Too Extreme, or Not Extreme Enough
I grew up in the church. My dad was my very first pastor. He gave me my first Bible. He baptized me. Most of my childhood was spent living in (or very close) to a seminary and therefore between home and church, I was surrounded by other Christians. In fact, it probably wasn't until I hit high school that I had any close friends who didn't believe in Christ and didn't go to church every Sunday (and most likely on Wednesdays, too). I don't really remembered the day I definitely asked Christ into my life. Although, I do remember something about a 5,000 piece puzzle. Walking into our bedroom and watching sunlight filter onto the unfinished piece, illuminating it in a way I thought was beautiful. Somewhere in that moment, I knew. There definitely was a God and I wanted Him to make me just as beautiful. Whether that's a figment of my overactive imagination, or how I really came to "accept Christ," I really don't know. But I do know that over the yea...