I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't wake up early on a Sunday morning to put on my prettiest dress, brush my hair, and go to church. Jesus has always been my place of peace, and church has always been my tangible safe house. I knew I could continuously rely on my parents and my pastors to be strong role models throughout the years, and I was open and ready to listen and receive the ministry that they poured into my life. It was clear to me that my pastor was anointed and had valuable lessons to teach me from the word of God. That is, he used to.

Early teenage years are traumatic for everyone. There is enough pressure, what with finally having freedom to explore who we want to be, and letting our personality begin to present itself in how we dress and behave. I, however, remember this time in my life as being associated with attempting to discover myself while also dealing with spiritual confusion, battles, and almost walking away from my faith in God.

The pastor who I once had trusted so much began to preach to a different tune than the one that I thought Jesus played. The approach he took on the word became driven by hate and judgement as an attempt to bring people to God, rather than using the love and forgiveness that is provided through Jesus as an awakening to why we should seek Him. What once seemed to be a snowball quickly became an out of control avalanche.

I found that I had to be mindful of what I said, my behavior, and what I wore even more than Christians do in our day-to-day lives. There were certain expectations that were in place, yet we never seemed to know about them until after we had disappointed our leaders. I stopped paying attention during Sunday morning services, because they always included the congregation being yelled at, which was my least favorite way to be spoken to. People who once had been regulars at church disappeared, and I became heavily reliant on the message delivered to be me by my youth pastors until they left, too.

When my family decided to seek out a different church, my friends were told not to speak to me and that I was back sliding. But the truth was that I was disconnected. I had been told that the God of love was actually one of stipulations and would only love me if I looked and believed the exact way they did, but even then I wasn't guaranteed to be good enough. I felt betrayed by the God that I once knew and loved. I didn't see a reason to go back to my faith. Thankfully, God had a different plan.

My next youth pastor worked long and hard to get me to even step foot into the youth room. I was too afraid to open myself up to the possibility of spiritual abandonment again. Once I cracked the door to let God back in, He pushed it open wide to show me that He was, in fact the God of love, mercy, peace, joy, and forgiveness that I had always known. My road to spiritual healing took time, but I am thankful to be where I am today.

If, somehow, this article reaches the right people, I would just like to say: I forgive you. You thought you were doing the best thing for me, everyone makes mistakes. I pray you are doing well, and I pray that the Lord sends the right people across your path to lead you back to the God you once portrayed, for He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.