I didn’t grow up in a traditional Christian home. My Dad and Mom met in church, but as soon as they married, he stopped going. Growing up, my Mother was a guidepost for me to the Lord. She would read the Bible to my sister and I, she would have us write down our prayers. She would always have us in church and teach us about God. Looking back on it, she demonstrated her faith in the Lord many times by trusting Him to provide for her and her daughters on those occasions when we needed to leave the house while she was looking for work or a place to stay. He always provided.

When I was about 5 or 6, I saw a play at my church called “Heaven’s Gate and Hell’s Flame”. In that play there’s a scene where a Mother and Daughter get separated – one goes to Heaven and the other to Hell. I knew where my Mother was going and I knew I wasn’t going there. I also wanted Jesus to be my father, since I didn’t have much of one in my Dad. I remember going down and talking to my Sunday school teacher, who led me to pray to ask Jesus into my heart. I didn’t quite understand. Later that night, my Mother talked to me about the play and why I went up front. I told her I knew where she was going, and that I didn’t want to go away from her, but most importantly, I remember wanting Jesus as my father.

I went through a time of rebellion as a teenager, knowing what the Lord required but refusing to listen, for about a year. The Lord disciplined me during this time, and though it was unpleasant and led to a lot of strife with my family, he was patient towards me. I began to realize I had been taught a lot of things about God that were wrong, and though I was sure he loved me, I realized I knew very little about Him. Over the last five or six years, He’s begun to open my eyes to see Him really: how He would have me serve him, how He would have me be in a relationship with Him, and what He is like according to His word.