautiful from our brokenness.

I grew up in church, attending at least twice a week. But I don’t remember feeling God’s love there. The messages I recall were filled with hellfire and damnation. They made me fear constantly that I didn’t measure up.

I walked to the altar more Sundays than I could count to make sure God and I were good. But by Monday morning, I already felt like a failure.

Seeds of guilt, fear, and shame had taken root deep within me, and I was convinced that I had failed God.

It didn’t help that I had undiagnosed ADHD. At school, I couldn’t keep my desk clean, I turned in messy, unfinished work, and was often paddled in front of the class for talking too much. A spanking at school meant another one at home.

Outside of school, I had few friends. I was rarely invited back to sleepovers. One girl told me it was because I got on her mother’s nerves. I felt out of place everywhere.

When I was 15, I was chosen for a traveling singing group from my church. I was excited, and for the first time, I felt hopeful that maybe I was “good enough.” But then I confided in a friend about experimenting with marijuana, and she told a leader. I was kicked out of the group. Our family left the church shortly after.

That moment of honesty became a defining moment. It confirmed what I feared most: I didn’t belong—not in church, and certainly not with God.

That same year, my mom left my father. We moved into low-income housing, and I began working full-time at a grocery store to help Mom make ends meet.

At 17, I became pregnant. Terrified and ashamed, I made the devastating decision to have an abortion. The hardest part was telling my mom—my only consistent source of human love.

I expected judgment, maybe even rejection, but instead, Mom wrapped me in her arms and cried with me. She extended undeserved mercy and grace like I’d never known. But I couldn’t accept either for myself, nor could I imagine that God would offer the same. I know now that the grace flowing through her came from Jesus.

When I was 18, my mom met and quickly married a man who turned out to be abusive. Two years later, at 40, she became pregnant and was then diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. Doctors recommended an abortion to save her life, but she chose to trust God and carry the baby. Watching her fight for her baby’s life reminded me of what I had taken from my own. I felt so ashamed.

In due time, she gave birth to a healthy daughter and began chemotherapy. My stepfather, who often used religion as a weapon, told me that if I had enough faith, God would heal my mother. But three years later, she passed.

Her death dug a deeper hole in my guilt-filled heart. If I’d only had more faith, Mom would still be alive, I told myself. I was sure her death was my fault.

I got married just before my mother passed. My husband and I had two beautiful daughters and began attending church, hoping to instill moral values. But the church was more of a social club, and many leaders lived double lives. I grew bitter toward religion and began to question if God even existed at all.

Later, my husband’s promotion took us to a new city. I worked long hours as a nurse, desperately trying to keep it together, and became quite homesick. Things changed when a coworker invited me to church, and despite my previous experiences, I decided to go.

The moment I walked into her church, something stirred in my soul. The worship was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I could feel God’s presence and love.

One Sunday, a year later, the pastor preached on Ephesians 6:4: “[Parents] do not exasperate your children…by the way you treat them” (NLT). The scripture convicted me, as I knew I’d been provoking my daughters, pressuring them to become the perfect girls I’d never been.

That day, I surrendered everything to God—marriage, career, children, and my quest for perfection. Lying face down on the floor, I begged Jesus to show me who He really was. Suddenly, I recalled my mother. I saw her with arms opened wide, full of love, grace, and acceptance.

I joined a women’s Bible study and dove into God’s Word. I journaled and listened for His voice. His Word came alive within me, and my heart revived as I learned about His goodness and faithfulness. For the first time, I saw that God was not frustrated with me or judging me as a failure. He loved me and longed to free me from the many lies I believed about Him and myself.

As I matured, I was invited to teach. One class led to another, and soon I had a small group of women regularly attending my studies. But over time, my identity became wrapped up in teaching, and I became prideful. A wise pastor encouraged me to step back. Though it was hard, I listened.

Two months later, social services asked my husband and me to take temporary custody of two children from someone we dearly loved. One was a toddler, the other a baby. Our lives changed overnight.

That season was extremely difficult for us and pushed my husband and me to the edge. The children had significant emotional and developmental needs, and we were in our fifties. I worked full time while trying to care for them. Challenging though it was, we were eventually granted permanent custody.

We each coped in different ways. My biggest coping mechanism was control. I tried desperately to fix situations and to protect those I loved. I also tried to make everyone turn to the Lord for help. But in doing so, I pushed my loved ones away from both me and God.

One child’s needs became so intense that we were told they might never function in a traditional school setting. I switched my job to part time, and began homeschooling and searching for answers. Then one day, someone mentioned a specialized school that offered the exact support we needed. God whispered, “I see you. I’ve got this situation.”

But still, my marriage suffered under the weight of it all. When our youngest turned 18, I decided the most loving thing I could do was leave my husband. So, after 44 years of marriage, I put that relationship in God’s hands and walked away. It was the wake-up call we both needed.

Three months later, with counseling and surrender and a lot of hard work, we reunited. Today, because of God’s goodness, our marriage is stronger than ever. We are retired, enjoying each other’s presence, and serving and worshipping the Lord together. God restored what I thought was lost.

Life was finally going along smoothly, until about three years ago, when I was diagnosed with mild cognitive impairment. I was crushed and cried out to God, “Why?” But then I heard CeCe Winans sing “The Goodness of God.”

The lyrics reached deep into my soul, reminding me that all my life, despite my choices, God had been faithful to me. I wept as memories of His faithfulness washed over me. At a conference soon after, I saw a pillow with the same words. I felt like God kissed me through that moment. He hadn’t left me—He was right there, reminding me, whispering, “I have always been with you, Margaret.” (See Isaiah 41:10; Matthew 28:20.)

I don’t know what my future holds. It is becoming more difficult to think, plan, and remember. But with each challenge, I am becoming more dependent on God and more determined to declare His faithfulness. As long as I have breath, I want to tell people everywhere how good God is, and that He is still there, loving and caring for them and desiring to know and use them.

I hope you know that this good news includes you. You are not your worst mistake. You are not damaged goods. As you’ve seen, I’m not perfect, but Jesus still chose me—not because I was good, but because He is good.

Romans 5:8 reveals an amazing truth. It says, “God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (NLT). God sent His Son, Jesus, to die for us before we ever got one thing right. His love runs that deep! He never gives up on us—not even when we give up on Him.

If you don’t know personally how faithful and good God is, I hope that today you will open your heart to receive Him. Just ask: “Jesus, show me who You are.” He will.

Don’t worry, you don’t have to clean up first. Come just as you are. He’s already made a way for you to be clean, and He will accept you. He is ready to rewrite your story like He did mine.

God turned this broken, insecure, legalistic, shame-filled woman into a living testament of His grace. He can do that for you, too.

Margaret Mangum serves at her local church and volunteers with Victorious Living, writing letters to the incarcerated and sharing her story in jail and prison. She’s a wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother who makes the goodness of God known to all.