I left the church at 16 after some things happened that I'm still not fully ready to write about publicly. I spent three years convinced that God was either absent or indifferent. I came to college planning to stay far away from anything Christian. Then my roommate — who never once pressured me, just lived her faith quietly and warmly — invited me to a Lead with Light event. I said no four times. The fifth time I said yes because I had nothing else to do on a Tuesday and I was lonely. What I found was not what I'd left. Nobody had an agenda for me. Nobody had answers they were trying to sell. There was just a group of imperfect people who were honest about their doubts and genuine in their love. Healing isn't linear. I still have hard days. I still flinch sometimes in worship spaces. But I'm here. And being here, slowly, is teaching me the difference between the institution that hurt me and the God who never left.
