I Didn’t Lose My Faith — I Drifted From It

I didn’t grow up without God.

I grew up in Him.

My parents were deeply involved in church. I was there for everything — step team, choir, Sunday school, youth events. I literally knew the security code to the church. That’s how often we were there.

Faith wasn’t foreign to me.
It was familiar.

But familiarity and intimacy are not the same thing.

When Faith Became Mine

I believe I first developed my own personal relationship with God when I was 17 years old.

Not in church.
Not at an altar call.
Not during youth revival.

In my bedroom.

I was wrestling with insecurity. Identity. The quiet ache of being a Black teenage girl trying to understand who she was and who she was supposed to become.

And in that room — in a moment I’ve never fully been able to explain — I physically felt the presence of God.

Not emotional hype.
Not imagination.
Presence.

It was holy. It was personal. It was undeniable.

From that night forward, I changed. I threw away things that I felt didn’t please Him. I made intentional choices to live differently. I wasn’t perfect, but I was sincere.

That was the first time faith felt like relationship instead of routine.

College, Independence, and Slow Drifting

College was good to me. I still went to church. I still believed.

But I wasn’t deeply active in my faith.

Belief stayed.
Discipline softened.

After graduation, I moved across the country to Portland, Oregon — far from family, far from familiarity, far from the version of myself everyone knew.

That season stretched me.

The stress of work. The weight of responsibility. The loneliness of starting over. I was mentally exhausted. Emotionally fragile. I didn’t even recognize who I had become at one point.

And strangely enough, I found God again — not in a building — but in nature.

In the stillness of trees.
In the quiet of the air.
In long walks where I could finally breathe.

I dove deep. On my days off, I would spend hours reading my Bible. Studying. Learning context. Asking questions. I joined a prayer team. Assisted our youth pastor. Taught. Served. Led.

I wasn’t playing about God in that season.

Faith wasn’t just belief — it was pursuit.

Love, Compromise, and Quiet Distance

After Portland, I moved back home.

And somewhere in that transition, I found myself in a relationship that slowly pulled me away from the version of myself I had fought to become.

It wasn’t dramatic at first.
It was subtle.

Small compromises.
Muted convictions.
Justifying things I once would have stood firm on.

I didn’t stop believing in God.

But I stopped pursuing Him.

And when you stop pursuing Him, distance doesn’t always feel loud. Sometimes it feels… normal.

The hardest part wasn’t rebellion.

It was shame.

Shame for knowing better.
Shame for drifting.
Shame for feeling like I had undone the growth I had worked so hard for in Portland.

There’s a kind of spiritual silence that happens when you feel like you’ve disappointed God.

You still believe.
You just don’t feel worthy enough to come close.

And so instead of running toward Him, I stayed still.

COVID, Isolation, and Quiet Healing

When I moved back east, COVID hit. Church buildings closed. Community was limited. I worked. I came home. That was it.

But during that time, I met the man who is now my husband.

We started talking about faith. Not casually — intentionally.

We dated. He moved up here. We found a church we connected with. Right before we got married, we made a serious decision to dedicate our lives fully to God.

Not culturally.
Not emotionally.
Intentionally.

And slowly — very slowly — I began finding my way back.

Faith Without Works Is Dead

For a long time, I had belief without action.

I believed God was real.
I believed His plans were good.
I believed He loved me.

But my life didn’t always reflect that belief.

Now, this season is different.

I’m not doing “works” to check boxes.

I’m pursuing God because I want to live a life that pleases Him. Because I understand that faith is partnership. It’s not passive.

Faith requires participation.

It’s inviting the Holy Spirit into everyday decisions.
It’s asking for guidance instead of assuming I know best.
It’s choosing obedience even when it’s uncomfortable.

It’s not perfection.
It’s pursuit.

Grief, Health, and Depression

Life hasn’t been gentle.

I’ve lost loved ones.
I’ve faced significant health issues.
I’ve battled depression after career decisions and life not unfolding the way I imagined.

There were moments I felt unbalanced. Moments where I questioned everything.

But through every season — even when I wasn’t close — God was consistent.

His plans for me were still good.
His grace was still sufficient.
His presence was still available.

The difference wasn’t whether He was there.

The difference was whether I was pursuing Him.

Finding Faith Isn’t a One-Time Event

Faith isn’t something I found once at 17.

It’s something I’ve had to find again… and again… and again.

It’s not linear.
It’s layered.

There are seasons of fire.
Seasons of drift.
Seasons of silence.
Seasons of renewal.

But what I know now is this:

God never left.

Even when I stepped back.
Even when I was ashamed.
Even when I stopped praying like I used to.

He never left.

Faith Was Strengthened in Community

One thing I can’t ignore in my journey is this:

My faith has never grown in isolation.

Yes, I’ve encountered God alone — in my bedroom at 17, in the quiet of nature in Oregon — but my faith was strengthened, sharpened, and protected through community.

In Oregon, I found friends who became family. Women who prayed with me. People who challenged me. A church body that didn’t just welcome me — they poured into me.

In Charlotte, I gained sisters. Not surface-level friendships — but soul ties rooted in growth, accountability, and love.

And now in Virginia, I have a circle that feels intentional. Women who understand pursuit. Women who hold me accountable. Women who celebrate obedience, not just success.

And beyond all of that — my family has always been a covering.

My parents didn’t just introduce me to church — they modeled consistency.
My best friend has been a steady voice in every season.
And now my husband walks alongside me in faith, not ahead of me and not behind me — but with me.

Community didn’t replace my relationship with God.

It edified it.

It reminded me who I was when I forgot.
It corrected me when I drifted.
It prayed for me when I didn’t have the words.

Faith is personal.

But it is not meant to be private.

I found faith alone in my room at 17.
I rediscovered it in nature.
I rebuilt it in community.

And I’m still choosing it, every day.

Season Two: Finding Faith

This next season of Almost Together is about just that — finding faith.

Through loss.
Through love.
Through grief.
Through depression.
Through identity shifts.
Through rebuilding.

Because faith isn’t just for the mountaintop.

It’s for the middle.

And maybe you didn’t lose your faith either.

Maybe you just drifted.

And maybe — just maybe — you’re ready to find your way back.