A disillusioned Catholic and devout Baptist is the context of my spiritual beginnings. My Dad dove head first into a new found faith through the message of the Baptist church of the late eighties and early nineties. One of my earliest memories is watching my Dad being baptized and the hundreds of youth in attendance erupting in celebration.
We attended a Baptist mega church in Houston, TX. From birth I was in church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. I was the product of excellent programing and do not remember a time when I didn’t “believe” Jesus was my savior. I prayed the prayer of salvation, memorized the Roman Road and countless other scriptures during my time attending Girls in Action. I performed in countless children’s choir productions, led our youth group worship team, attended every retreat and camp offered, attended and volunteered every VBS. I was a quintessential “church kid”.
I spent most of my childhood and adolescence believing and idolizing foreign missionaries. They were the chosen ones, the highest of all callings, and therefore where my life was headed. From the age of 13 to 22 my family, along several others, traveled to Latvia to serve alongside a sister church during their summer programing. Before moving to Washington DC in my early twenties, this was the most formative experience in my life and I still feel like an adopted child of that little Baltic country. I made lifelong friendships and was nurtured and led by spiritual mothers and fathers. While I didn’t become a “full time” missionary there it completely altered my worldview and looking back I can see the blessing and challenges this experience would bring to my faith later on.
My identity, belonging, and value was all wrapped up in this church community. My Dad (is)was a fervent studier of scripture and prayer warrior. Saturday mornings while I played Barbies, my dad was calling each and every youth in his Sunday School class. He was a pillar in our Church, and there wasn’t a person who didn’t know his name and consequentially my name. He was a member of our pastor search committee and I’ll never forget the Sunday night I had to dress up and watch him and my mother go up on the larger than life platform and be called by our church to go on that journey. My friends and leaders jokingly called me “Baptist Royalty”. I belonged. My family had great value. I was known.
As I began the transition to young adulthood the cracks in what felt like a very firm faith foundation began to show. I was no longer “Baptist Royalty” and I really struggled with not being known. My identity wasn’t really in Christ, but in my family name and reputation.
Throughout college I struggled with consistency and finding a church community. I know now that I experienced mild depression off and on and relied on distractions and relationships rather than digging deeper into my faith. I checked all the boxes and did all the things an Evangelical Aggie should do but it all felt hollow. By the time I graduated from college I looked back and just felt deep disappointment in myself in regards to my relationship with God.
By that time Joe and I were married and moving to San Antonio for the first time. We truthfully hated it. He sought a transfer to Washington DC as soon as possible and our impending move was an easy excuse to keep us from diving into a small group.
In the fall of 2012 we moved to DC and I was desperate for Gospel community and a deeper relationship with Jesus. God answered my longings and directed us to The District Church. I experienced so much healing, growth, and redemption during our three years there. We led our first small group, served in our city and I led on the worship team for the first time since early college. It was the first time in my faith it felt like mine and God showed me I could come just as I was.
During that time we made the decision to begin the journey of growing our family. In October of 2013 our first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and our TDC community walked with us and prayed with us when we didn’t have the words for ourselves. God used this experience to completely shift Joe’s and my marriage. There was a before version and there was an after version. As we navigated the waters of deciding whether to try again my anxiety was at an all time high; however, the Holy Spirit met me there. As I stood at the sink in our tiny shoebox of a kitchen He spoke to me the clearest I’d ever heard at that point: “Why would you deny yourself an answer or a gift that I want to give you for the sake of holding onto control out of fear?”
We had to trust. I will never forget watching Joe pray with one of our pastors, Matthew Watson, while on a leadership retreat in January of 2014. As tears rolled down my cheeks I didn’t know that we were both pleading with the Lord to answer our desire for a child. The next morning I felt prompted to watch the sunrise alone. Solitude has never been easy for me, but I knew it needed to be just be the Holy Spirit and I.
I tried to include a picture I took, but I can’t seem to get to paste into this space. But what I saw were amazing pink and purple clouds coming over the mountains in rays. There was snow on the ground and a white barn that took on the pinks and purples of the sky.
Lamentations 3 was a balm to my soul at that time (still is) and verses 22-24 AMP state:
“It is because of the Lord’s loving kindnesses that we are not consumed,
Because His [tender] compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great and beyond measure is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion and my inheritance,” says my soul; “Therefore I have hope in Him and wait expectantly for Him.””
I was already pregnant with Naomi Bea.
I really could go on and on about this season of our lives. It was packed full of God’s provision and faithfulness and I feel as if this is when I met . Because we had the miscarriage I ended up being pregnant at the same time as the newest couple in our small group, and she would become my best friend at the time. We rode the waters of early motherhood and all it entails together, and I love[ed] that little baby boy like he was my own. God’s timing is perfect.
We made the heart wrenching decision to move closer to family a year later and said goodbye to our first Gospel community. It took me years to grieve that loss and a lot of God work on my heart to accept his timing and plan for us here in San Antonio. When I think about the past 10 years at The Park/San Antonio it has been a journey of peaks and valleys. I see God using pain and hurt with His people to prompt restoration and healing through His people. Through this Gospel community he has revealed my ongoing, lifelong absolute need for Him and my tendency to seek it out in earthly relationships. Our children have grown as has our life here and I see where all the work He’s done on me has allowed me to love those outside our church community in a way I wouldn’t have been able to. We have the opportunity to love so many people in our neighborhood, our kid’s school, and our hobbies. I long to see restoration in people who have walked away from following Jesus due to various reasons: hurt in the church, misconception of who He is and what the Church should be, etc. God has put several in our sphere and this is where I see us joining God in making all things new.
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