Out of the darkness, into the light

It’s hard for me to articulate fully a proper testimony to Jesus in just a couple pages. The audience this reaches is far too broad to cater to every individual, a lot of whom I care deeply for and with whom I have a long history. Many have a diverse and/or complicated relationship with religion. For some, it’s an essential part of life; for others, it’s seen as an ignorant abomination of society.

I understand both ends of that spectrum. I lived most of my life as an atheist—albeit a respectful one. I wasn’t anti-religion, but I firmly believed that science and logic had, and would continue to, erase any remaining mystery in the world.

Four years ago (almost to the day), I reached a breaking point in my life. Not my first—and certainly not my last—but a significant one. I have a long history of mental health struggles. I’ve been on and off medications since I was 20, in and out of therapy for years, diagnosed with this and that. I’ve battled alcohol dependency and suicidal thoughts. If you know me, you’ve likely witnessed this at one point or another. It’s been the undercurrent of every day of my life for over 30 years.

Baptized during Easter Vigil by Fr. Roque Pereira, Pastor of St. Patrick's Church in Medicine Hat, Alberta.

I cope, I grow, I manage—but it’s always with me. I accept that. This is not a “Jesus cured my depression” story. I still fight that battle daily.

Yet what happened four years ago was a call out of the darkness. I awoke in the middle of the night with very dark, troubling thoughts. I couldn’t shake them. I couldn’t fall back asleep. It was around 3:30 a.m., and I felt compelled to go for a run in my neighborhood. Running wasn’t unusual for me—but certainly not at that hour.
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I put on my shoes, left a note on the table for my family, and quietly slipped out the door. My usual jogging route takes me past Saint Patrick’s—one of the most prominent and historic churches in Medicine Hat. If you're from here, you know it's a beautiful city landmark.

As I ran down the street, fighting the demons in my mind, I felt drawn to cut through the parking lot and sit on a bench—not from physical exhaustion, but from complete mental defeat. I sat there in the darkness, looking up at the statue of St. Teresa of Ávila. I had nothing left but to completely surrender and pray—either to be struck dead or to be helped by the Holy Spirit.

That cry into the void wasn’t met with the death I begged for—but with a radiant warmth inside me. It felt like a spiritual fire had been lit in my chest. A veil that had blinded me my entire life was suddenly torn away, like a bandage ripped from my eyes.

From that night forward, I began studying theology with the fervour of a hyper-focused child—specifically Catholicism, as I’d always felt drawn to its rich traditions and deep historical roots. I read works from early Church Fathers and Saints—Augustine of Hippo, Thomas Aquinas, Catherine of Siena—names that especially stood out. I read books by Bishop Robert Barron, watched his Catholicism documentaries, and followed his weekly homilies.

I began a loose but dedicated prayer routine. After a couple of years feeling the transformative power and wisdom granted through faith, I started attending mass at the very church where my journey had begun.

I went alone. I had no close Catholic friends. In fact, many people around me despised the Catholic Church—due to its troubled past, its scandals, and the way it’s portrayed by the media and entertainment industry. But I wasn’t deterred.
In today’s world, proclaiming any faith is an act of rebellion—let alone Catholic faith. I’ve always been the rebellious type. Judgment from others rarely dents my determination to follow my own path.

Last year, after attending mass for several months, I reached out to the church office to ask about being baptized and becoming a full member. Deacon Terry set up a meeting, and I shared the same story I’m now sharing with you.
After we exchanged contact information, he told me RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) classes would begin in the fall—and that my name was now on the list.

From September to April, I attended the weekly classes, went to mass two or sometimes three days a week, and even joined the church choir. I now sing and rehearse with them weekly. Through it all, I’ve found an amazing community, new friendships, and unspeakable blessings.

The acts of service in which I've been able to participate in, both for others and for the broader community—have already begun to change my life and open my heart in ways I can’t fully explain.

On Saturday night, during the Easter Vigil mass, I was baptized, confirmed, and received my First Communion—surrounded by friends, family, and nothing but love, both around me and from above. 
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Thank you all. Bless you all. Also, thank you for reading my testimony to Jesus.

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Written by Justin Quinton for Faithfully. He was baptized into the Catholic Church at St. Patrick’s Parish in Medicine Hat during the Easter Vigil of 2025.