My Faith Story, Part I

I was raised Catholic. It seems like a lot of people's stories start out that way, doesn't it? I never liked going to church - it bored me. After I graduated from high school I got married at 19. We had a Catholic wedding, and every Sunday we went to church with his parents. It still bored me. We separated after 2 1/2 years of marriage and our divorce was final just a few days after our 3rd anniversary.

Shortly before my 24th birthday I was married for the 2nd time. We didn't go to church. Somewhere along the line I'd become uncertain that I even believed in God. My husband wasn't much of a believer either. Two years later, we separated and divorced. I was 26. It's not a period of my life I'm particularly proud of.

Sometime during my first marriage I'd begun to suffer from depression. From that time through the middle of 2002, I was taking prescription anti-depressants, and occasionally saw a therapist. I had no interest in going to church, but found the subjects of various religions interesting. I found myself especially interested in Paganism, and Wicca, but never quite interested or motivated enough to try to put anything into practice. I was even engaged again during that time, but realized it wouldn't work and broke off the engagement before we got married.

In late Winter/early Spring 2005, the depression came creeping back. In mid-June of that year I hit an all-time low. I would come home from work, go to bed, and sob. I wanted to die. I would be driving to or from my job and just envision myself slamming my foot on the gas pedal and speeding into a bridge or a pole. I was sure that death had to be easier than living.

Fortunately, I loved my family far too much to act on those thoughts. They never knew (until now, if anyone reads this) that things had gotten quite that bad. I realized I needed to go back on the anti-depressants.

During that time, my mother and my grandmother kept encouraging me to pray. What they didn't know is that I'd already started. I felt like I didn't know how, like I couldn't remember. Growing up in the Catholic church, I wasn't accustomed to just talking to God. We always had certain prayers we prayed, but I'd never just tried having a conversation with God. I decided to start looking for a church I could go to.

I knew I didn't want to go back to the Catholic church - it felt like there were too many rules, too many rituals. A few years earlier I'd visited a church or two, but just didn't feel comfortable. I tried another, but it just didn't seem much different from what I'd experienced in the past. A friend of mine suggested I try Lancaster County Bible Church (now LCBC - Lives Changed By Christ). She'd never been there herself, but she drove past it every day going to and from work and knew there was always something going on there. A short time later, another friend suggested I check it out, though she had never been there either. I decided to give it a try.

On October 30, 2005, I decided to check out a Sunday morning service. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew the place was huge, and I thought it seemed pretty intimidating. I thoroughly expected to hate it. I was caught completely by surprise.

It had taken me a while to figure out what to wear that morning, but one of the first things I noticed was that most people were wearing jeans. The auditorium was huge, and I found a seat in the upper level, where I could see everything and hopefully not be noticed.

There was a stage, not an alter, and it was set for a band rather than the organ or piano I had grown up hearing in church. Then the worship band started to play, and I was shocked to feel tears rolling down my cheeks. And it wasn't a hymn they were playing - it was a song you might hear on the radio. It might have been something by Switchfoot, though I don't remember anymore. David Ashcraft, the senior pastor, wasn't speaking that day, but Keith Walker was doing the sermon. He was wearing jeans and a shirt that wasn't tucked in and he was funny. I was laughing in church. After the service I walked around the atrium for a few minutes, checking things out. Instead of being intimidated by the size, I blended into the crowd. Nobody noticed that I had never been there before.

When I left LCBC that day, I felt better than I had in six months. I wasn't just feeling a little less depressed - I was actually happy. And I couldn't wait to go back.

To be continued...