Faith, Hope, and Love

At the beginning of 2015, I tried something new. I had given up resolutions many years before, and decided to try picking a word for the year instead . My word was intentional . It felt like a good word. I wanted to be more intentional about my career, and so in 2015 I pursued different opportunities to get back into writing and the editorial world. I wanted to be more intentional about my creative hobbies, like writing and photography, and so I looked at a lot of different class options and made some new contacts. I wanted to be more intentional about my relationships--mostly friendships, but also in the romance category. And so I said "yes" to things I was tempted to say "no" to, and signed up for things at church and beyond in order to get involved and meet more people. I wanted to be more intentional about my health, and did a barre class once a week for a while. And drank more water, and ate healthy in general. I wanted to be more intentional at

In some Christian circles, it is the "thing" to ask people their salvation story. How did you come to know the Lord? It is often on mission trip applications, volunteer forms, and it might even comes up when you're meeting your new boyfriend's friends, mentors or family. Someone, somewhere is going to ask. Tell us your testimony. This has always made me a little uncomfortable, or sometimes even rubbed me the wrong way. And then I'd feel guilt. Shouldn't I be excited to share my story? To shout from the rooftops the story of how God saved me, redeemed me, made me whole? So why do I feel a little bit of discomfort or shame when I think of my story? Of the place where I first met the Lord? It's taken me a while, but I realized it boiled down to one thing: I don't remember it.  I don't remember the day, the time, the moment where I first surrendered to His call and embraced the message of the Gospel. I grew up in a Christian home. When I w