I grew up in a Christian home. My dad has been in worship ministry since he was nineteen, and he always made sure to involve me and my brothers in church, whether that meant volunteering on the production team, singing on the worship team, or waking up early to help set up at the old school where our church used to meet. He was always very intentional with our faiths, but he never forced it on us. Him and my mom led by example. I have attended Christian school ever since I started school, and prayer was a daily part of my life, especially before meals with my family. Because of this, God has always been present in my life, but it was not until a little over a year ago that I truly gave my life to Him. I had always believed in God as a kid, and I know that belief came from going to church every Sunday and attending Christian school during the week. Whenever people asked me if I was saved, though, I never really knew how to answer. I believed in God, but I was not sure what that meant for my salvation or whether I was going to heaven when I died. That uncertainty scared me. Because of that, I lived my life the way many people do before giving their lives to Christ. I was often the troublemaker or the funny student in class, and eventually that behavior caught up with me during the last few years of high school. I got into trouble frequently, and by the end of the fall semester of my senior year, my school had had enough and expelled me. That was a very dark time in my life. I did not know what was coming next. I was already struggling with questions about where I would go to college and what I wanted to study. I had hoped to attend Appalachian State for my freshman year, but my parents wanted me to stay home for at least one year and attend Queens University so they could help guide me through the transition to college. This became an ongoing debate, and the decision was not finalized until one night when we had to put down deposits for our Germany choir mission trip. If I wanted to go on that trip, I would have to attend Queens, because I would not be able to make all the rehearsals if I went to Appalachian State in Boone. 

That night, I decided that I was going on the mission trip, which meant I was going to Queens and staying home. Looking back, staying home was the best decision I could have made at that time. I started my fall semester at Queens, and during one of the club fairs, I came across a table labeled RUF, which stood for Reformed University Fellowship. It was basically a college aged youth group, and it ended up being the only club I signed up for that day. One of the guys at the table told me about a Bible study he was starting with a few other men, so I decided to join. It met every Wednesday. I had never really been involved in Bible studies before, so this was new for me, but I quickly started to enjoy them. I would often leave feeling convicted of my sin. There was one Bible study in particular where we talked about baptism. That conversation planted a seed in my mind that I wanted to be baptized, even though I did not fully understand what that meant yet. Later that same day, I felt convicted about the people I had wronged in high school, and I began calling a few of them to apologize. That might not seem like a big deal, but for me it was something I never would have imagined doing. I was not expecting forgiveness. I simply felt a strong pull to reach out and take responsibility for my actions. A week or two later, my mom and younger brother went to Florida to visit my older brother, while my dad and I stayed home. My dad had originally planned to go with them, but for some reason he stayed. One night after work, he came home and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner so we could talk about how college had been going. I saw this as a great opportunity to bring up my thoughts about baptism, but I did not know how to start the conversation. Earlier that day, my dad had texted me asking whether I would rather stay in and let him cook or go out to eat, and I chose to go out. We ended up at Texas Roadhouse. During dinner, we talked about college, my classes, and how I was feeling overall. I wanted to talk about my faith, but I did not know how to bring it up. When my dad went to the bathroom toward the end of the meal, I prayed silently that if I was meant to talk to him about this, he would ask me if there was anything else I wanted to discuss. He came back, we paid, and we drove home. As I was walking upstairs to my room, my dad suddenly stopped me and asked if there was anything else I wanted to talk about. That was when I told him about my desire to be baptized. He shared with me that he had actually been talking with Pastor Dan about my faith just a few days earlier. He told me to go upstairs, get ready for the night, and then come back down so we could talk. That night, we talked about what baptism truly meant and what it meant to be saved. It was then that I gave my life to Christ. Afterward, I called my mom, who was at Disney with my brothers, to tell her what had just happened. I was crying so hard that I could barely get the words out, and she thought something terrible had happened, like I had gotten arrested. Whenever I go through something difficult now, I think back to that moment and remind myself of the overwhelming joy I felt, along with the joy my family felt for me. 

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” ~ Isaiah 41:10