I grew up in a Christian home in Rockingham, NC. Many of my childhood memories revolve around church friends and activities. During Vacation Bible School at the age of nine, I made a profession of faith. But looking back, I think it was something I did more because I knew I was supposed to than because I really understood what I was doing. That trend continued as I got older. I was always one of the “good kids,” trying to do the right things and the things I knew were expected of me. I thought that as long as I was involved in church and “obeying the rules” that everything was alright. That worked fine until I got to college and met people my age who had a much deeper faith than my own – people who were excited about Jesus and sharing Him with others. I began to question whether I was really a Christian because I didn’t have the same excitement I saw in those friends.A few years later, I came to a point where I needed to forgive someone but couldn’t do it. I knew I was supposed to and I really wanted to, but every time I tried, I failed. I finally realized that my problem was that I was trying to work my way to God rather than accepting His grace. Even though I had known the answers all along, I had never really accepted that they applied to me. One day sitting on the couch in my apartment, I prayed and told God that I realized I was a sinner who had been trying to work my way to Him, that I knew that Jesus Christ had died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sins, that He rose from the dead, and that I wanted to accept that and stop trying to get to Him on my own terms. I wanted a relationship with Him and I was ready to give Him control of my life.