I was raised in a religious household. My parents instilled Christian values in me at a young age, and both sides of my family are strong in their faith. Many people would assume that this is the reason I consider myself a Christian today. That, however, is a misconstrued assumption.

Of course, it had an affect on me. I grew up already knowing about God, had knowledge of Bible stories, and knew that my faith meant a great deal to my family. I'd be lying, though, if I said that this caused me to believe. I'd attend church with them almost every week, but I'd complain every Sunday, and try to get out of going. I only went to youth group functions for my friends, or because I was forced to. I knew who God was, but I didn't know Him.

Flash forward to Christian Summer camp, at The Springs Ministries, in 2007. I had honestly taken most of the week as a fun vacation; I was there for my cousins, friends and to get away from my parents for a week. As a teenager, those were the appealing aspects -- not religion. However, on this night, it was different. The normally upbeat, and uplifting, nightly sermon took a more serious turn. A turn I was not expecting.

The camp counselor's had put on a 'performance,' like they sometimes did, and it really hit home for me. I've struggled with depression and anxiety for my entire life, and was undoubtedly plagued with feelings of loneliness and abandonment. Despite having many friends, and family, that cared for me, I still felt alone -- and it felt impossible to shake those feelings. At the time, my relationship with my father was also unbelievably rocky, for many reasons, and I felt betrayed. The counselors acted out a scene of a young girl struggling with these same battles, and using boys, alcohol or drugs to try and fill those holes. I felt like my life was being played out in front of me. I felt like I was watching my future self just waste away from her own struggles, and the inability to handle them alone.

The sermon went on to speak of our Holy Father, and how he is the only father we need. The guest pastor went on to speak of how with Him, we are never alone -- something I had heard a million times before, but never fully understood until that moment. The words I was hearing stopped going in one ear and out the other; the words I was hearing were shaking my soul like an earthquake. The tears would not stop falling.

I cried until the end of the sermon, and continued to cry after. As everyone stood up around me to go get free ice cream, and celebrate the weeks' end, I stayed seated. My head was in my palms, my elbows on my knees, and the tears continued to roll like clock work. I couldn't move. These things that I had been struggling to let go of for years...were now rushing out of me, all at once.

I was now the only one left in the Chapel, but I hadn't noticed. I began to pray, and asked God if He would forgive me for turning to destructive paths instead of Him in my time of need. I asked Him to fill these 'holes' with His love, and give me the strength I needed to break out of this blanket of loneliness I had wrapped myself so tightly in.

All of a sudden, I felt the warmest and most comforting of arms wrap themselves around me. There wasn't anyone there; It was God. I wasn't afraid, though. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt relieved. I felt as if He was saying, "It's OK, you are already forgiven."

Tears still rolled down my cheeks, but I no longer felt pain. I no longer felt alone. I felt God's love.

It sounds crazy, I know. It sounds like something you hear from a pastor who claims he can heal you with the touch of his hand, or from the crazy old lady down the street...I know how it sounds. I promise you, though, that I am not being deceitful. That every word of this story is true.

I do not believe in God because my parents told me to, or because my church told me to. I believe in God because I have personally experienced His love, and comfort.