At seventeen, I stepped into the rhythm of worship, drawn by the warmth of friends, the pull of music, and the promise of a Father whose love ran deeper than any I had known. I was welcomed with open arms, swept up in song and spirit – it felt like home. I joined the worship band and gave my heart to God completely, without hesitation. His love, word, and grace became my anchor, joy, and strength.
However, life shifted, and my community changed. What once felt like belonging gradually faded. At twenty-four, I stepped away, not because I stopped believing, but because infidelities fractured our friendship circle. Around the same time, when my brother came out as gay, some couldn’t fully embrace the core truth: to love God is to love everyone, just as Jesus did. That foundational love felt lost – not only in the chaos of broken promises, but in the conditional grace offered to those who didn’t fit a certain mould. “We will love you anyway” still lingers in my mind – not because it wasn’t love, but because it wasn’t whole. It carried a shadow of shame I could no longer align with.
The years that followed were heavy, filled with anxiety and depression, and a subtle ache that lingered throughout much of my twenties. I tried to carry it all alone, and on some days, I barely could. Still, He stayed –quiet, steady, and patient.
Now, ten years later, I’ve found my way back. Not to the crowd, but to the quiet; not to performance, but to presence. Returning to Him has been my most healing decision this year. His peace is patient, and His grace is unending.
There are still parts of me that struggle with how people are treated when they don’t meet others’ expectations of what it means to be a “good” Christian. But I know that my God is a God of love – one who sees beyond appearances, labels, and checkboxes.
I am being made new, day by day. Even when I turned away for a time, He never turned from me.
Shanlivvy 