Throughout my life I’ve struggled with my faith. There have been times where I felt very close to God, and there have been times where I have questioned His existence. The whole ordeal has been a roller coaster of emotions and questions. But one thing has remained constant throughout; I have always come back to Him.
Growing up as a Lutheran, I was taught to go to church. My family would go every week and we would participate in events hosted by the church. My friends were all in my Sunday school class. It seemed to be a very good start to a life in the church. I always loved being in Sunday school because I knew everyone there. Unlike my regular school where I felt like I didn’t really fit in, my Sunday school was where I felt like an equal; like I belonged, and that was why I loved to go so much. As I got older, I eventually grew out of the Sunday school classes and had to go to work towards my confirmation. This transition was interesting because I was put into a group of kids who had been picking on me in school. I didn’t want anything to do with them and I became very quiet in class. I remember being so angry with them because of how fake they acted; saying how much God meant to them. It brings me back to the philosophical problem of evil: “If God is omnipotent, omniscient and entirely good, how can He let evil exist?” Now, back then I wasn’t thinking in philosophical paradoxes, but the question racked my brain. This is the point where I started to turn away from God. By the end of my confirmation classes, I had almost entirely turned away from my faith, and was just trying to get out. When I was finally confirmed, I remember a sense of relief because I knew as an adult in the eyes of the church I wouldn’t have to go anymore if I didn’t want to. I could finally get away from the kids who were bullying me and I could finally let it all go. This was the trend for the rest of my High School career. I drifted further and further away from God and the church to the point I had convinced myself that I was atheistic. I just stopped going to church, stopped praying and stopped believing.
When I finally got to college, I struggled a lot with my identity. I had never experienced freedom of this magnitude and I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I was so insecure about every aspect of my life that I became depressed. In my depression, I would shut myself in my room and I wouldn’t talk to anyone for days. I remember there were weekends that my roommate would be gone and I wouldn’t even leave the room the whole weekend. I hated every second of it and hated being alone, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I asked my family what they do when they feel alone, and they would say things like, “go out to the Commons and talk to a stranger,” or “Say hi to one of your friends on campus,” but none of those suggestions seemed to provide comfort so I did something that I hadn’t done in years: I prayed.
Praying there in my room was the first time I had even thought about God since my confirmation. When I prayed, at first I didn’t feel relief; at least at first. What I felt was defeat or submission. I felt like I had given up on myself. It was nice to talk about my problems, but I felt like I was talking to myself. I didn’t believe that God was listening to me. I thought to myself that I should have just gone to talk to a therapist instead because at least there was someone there. Looking back, I just wasn’t ready to go back to God yet. But there was more in store for me that year.
Later in that school year, I met my first college girlfriend named Maddie. Dating her gave me the confidence that got me out of my depression, but there was something more that I learned from her. If there was one thing I remember about Maddie, it was that she was very strong in her faith. Because of her devotion to the church, I felt something within myself ignite again. I started to believe. It was just a faint spark, I knew something had changed. Just as the fire was starting to build, our relationship ended and the flame was snuffed out. After that I thought for sure I wouldn’t get close to God again. But then something terrible happened.
After my first semester of my sophomore year, I was feeling really good. My social life had been flourishing, I had met another wonderful girl and Christmas was just around the corner. And then I got a call that pushed all that aside. My mother had called me with terrible news; one of my cousins had killed himself. After hearing that news I suddenly felt alone. All the friends I had made were gone. My girlfriend had left for break. My roommate was gone. I was totally isolated. I didn’t know what to do, so I looked up and I prayed. I prayed for myself. I prayed for my cousin’s family. I prayed for peace and comfort and I prayed to be heard. I was worried that the prayer would provide no comfort like before, but this time was different. This time I believed that God was listening. As tragic as it was, this was what pushed me back into my faith.
Ever since then, I have been exploring my faith and getting closer to God. I’m not where I was growing up with the people of the church, but I don’t know if I want to get there. Right now I feel like I have a personal connection with God and that going to church might tarnish what I have created with Him. I like where I am at in my faith. I’m comfortable with it, and for now, that is all I need. I’m just glad that throughout all these years, I have finally found Him again.
