For anyone who has been to the South, one thing people tend to notice is the abundance of churches. In South Carolina, almost every street has one, sometimes looking as big as castles. My favorite thing about them when I was little was the quirky anecdotes on the church signs. But as I matured, these churches seemed less and less whimsical to me with every bad encounter I had with religion.

I grew up with two amazing, spiritual parents; My dad grew up with the Catholic faith and my mom pursued her own non-denominational journey with Christianity. However, my family decided not to go to church (save for the times we visited my grandmother for Easter or Christmas service).

At a young age, people began to ask me what church I went to and then would ask why I didn't go to church. I didn't have an answer. I was still in grade school. But my mom came to the rescue by telling me this: "Your relationship with God is between you and Him. It's a personal experience. Some people grow closer to Him later than others, and it's not their fault. I want you to want to find your spirituality, not feel like you have to."

Despite not going as a family, I would try going to different youth groups and services with my friends and boyfriends. I saw them as more of a social thing but appreciated the overall messages that they taught. However, some of these experiences pushed me further away from church rather than closer.

When I was in the second grade, I decided to go to a church camp with my little boyfriend. In one exercise, the church group leader tried to teach us a story where an angel protected three righteous men after telling Nebechenezar that they would not worship his gold statue. They were sent to be burned alive but were protected by an angel.

After telling the story, the church leader wanted to put it in practice and told us, "Okay, I have this gold statue and I want all of you to worship it instead of God. If you don't, I'll throw you in a pit of fire. In 20 seconds, at the sound of the gong, I want you to either kneel if you want to worship this statue or remain standing if you want to worship God."

I was terrified. I truly believed this woman would throw me in a pit of fire if I didn't kneel before her golden-spray-painted piece of wood. So, naturally, at the sound of the gong, I knelt without hesitation--I immediately realized I had made the wrong decision. I looked up at all the shocked little faces and stood up quickly, trying to hide my tomato-colored face.

Flash-forward to junior year of high school. I decided to go to this event called "Judgement House" after this guy that I had a crush on invited me to go with his family. This event was meant to mimic a haunted house, except each room highlighted a different sin. Overall, it was a scare tactic used to convince people to be good or else you will be cast down into the depths of Hell.

I will never forget, in the end, the pastor sat us in a room and asked us to reflect on our lives and to try to determine if we were on the path to Heaven or Hell. "I mean, I know I'm going to Heaven. I'm a pastor! I've done my good deeds." I was shocked that he was so certain. In the back of my mind I was thinking, Do you really know, though? How could you be so sure?

As a rising junior in college, I would consider myself agnostic. But I wonder if I would be that way if I lived somewhere else, somewhere that didn't put so much pressure on being a Christian and going to church. One of my family members even told me not to tell people that I am agnostic and to phrase it, "I'm still finding my faith."

Now, I am comfortable in saying that I don't know everything, and one thing that growing up in the Bible Belt has taught me is to be wary of people who claim to have all the answers.