I grew up in a Christian home in Manado, Indonesia. The second of three children, I lived a fairly normal life until I was about 19 years old. After enrolling in a Christian University to study theology, my parents unexpectedly divorced, and my Dad abandoned our family. As my world was crumbling around me, I began to question my faith. After getting drunk one night on Cap Tikus, a typical Mandonese booze, I was gang raped by a group of 13 senior students at my school. The abuse continued beyond that night—for about a year and a half. Though I was initially scared and confused by my feelings, eventually, I began to enjoy gay sex. That’s when I decided to embrace gay culture and sexuality fully. Soon I became addicted to drugs and sex, to the point that I began to pimp young girls and also prostitute myself as a “ladyboy” just to support my hedonistic habits. Even though my counselor warned me that I was headed down a dangerous path, I ignored his advice, and my life spiraled downward. In all, I lived life as a “transgender woman” for about seven years. At one point, I considered surgical procedures and pharmaceuticals, but I could never seem to save enough money to go through with any treatments or surgeries. As fast as I made it, I would spend it on drugs and sex. But it didn’t matter. My hair grew long, and my body became tiny, and everyone thought I really was a girl. 

During those years, I felt free and didn’t really care about the opinions of others. I felt respect from many people who didn’t judge me and just accepted me for who I was. But despite the affirmation I received from many friends, I felt empty on the inside. Honestly, my life had become so gripped by sin that I thought it was too late to come back to God. My family had quit advising me, and I believed no one could help me. So I rebelled even further. Might as well go all the way to the bottom, I thought. At one point, I overdosed on drugs, and my lungs were in horrible condition. The doctor said that I might not live more than a month, but through prayer, I was healed. You would think that brush with death would have been my wake-up call, but after recovery, I fell again to my old vices: drugs, clubs, and sex. That’s when God intervened. 

I was on a boat from Manado to Tahuna with my mom and my stepfather in late 2009. Suddenly, in the middle of the sea, a ferocious storm arose. We were being tossed by strong waves and wind. I remember it was 9 p.m. when all of a sudden, the boat lunged to the left and then to the right, bursting open the doors on the second deck. Gripped with fear, people were screaming and crying. This continued for at least eight hours. Half of the passengers’ belongings were thrown into the sea, and the light on the boat began to dim. Donning life jackets, we were prepared to jump at the crew’s orders. It was that bad. Many of the passengers were singing worship songs over and over. But the only thing I could think about were my sins. It was as if every sin I’d ever committed was flashing before my eyes as if I was watching a movie of my life. But then I felt something in my heart encourage me to pray. “Lord,” I said, “I know I have sinned, but I don’t want to see my mom suffer because of me. I beg you, Lord, even if I have to die, let my mom live. However, if you are willing, I beg you to save us from this trial, and I promise you, I will return, repent, and serve you all of my life.” When I opened my eyes, I could see clearly at the end of the boat there was a figure wearing white clothing walking around the edge of the boat with one hand touching the edge and the other hand on the wall of the boat. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Don’t be afraid; trust Me. No one will be harmed.”

That incident brought me back to God. He changed my life, restored me, and gave me hope for the future. Because I’d never had any surgical procedures, I was able to begin living as a man immediately. I cut my hair and threw out my women’s clothing soon after I was saved. Emotionally, however, the journey took a little longer. My friends slowly drifted away from me, and though this made me sad, I understood that the decision to live a new life would be accompanied by struggles. I received counseling from my pastor and much prayer and support from my family and church friends. This helped me cut ties with my past and dare to move on. Today, more than 10 years later, I’m still free. As I continue embracing my identity as a man, I’m still healing. Single and serving in a local church in Jakarta, Indonesia, I depend on the Lord daily for my wholeness and freedom. I hope that many people who are sexually confused will, like me, experience the power of God to bring healing to their lives and restore their identities.