I was raised in church and had Christian values instilled in me for as far back as I can remember. As a child, church was a chore. There was nothing more daunting to me than singing in a children’s choir, attending Vacation Bible School with other rowdy kids or sitting in a full sanctuary surrounded by other people when I could be at home peacefully playing with my Polly Pockets instead. I never paid attention during sermons and chose to doodle or daydream. I had a not-so-irrational fear of the book of Revelation (and still do), and my prayer for salvation at age nine was also a fear-based decision. When you’re an innocent child, you hear about salvation and can only conceptualize it as a transactional, one-time prayer as a means to escape Hell. It felt so transactional and shallow that, throughout the rest of my childhood and early adult life, I often doubted whether I was truly a Christian. Why was I never moved to tears like others at church? Why did I lack so many fruits of the spirit? Why would anyone cry at the altar in front of the entire congregation?
2011-2013
As a naive young adult in my first year away at college, I experienced sexual assault that parlayed into a traumatic, months-long entanglement with a much older man (with an alcohol problem) who was also in a position of authority. I never reported him or received the help I needed to heal. Following that experience, I jumped from attempted relationship to attempted relationship with very odd characters, many of whom were also much older. I engaged in disordered eating and had strained relationships with friends and family who were not emotionally prepared enough or able to understand how to walk alongside me in what I was going through. One of my professors referred me to great mental health practitioners, but due to my limited funds and schedule as a busy college student, I attended inconsistently.
2014-2017
Eventually, my mental health became so poor that I dropped out of my final year of graduate school to live in my parents’ basement and drive an hour to and from a full time job daily. A year later, I found a job that allowed me to move to a studio apartment in downtown Durham at 24 years old with bars within walking distance. I had all but turned my back on God. I wanted to justify my behaviors and choices with men by trying to convince myself that the values I grew up with were “outdated.” My bitterness and compounded heartbreak were spawning a misguided, spiteful and selfish spirit within me, but my tenderness and desperation for love and approval were still on full display for the nefarious characters I encountered during my many nights out in Durham. The cycle of pain continued with every foolish choice and attempt at love I embarked on. Men who would have treated me nicely were unappealing to me; I believed I needed to earn love, leading me to entertain men who were even more broken than me and would inevitably reject me.
My Turning Point
God was screaming at me in 2018. I won’t go into too much detail out of sheer shame, but I was in another non-committed relationship with a musician who lived a dishonest lifestyle that I had met at a local bar. I was aware of his lifestyle but was convinced that if I meant enough to him, he would change and choose me. He also had a reputation as a womanizer for a reason, and no one was shy about letting me know – not even him. Regardless, I was invested and saw the good in him and his wonderful sense of humor. Everyone around me thought I was insane for becoming involved with him. The “relationship” was so chaotic and unhealthy that I was making all of my friends miserable and pushing people away one by one.
One night, I was watching his band play at a local bar and was sitting at a table by myself when I was approached by a guy who was trying to hit on me. I was very friendly to him but still informed him that I was watching my not-boyfriend play the drums. When he left the table, an older man sitting a few tables down approached me.
“Did you know that guy?” he asked.
“No. I’m here for the drummer,” I replied.
He looked at the drummer, looked back at me and calmly said, “I’m the pastor at the church down the street. I only come to these places for the music. You should visit one Sunday.”
I consider that the first seed God had planted in my heart during that time, although my attempts at suppressing God over the years were never fully successful. The guilt of my choices never left, but I ignored the feeling time after time. I continued seeing the drummer and never attended that church.
A month or two later, the “relationship” deteriorated, and I had a health scare that literally brought me to my knees. It was just frightening enough that my past decisions had flashed before my eyes, and I broke out into a cold sweat with no one to blame but myself. When the scare was confirmed to be only a scare, I repented. I asked God to re-enter my life. I was absolutely done trying to do things my own selfish way and realized that God was the answer. To this day, I am still grateful to God for allowing me to escape nearly all of my stupid decisions relatively unscathed. I am fortunate enough to have walked away with only the memories of God’s merciful wake-up calls disguised as close calls. I’ve learned over the years that God’s expertise in getting my attention is unmatched. He truly does know my deepest fears, insecurities and inner workings all too well. He knows just how sternly to tap my wrist so that I learn my lesson before it’s too late. It’s a miracle that I have been allowed the luxury of repeating past mistakes consequence-free while others have not been as fortunate.
Following my repentance, the desires of my heart changed rapidly with only a few withdrawal symptoms along the way as my past bled out. I reconnected with one of my best friends, Matt, after our relationship became strained for years due to a growing contrast in our values and immaturity on both sides. Matt is a devout Christian and was the first friend I made when I moved to a new high school. We attended college together and were close with each other’s families. He was one of the first people I called to tell about my decision to return to Christ.
Shortly after God began reshaping my heart and life, I was fired from my stressful, chaotic job in early 2019. At the time, I felt deeply betrayed by my co-workers who had often claimed to be a “family.” I felt defective as an employee. After returning to graduate school and earning my master’s degree, I had already applied for 100 jobs over a year and had never been offered a single interview. How was I supposed to find a job now that I desperately needed one?
Matt suggested I apply to a job opening at his company. He sent a letter of recommendation along with my application, and I was interviewed and hired within two weeks of my job loss. My supervisor at the time was also a devout Christian, and the job happened to align perfectly with my skills. I have been an employee there for more than five years and had no clue a job like that even existed. I am now able to see that, no matter how many doors I tried to open myself with countless job applications, all it took was one “right” door for God to open in order for things to fall into place. I am working diligently to apply that same faith in God’s timing when it comes to finding a husband. When doubts and fear creep in, I remind myself of God’s goodness in the past and how he uses pain for purpose.
Matt and I got to spend a year working at the same company and taking lunch breaks together. We got to relive some of our hardest laughs. I didn’t realize the void in my life that our loss of friendship left until it was filled again. In late 2019, he found the love of his life after a long, difficult season of heartbreak and loneliness that he nursed properly through God and unwavering faith. In 2020, he got married and moved to Virginia. He lived by example throughout his adult life, even when others (including myself) doubted him. He was not willing to compromise his beliefs for a “quick fix” in love. He was not going to settle or sell his soul, even though all he wanted was a spouse and often feared he would never find one. His story gives me daily hope as I pray to God that I find the same. He is my spiritual rock and wise counsel when it comes to any questions I have about the Bible’s teachings. God used his struggles to serve as a beacon of light for mine.
