In my teens, I often volunteered as a facilitator in student camps. By the time I was 19, I was helping out at my sixth camp, where we brought a bunch of students to Malaysia for a week’s retreat.

Our job was to help them bond through interactive activities, and ultimately to get them excited about school. Frankly, I didn’t know how that would be possible.

During this camp, I became close to one of the students who was initially extremely reserved and quiet. She wasn’t stuck-up. She was simply … silent. She wasn’t interested in the activities and usually sat in a corner alone. She never spoke to any of her classmates.

As a facilitator, I felt the pressure to help her gel better with her classmates. I took extra care to include her in all our conversations. I really looked out for her.

Before the planned “night walk” – a camp activity where students develop courage by walking through a set route, in the dark of night – she disappeared.

I was worried she’d run out of the camp; this was Malaysia. The roads were uneven and there were no street lamps.

I saw myself in this girl. I had been suicidal too, a few years before.

Using my iPhone flashlight, I went around the whole site looking for her. I finally found her hiding in the toilet. When I assured her that I was the only one there, she unlocked the door, and came clean about her fear of the dark.

“I can’t go into the dark … It’s too dark. I don’t want to go there,” she sobbed.

We managed to persuade her to come out and go for the walk, her classmates and facilitators holding her hands, encouraging her with every step. We had our phone flashlights and torchlights on throughout, so she was able to overcome her fear of the dark.

After the night walk, I asked to speak to her privately. She opened up, telling me she was depressed and overwhelmed with her personal life and school.

Slowly rolling up her sleeves, she showed me all her scars from self-mutilation.

She was trembling, and tears welled up in her eyes. That’s when I realised what she had been doing in the toilet: She had intended to harm herself again.

“Nobody understands. It’s better that I die. My teacher even said to the class that I’m being attention-seeking … How could she say that?”

I saw myself in this girl. I had been suicidal too, a few years before.

That’s when I realised what she had been doing in the toilet: She had intended to harm herself again.

I prayed desperately for God to guide me: “How can I show her Jesus in this situation? Jesus, where are you now?”

And He spoke, reminding me of how Thomas had to touch the scars on Jesus’ hands before he truly believed. She will not know of the resurrection until she sees it.

I revealed to her that I, too, had struggled with similar issues. I shared how I eventually overcame self-harm by holding on to the love of God.

I even took pills. I’m glad I’m alive, and I hope you’ll find the strength to live on, to live through your circumstances, because they are temporary, I told her.

She was shocked initially – but she broke into a shy smile and hugged me.

I knew what it was like to be young and broken. I’d grown up ridden with scars both emotional and physical.

Sin had ravaged and destroyed my self-esteem. My self-worth had been crushed through years of self-harm. I didn’t think anyone would have understood me. I attempted suicide so, so many times.

How is it possible that my pain can be used to comfort another? How can it be that my scars can lend strength to another? How could my brokenness reveal His glory? That night with the girl was a lesson for me.

It showed me that even a broken vessel like me – seemingly useless and worthless – may have the privilege of pouring out His overflowing glory in the most unexpected ways.

We need only to be willing.

Recently, I got a private message on Instagram. It was her again. I’d almost forgotten about the camp by now.

“I’ve been clean for a year, thank you so much,” she wrote. “You reminded me that the only way for light to shine through was through a crack. God bless you.”

September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day. If you’re struggling and unhappy with life – please don’t give up. Call the Samaritans of Singapore (SOS) hotline at 1800 221 4444.