Finding My Faith
A simple, honest look at my journey with faith—from growing up in the church and going through the motions, to walking through anxiety and hard seasons, and slowly learning what it really means to know Jesus personally.
I was raised in the church.
I grew up in a Lutheran school, attended Sunday school every week, went to Vacation Bible School every summer, sat in religion class every day, and went through confirmation in 7th and 8th grade. Church wasn’t just something I attended occasionally—it was woven into my everyday life. It was familiar, consistent, and something I always considered part of who I was.
When I went off to college, I made sure to find a church I liked and continued going as often as I could. Even with the chaos of school and life, I stayed connected in the ways I knew how. I even joined a Bible study that fit my schedule, which ended up being the group for older members of the church. It wasn’t what you would typically expect for a college student, but it worked for me—and they welcomed me with open arms. Looking back, I realize I was always surrounded by faith in such a positive way. I never experienced church hurt. I only had good experiences, kind people, and a strong foundation around me.
And yet, for a long time, I still found myself asking… if I was always in church, always involved, always doing the “right” things—why didn’t I feel like I actually knew Jesus?
The truth is, I was going through the motions.
Church made me feel good. It felt like the right thing to do, so I kept showing up. I stayed consistent, I stayed involved, and I stayed close to religion—but I wasn’t truly growing close to Jesus Himself. There is a difference between being surrounded by faith and actually walking in relationship with Him, and at the time, I didn’t understand that.
Everything shifted when I graduated college and moved to Colorado on my own for a new adventure. And it truly was an adventure in every sense of the word. I hiked, I explored, I tried new things, and I experienced so much independence. I learned how to be alone in a way I had never experienced before. I went to movies alone, dinner alone, shopping alone, hiking alone. And for a while, that independence felt freeing. I actually enjoyed it most of the time. I became comfortable in my own space, doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
But eventually, that kind of aloneness started to feel different. It wasn’t just independence anymore—it was loneliness.
And I wanted something more.
That’s where my arch nemesis came in—alcohol.
I struggled with alcohol for about six years. At first, it was something that helped quiet the loneliness. It made social situations feel easier and helped me feel less alone when I was by myself. But over time, it became something much heavier. I used it when I went out with friends to feel more confident and more social, and I used it at home to numb the feeling of being alone. What started as something that felt like relief slowly turned into something that brought the opposite of what I was searching for.
Along with those temporary moments of comfort came something much darker—anxiety, depression, and a deep loss of self-worth. The anxiety was the worst of it all. I’ve always struggled with anxiety, but alcohol intensified it in ways I can’t even fully put into words. I felt like I was constantly drowning in it, like my thoughts were too loud and my peace was completely gone. It became something I carried every single day.
But God had a plan.
He placed the right people in my life at the right time—people who gently but consistently helped pull me out of that cycle. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t easy. And even now, it’s still something I continue to work through. But it was in the hardest parts that I started to truly find Jesus. Not just as someone I had learned about growing up, and not just as part of church routine—but as my friend.
When I say “my Jesus,” I mean my friend Jesus.
I had heard people say that phrase my whole life. I heard it in worship songs, I saw it on Christian merchandise, I heard it spoken in church. But I didn’t really understand it until I needed Him in a different way. I started to understand what it means to actually talk to Him, lean on Him, and bring Him into the middle of my everyday thoughts and struggles.
Since I started truly seeking a relationship with my Savior, my life has changed in a thousand small ways. Not in a sudden, dramatic transformation, but in quiet, steady shifts that have slowly changed the way I think, the way I feel, and the way I move through life.
I still struggle with anxiety. That hasn’t gone away. But now, when that anxious voice starts to creep in, I find myself turning to prayer almost instinctively. I remind myself, God’s got this. Whatever “this” is in that exact moment.
Why should I worry when I am not even in control?
That thought alone brings me peace in ways I can’t fully explain. The God who created me, who knows me completely, and who loves me beyond anything I can comprehend wants what is best for me. He wants peace for me. He wants joy for me. He wants wholeness for me.
So why am I holding onto worry like I have any control at all?
My anxiety is still one of my greatest struggles—but it has also become one of the ways God continually draws me back to Him.
My relationship with God has always been there in some form. But now, it feels different. It feels like a two-way relationship. A real one. A growing one.
And I am nowhere close to perfect. I still miss church sometimes. I haven’t finished every devotion I’ve started, and I haven’t read the entire Bible yet. But something in me wants to. And for the first time, I’m not forcing that desire—I’m actually excited by it.
People who knew me at my lowest sometimes ask how I feel so different now.
And the only answer I ever really have is this:
Jesus.
