One of my earliest memories related to my beliefs took place when I was about 4 years old. I remember asking my mom if we could go to Christmas Eve service at church. My dad stayed home with my uncle and my grandfather that year, and while I didn’t understand why, I know now it was because it was the first Christmas my Grandma was not here with us. 

When I was young, my family went to church just about every Sunday, and then again on most Wednesday nights. We attended a non-denominational church that believed we should follow both the Bible and the Holy Spirit. I grew up with people raising their hands and falling to their knees during worship. I grew up with people speaking in the Heavenly language (speaking in tongues) and seeing a very charismatic approach to following God and Jesus. I learned that Christianity was not about following all the rules perfectly, or making sure you’re saying the right thing all the time. I grew up learning that being a Christian meant you asked Jesus into your heart by acknowledging He is the Savior, and that when you are baptized you are filled with the Holy Spirit. I grew up knowing following God as about loving other people and not judging them if their thoughts and beliefs were different then mine. I learned that the Bible is the Word of God, and if you believe Genesis 1, you can believe the rest of the Bible is true. 

I was baptized at the age of 9, and I remember being very strong in my convictions, even from a young age. Maybe some of that had to do with my personality….I was a rule follower at heart and did not like to draw attention to myself or make anyone upset with me. I am an only child, and am used to being alone, but I have rarely been lonely. 

Even when there was a period of time when my family did not attend church, my beliefs and faith in God did not diminish. As I grew into my late teens, I started going back to church with my parents, and we attended several churches in the area, trying to find one we felt could be our home church. We met a lot of great people and listened to some wonderful sermons, but nothing felt quite right. 

When I was 20 years old, I had the opportunity to move to Arkansas to play volleyball at a small D2 level university. It was the first time I was on my own, away from family, and I leaned into my faith more than I ever had up to that point in my life. There was a moment that continues to stand out from my time there. I was unhappy with volleyball, unhappy with the school, unhappy with my long distance relationship, and becoming severely depressed. I was in an enormous amount of pain everyday from an injury, and couldn’t take certain medications due to NCAA regulations. I was sitting at my desk in my dorm room, in between classes, and I was praying, asking God to help me through this time, both mentally and physically. I remember feeling so much turmoil inside, and not understanding where it was coming from. I called my dad, and I remember asking him if he would be upset with me if I quit playing volleyball. I can still hear his voice on the other end of the line, telling me, “There’s nothing you could do to make me upset with you. Whatever you choose, and wherever God leads you, your mom and I will support you no matter what.” A few hours later we met our coach down at a pathway, and I told her I was quitting. The amount of relief and joy I felt in that moment and beyond were unlike anything I had experienced before. I felt joy bubbling up from deep inside me, and I knew I was in agreement with God’s plan for me.

I’ll continue sharing how God has never failed me in the next post…stay tuned!