When I first embarked on this journey with God, I imagined a straightforward path, a direct route from who I was to who I aspired to be. Instead, I discovered a road that resembled the winding trails of my childhood, filled with unexpected twists and turns.
I can still recall the moment I decided to change my music. I used to love the beats and the lyrics that resonated with my pain and defiance. But now, those songs felt like echoes of a life I was trying to move away from. Yet, there were nights when I found myself drawn back to those familiar tunes, wrapped in nostalgia and comfort, wrestling with the temptation to revert to what felt safe. It was a real struggle—not because I didn’t recognize the harm, but because those songs were woven into my story.
Then came the self-destructive thoughts, which were the hardest to face. On days when I felt the furthest from God, they crept in like shadows, casting doubt on my faith, my worth, and my ability to change. "You'll never be good enough," they whispered. But in those moments, I learned to reach for my Bible, seeking verses that spoke of God's unwavering love and His patience with us. It was a battle—not just against those thoughts, but against the part of me that still clung to them.
Lacking compassion was another reflection I didn’t want to confront. I found myself in situations where I should have been a voice of kindness, only to realize my words were sharp and my patience was thin. It was disheartening to see that I wasn’t as far along as I had believed. But each time, I would pray, asking for a heart like Christ's. It wasn’t an instant transformation, but a daily commitment to try again, to choose understanding over judgment.
And then there was anger—my old companion. It would flare up quickly, serving as my defense mechanism, a way to assert control when everything felt chaotic. But faith was teaching me the art of surrender, not control. I’d find myself in situations where anger bubbled up, and instead of letting it explode, I’d pause, pray, and take a deep breath. It wasn’t always easy, and I stumbled at times, but each experience became a lesson in patience and letting go.
I've come to realize that starting out in faith is all about embracing this journey of growth—taking two steps forward and then one step back. It’s those personal moments when I opt for worship music over my usual playlist, or when I catch myself swapping a harsh word for a kinder one. It’s in those quiet victories over my own thoughts, in the slow and sometimes tough process of shedding old habits.
This journey has taught me to acknowledge my humanity, my need for grace, and the incredible beauty of God’s patience. Each struggle and setback isn’t just about my shortcomings; it’s really about the chances for God to work within me, to refine who I am. It’s a deeply personal experience because it’s not just about changing my actions, but transforming the very essence of who I am. I understand now that this transformation is a delicate dance of progress and patience, of stumbling and getting back up, always with God’s hand guiding me back to the right path.