“Our Father, Who art in heaven.” I have recited that line too many times to count. Many of us know this as the “Lord’s Prayer,” a prayer that shows our love and God’s compassion. God is forgiving, and he forgives me on a daily basis. He loves me even when I do not know if I feel his love. Sometimes I cannot feel his love because I struggle with my faith. I struggle with my faith on a daily basis.

I grew up knowing God’s love. I grew up as a Catholic. My parents taught us to love our neighbor, to help those who needed it, to pray for strength, for guidance and for the sake of others. I loved God with my whole heart for the longest time. Then, God presented my family with hardships.

My family struggled with poverty. I prayed for hope and for it to get better. It started to. There was food on the table and we were getting by. My father was in a chemical fire at work, leaving him physically and mentally scarred - I prayed for healing. My father began to heal. We lost our home - and I prayed for shelter. God saw us through that. God saw us through it all.

Then my dad died. And suddenly, I did not know what to pray for. Who do you pray to when the one entity took away your superhero? I felt darkness; I felt alone. I was angry. I thought God has put us through enough for one family, now this. What part of his plan involved a mother on her own to raise her children? Not any plan I could roll with. I stopped praying. I stopped looking for the light. I stopped believing.

There was no God that could shine a light into my heart that could take away the ones I love so quickly. There was no God who could abandon me when I needed him most. God had lost my trust, and he lost it for quite a while. I did not enter a church for years.

Then one day, my roommate at the time invited me to church. I was not sure about it, so I passed on it for a few weeks. Finally, after asking for probably too many times anyone should have to, I agreed.

It was a Christian church, quite different than what I was used to. The first time I stepped into SouthGate Church (which is now Hope City), I felt welcomed. The people were friendly and treated me like family. I was nervous, but I kept walking to our seats. The service started with music. Everybody was involved. I thought, “OK, I like music, I could do music.” Then the pastor spoke.

Pastor Edgar spoke and it felt like he was speaking to me. He was not preaching anything he was not practicing. He talked about things that hit close to home. The struggle with faith, the struggle with loss and the struggle to find hope when all was gone. The feeling that God has left, but in reality he has not. He patiently waits. It was the first time in a long time I felt myself wanting to pray. I went every week for months there. It felt like a second home. I felt the light and love that had long left me. I felt I could forgive God. I could even love God.

To say that I have had a long-term committed relationship with my faith would be a lie. I still struggle. Even though I know the love God has for me, it is hard to feel. It is still hard to pray some days. Sometimes I still wonder if there is a God, but I want to believe. I want to feel the warmth and comfort that comes from faith. Every day I struggle and every day I pray. I pray for strength and guidance that I can find my faith - that I can trust in what the Lord has planned for me. I hope that I can have that. Until then, I keep praying.