I was born into a Christian family that went to church every single Sunday. I don’t remember what it was like to not know who God was and what He gave me. But I do remember what it was like to hear about all the amazing things that God was giving to me, yet not truly caring one smidge about it or giving it any thought outside of church.

I went to church every Sunday because I thought it was the normal thing to do, and I never ever questioned why my family routinely took me to church on Sundays. I’d listen to messages about the Gospel and various Bible stories. I would answer questions about them. But to be honest, I think I might have actually hated going to Sunday school at one point because it was so BORING! I couldn’t understand why I would learn about the same thing every Sunday, and be expected to answer questions that required me to read entire Bible passages for comprehension. I thought that believing in God was easy and straightforward—just believe that God is real and declare Him as your Savior, and you would be saved. Perhaps it was then that I already knew that the Gospel was real and that God was God, but I just never gave it much consideration nor did I accept Him as my Savior.

At that time in elementary school, my reason for going to church stemmed from the fact that I got to see my friends. I showed the same attitude for attending Vacation Bible School (VBS); not because I wanted to learn about God, but because I knew it was fun and exciting. However, even though I did not enjoy going to church to learn, I knew that on the inside I was a sinner and that only God could save me as long as I accepted Him. So when my crew leader at VBS asked if I wanted to accept God into my life, I said yes, because it only seemed logical since I was a sinner and only God could wipe away my sins to save me.

Once I invited Him into my life, it wasn’t as if my entire worldview (as small as it was) changed. It was as if I was living between two worlds with two major masks on—one meant for church where I became the good child who went to Sunday School without much complaint, and the other who couldn’t care less about God and the gift that He gave me. Real change didn’t occur for me until the end of middle school, when I started to see the difference between my friends at church and those from school. Something just didn’t seem right. And it wasn’t until I observed the godly behavioral change of my older brother that I knew I had Someone greater, Someone who gave me a purpose beyond what most of my friends at school would chase after. Because after all, how could one person (whom I thought I knew pretty well) change so drastically in a year after being baptized? Once I had that realization, I felt as if I was spiritually charged up, ready to learn once more about God. It felt good, it felt REALLY good, but I was eventually lulled back into a spiritual slump. Tired once again, and no longer feeling like putting in effort to know God more.

It wouldn’t be until my sophomore year that I would feel as if God was back again at my spiritual doorstep with a determined urgency to take me back to Him. That year, not only would I let my entire attitude and grades slip, but my best friend would go through one of the biggest trials in her life, and I would be completely helpless to do anything about it. During that time I questioned why God would let such a thing happen to my best friend. How could He let my friend suffer? How could He let her become so closed off to everyone? How could He leave me so powerless to help her go back to God? It was as if God was testing me, because at the beginning of the year, I had given my first excuse to not be baptized by saying, “I don’t know God enough; I can’t see Him in my life right now.” That year ended awfully—my grades suffered and my friend suffered. I felt as if I was losing a precious person, in exchange for another whom I knew from the start. It was one meaningless sacrifice.

And then came last year, my junior year of high school. That year wasn’t as dramatic as the previous, but I felt closer to God, and I definitely learned more about Him; however, I once again avoided the topic of baptism, throwing out the excuse of:  “I need to learn about God more. It’s not Him this time, it’s me.”

Fast forward to this year. With the deteriorating relationship within my family and with the current passing away of my grandma, I had come to the abrupt realization that to live without God was a truly terrifying thing. To know that I would be guaranteed salvation while the people closest to me weren’t was mortifying. I had already been thinking about getting baptized because I felt like I was finally ready to declare that God was my Lord and Savior. And with my current trials, it now serves to be more of a reason to dedicate my life to God. I want to have that security of going to Heaven; I want to become someone who would help bring my friends to God. I want to be able to proclaim with a strong conviction and a joyous heart that God is my Savior and I don’t want anyone else.