I recently went to the church I grew up in, and when I say grow up in, this was the church I began going to in 7th grade where my faith really began to grow. This was the place where I was excited to go to church every Sunday, where I spent my Sundays, Tuesdays, and Fridays; where I went to youth convention every year, where my mom had to literally drag me to and push me to walk into the youth group for the first time, and also where I never wanted to leave once I finally went in and sat down, this is where I met so many friends, where I grew so close to God, where I had the most intimate encounter and experience with God I have ever had, where I made the decision to get baptized, where my journey of publicly sharing my story began (although this was only 90 seconds and I shared something I overcame), where after sharing others came up to me and said they too struggled with what I shared, where I met the kids pastor, whom I am now still very good friends with and get to continue to do kids ministry with her week after week in our church we now attend, one of my safe places to be with the stresses of becoming a teen into my mid-teens, where I first broke my silence when I was in an abusive relationship, where I felt at peace with my decision to break off that relationship as I worshipped with him one last time, this time period represents a time when my family was still whole, a time when my faith grew and grew.
But it also represents:
Where I left after 5 years, where I experienced something so spiritually scary that shook me to my core and forever changed me, where I felt powerless after being verbally berated during a youth outing, where I wasn’t supported after breaking my silence, where I lost friendships, where I no longer felt emotionally or spiritually safe. This time period represents the night I last saw some of the closest people in my family, the last place I physically saw some of my family after being dropped off on the night my family fell apart.
The journey to forgiveness has taken almost 10 years. Forgiveness was not an overnight decision. I had thought that I had forgiven this place a couple years ago. But it took physically being back in the building, walking through the familiar hallways, and remembering the good memories that were locked away. I always looked at the negative outcomes of this church, but I realize that without this church as my foundation and invitation to grow in my faith, I would not be where I am today spiritually.
So during the two entire days into the later nighttime I spent at the young adult conference held in my first home church, I feel like everything has some full circle. I danced, I worshipped, I laid on the ground and worshipped/rested because my body was no longer conditioned for two straight hours of worship, I came forward to be prayed over, I surrendered, I allowed myself to leave my burdens at the altar, I listened to good preaching, I participated in an egg toss and other group games, I saw people I grew up with, but most importantly I forgave, I made peace, and I now can see what a pivotal role this place had on my life. I may have experienced some of the worst parts of my story, but I also realize that so much of who I am today is because of the role this church had on my life. I see the impact living out in my life, I especially see this when I speak out now and share my story. My story may have had some really rough chapters, but I know how this story ends, and even if I don’t know what the next chapters hold, my story ends in victory.